Disclaimer: Do. Not. Own.

Warnings: Relationships between men. Not quite yaoi, but working my way up.

Additionally: You guys, I'm so stuck. Give me some prompts, I need to break out of this rut.

When Gaou Rikiya saw Kobayakawa Sena last, four years ago at Saikyoudai versus Enma, he was still a short, scrawny brat with more guts than muscle.

Twenty-two-year-old Sena wasn't much different from eighteen-year-old Sena.

"Gaou-san," said Sena, eyes widening with recognition. "You cut your hair."

Then Sena blushed.

Rikiya almost smiled. Instead, he only said, "You grew yours."

He had. Sena's hair was longer than it really should be, and didn't do anything to help the first impression. That was a lot like before, too. The only thing that had really changed was that Sena had left the cute behind somewhere and matured into lovely sometime over the years—a longer, more delicate jawline, the babyish cheeks consumed by high cheekbones. In a long-sleeved cut jacket and jeans, he was vaguely androgynous, like if he put on tie he'd be a man and if he dabbed on some lipstick he'd be a woman.

He looked exhausted.

"Takekura know you're here?" asked Rikiya. And not in the States?

"Oh." A wary look, there. "No, I…I was just passing by."

Rikiya looked at the construction yard and office building behind Sena. Break was almost over and he could hear the workers gathering and the equipment starting up again.

"Honestly, Gaou-san," Sena's voice was…tense, as if he were nervous. "It was just an accident. I didn't realize the office had moved."

That was probably true. They'd leased the new place a year ago, and Rikiya knew Sena hadn't been in Japan for nearly three.

"I'm sorry, Gaou-san," said Sena. Now he seemed rushed, his eyes everywhere but on Rikiya, as if he wanted to run away but was too polite. "I'm holding you up, aren't I? Please excuse me. It was—"

Nice to see you, probably, except just then, Rikiya heard Takekura's voice, calling for someone to "Watch your head!", and Sena's face went white.

Without another word, Sena walked quickly past Rikiya. As he did, he lowered his head, and the collar of his coat pulled away from his neck.

Rikiya reached out and put his hand on Sena's shoulder.

It was harder to stop Sena than it had been six years ago in high school. A lot harder. Rikiya was impressed at what three years of Division 1 football did even for someone as spare as this.

Sena turned to look at Rikiya, eyes wide with alarm. But Rikiya wasn't looking at Sena's face.

"That a love letter?" said Rikiya.

The bruise was sickening to look at. Green and yellow, because it had been a while, but still huge and stippled with broken blood vessels. Rikiya could only imagine what it had looked like new, all purple and black and swollen. He didn't know how Sena could move his neck, even now, and didn't want to know how long he had to be bedridden before walking became bearable.

"It was an accident," said Sena, and his voice was numb now, dull. His eyes were fixed on the ground. "At practice."

Rikiya grunted derisively. "Why don't you tell me you ran into a door?"

He let go of Sena's shoulder.

Rikiya waited to see what Sena would do. Leave, probably. Get on a plane and be halfway around the world before Takekura and Hiruma kicked in his door. Crying wasn't likely—he looked too tired, and besides, he wasn't a child anymore.

He looked as if he hadn't been one in a long, long time.

"Gaou-san," said Sena. His voice was low, careful. "Please don't tell Musashi. He'll worry."

You mean he'll tell Hiruma, thought Rikiya. And in fact, that was exactly what he figured should happen. Somebody needed tell Hiruma.

"They don't know you're here," said Rikiya.

Sena didn't answer, but he didn't have to.

At this point, Rikiya was nearly fifteen minutes late, but Takekura wouldn't care. Especially not after Rikiya told him why.

He wasn't exactly certain why he asked his next question. "Where are you staying?"

Sena started back, his eyes moving down. His head turned to the side and he wouldn't look at Rikiya.

"If you don't tell me, I'll ask Hiruma."

Then Sena looked frustrated. But even that was apparently too tiring, the strain in his eyes overwhelming any anger, and he just shrugged. "I have an apartment."

An apartment. Didn't he already have an apartment, in Green Bay?

Sena seemed to hear the question though Rikiya didn't ask aloud. "My contract doesn't start until the next season. I'm taking the rest of the year off."

"Give me the address."

Rikiya wasn't sure what he was doing.

Sena wrote a street and an apartment number on the back of a receipt Rikiya had in his coat. When he was done, Rikiya had to pull it free from Sena's fingers. "Please. Gaou-san. Don't tell Hiruma."

He spoke so softly, as if even saying Hiruma's name too loudly might bring him there. "You fight with him or something?"

Sena didn't answer. Rikiya hadn't thought he would.

Watching Sena walk away was an exercise in patience. Everything about Sena was exhausted—the way he walked, carefully and slowly, as if he'd fall if he wasn't careful, and the way he held his shoulders, stiffly, as if he were struggling to keep upright or like the bruise hurt more than he let on. The pallor of his face stood out against his black coat and hair, and he looked abnormally thin through his clothes, almost as if his body was being eaten away from the inside. It occurred to Rikiya that what Sena really needed was a doctor, but by then Sena was already turning the corner down the street.

Ought to stop him, thought Rikiya, but he had to go to work.

When he stepped into the office to clock in, Takekura looked up from some paperwork and gave him a raised eyebrow. Rikiya shrugged. That was that.

He opened his mouth to tell Takekura that he'd just seen that guy you've been in love with since high school and that it looks like his boyfriend's been beating the shit out of him, but all that came out was, "Hey, Boss, I need tomorrow off."

And for some inexplicable reason, the paper with Sena's address on it stayed in Rikiya's wallet and Rikiya found himself saying nothing about meeting Kobayakawa Sena on the street.