Visual Kei

I doubled over, clutching my head as another crest of agony rode over me. One might think that, with the frequency of the attacks, I would get accustomed to them, but it seemed new every time. I fought the stomach acid that wanted to come up in my throat. Kiiro leaned over me, his voice hard to hear through the pain. “Is it another episode?”

“Yes.” I managed to gasp it out, and it didn’t sound too pretty. He ran a hand along the back of my neck and it just inflamed the pain prickling along my skin. I pushed him away hard enough for him to know it wasn’t just a moody girl thing. “No.”

When it grew unbearable, I blacked out only to wake up moments later, my limbs thrashing and strong hands bracing my head to keep me from splattering the contents of my skull all over the cold grass. Kiiro’s face was blank, but his eyes said more than enough. This episode was even longer than the last and when I finally stopped seizing, I jumped up and ran a few feet to puke in the tall grass. For several minutes afterward, I continued dry heaving, so I stayed by that shoulder-high plains grass. No one moved to hold my hair, but I wasn’t exactly in the mood for sympathy. I had managed to keep the puke out of my hair by some miracle, and that was good enough for me.

When I returned, Shinji asked if I was all right. I nodded pitifully and watched the others go about their business, gathering the things needed for camp. We'd been off the ship for a while yet, and had to travel on foot to a bigger city. I stretched my muscles, trying to keep them from cramping as they always did after the attacks. And, as always, it didn’t help any. When I could focus on the world around me, I realized that Kiiro and I were alone in camp. Kiiro was pitching the tents and I watched, neither savvy enough nor in any shape to help. I was so miserable that I didn’t even want to talk. He seemed to pick up on that and didn’t offer any conversation starters. Yeah, lucky me.

Although my whole body protested, I shuffled off weakly to find some fallen sticks and dry grass for kindling. I managed to find some brush and dead pine needles, which I brought back in a large pile. The stupid things were poking into my skin and it wasn’t all that pleasant. I arranged them into a pile near where the fire would be, but I didn’t want to even try to start a fire by myself.

I looked around for Kiiro. He had disappeared inside the black tent before calling me in. I stayed where I was for a while, not well enough or optimistic enough to entertain the fantasy that he was waiting naked in ambush for me. I trudged to the tent’s opening and peeked in. Before I could see anything, though, he pulled me in by my wrist. Plopping down onto the tent’s bottom, I kicked off my shoes and set them by the entrance. Kiiro had taken several blankets and a few pillows from the ship and saved them for me, making a pile that looked like a cocoon when I burrowed inside. Although he didn’t smile, his eyes flashed with satisfaction at my response and he sprawled out beside the blankets, propped up on an elbow.

“Thank you,” I said, shivering despite the warming blankets. It was thoughtful, but I imagined the captain must have been seething.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked. “There is more in Tsurara’s bag.”

“No, it’s alright. I just need some time to warm up…” I paused, flushing suddenly. “Perhaps—perhaps you’d like to help me with that?”

He chuckled, but slid into the blankets beside me. I wrapped my arms around him and snuggled up to his chest. Although he didn’t reciprocate, he didn’t complain either, so I assumed he was fine with it. He was surprisingly warm despite his usual coldness. Or perhaps I was colder than usual. Either way, he felt warm, and it was pleasant.

“Better?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

I smiled, my eyelids already drooping. “Yes…” Within moments, I was sleeping.