Chapter Text
Yuuri leaned over the front counter of his bakery and sighed. It was almost 7pm, but it had been nearly thirty minutes since the last customer had walked out. His sense of pride in his little shop refused to allow him to close his doors one minute before the end of the workday, so he stood there staring through the glass door out onto empty, cold streets. It was already dark out, shadows eating up the limited view Yuuri had of the outside world through the front windows.
He checked his watch. 6:45pm .
“Ugh,” he groaned.
It had been a particularly busy day up until about four o’clock and since then things had been dragging on and on. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his job. Quite the opposite. He’d opened this place a year ago with great passion and excitement to finally share his baking with the world. But sometimes, a hard day was a hard day and all you wanted to do was sleep. Particularly when you woke up at 4am every morning.
In a fit of unprofessionalism, Yuuri put his forehead down on the counter, careful not to crush his glasses, and closed his eyes. Fifteen minutes. Just fifteen minutes and he’d be free to close up, turn off the lights, and head upstairs for a shower and a good book. He took in a lungful of air and exhaled slowly.
The bells above the door peeled cheerily and he shot up. “Welcome! How can I--” his eyes widened and his voice died on the words, “ help you… ?”
A man leaned in the doorway. Shocking blue eyes peered out at him from beneath a fall of silver hair. Pale skin enveloped fine bones and a tall frame covered mostly by a long dark coat and a charcoal scarf.
But it was the blood that stole Yuuri’s attention away from the handsome features.
Scarlet color bloomed into the knitted fibers of a white sweater where it had been slashed to ribbons, soaking it through until droplets fell from the hem onto the wooden floor of the bakery. Heavy panting distracted Yuuri from the blood and his eyes snapped up to the man’s pink lips. A white hand reached out to rest on the shelf that stood adjacent to the door, but missed by a hair’s breadth. The man lost his balance and collapsed onto the now-crimson-stained welcome mat.
“Whoa!” Yuuri was around the counter like a shot, bending down on one knee over the prone body. “Hey! Are you alright, sir?”
Stupid question. No one covered in that much blood was alright. Yuuri checked to make sure the man was still breathing at least. He was. A moan escaped him and he tried to move.
“Keep still. I’m calling for an ambulance,” Yuuri told him, reaching into his pocket for his cell.
Surprisingly firm fingers gripped his wrist. “No...please…”
It was difficult for Yuuri to catch the English words through the thick shroud of an accent he couldn’t immediately place. “You need a hospital!”
Silvery strands shook with the movement of the man’s head. “No hospitals…”
Yuuri balked. What the hell had happened to this guy? The long fingers uncurled from his wrist and fell to the floor with a thud. Crystalline blue eyes fluttered closed and the man lay utterly still. Yuuri nudged him carefully. No response. He must have blacked out. Yuuri pondered his cell phone resting in his palm and weighed his choices. This man could be more seriously hurt than he already seemed. It was dangerous to let him go without medical attention and yet…
Bright lights filled up the window and Yuuri panicked, craning his neck back to look at the glass door. The lights brightened and then slowly disappeared. Just a car driving by. He relaxed fractionally, but he knew that the risk of someone walking past and seeing the grisly scene on the floor of his shop was too great. He had to move this man. But could he move him without it doing more damage? Yuuri’s heart rate sped up and his breath grew shallow. This was a nightmare.
Knowing he couldn’t stay on the floor forever, he stood up, careful not to disturb the man, and locked the front door. He put up the closed sign and went behind the counter to turn off the lights. That would hopefully keep prying eyes from looking in and seeing the bleeding body. Yuuri stared at the small pool of blood that was currently drenching his welcome mat.
“Okay,” he breathed.
He knelt down again and shifted the man onto his back. Considering his front was the source of the blood, it probably wasn’t doing him any favors lying on it. The movement stirred him to wakefulness and he blinked blearily up at Yuuri.
“No hospitals,” he repeated.
“Fine. No hospitals, but I need to see what damage has been done,” Yuuri told him, trying to keep his voice even.
The man sat up, swaying as he did so, putting a hand to his forehead. Yuuri braced his hands against his shoulders to keep him from toppling over.
“Can you stand?” Yuuri asked.
The stranger nodded.
It took the two of them, but after several false starts, they got the man onto his wobbly feet. Yuuri had no idea how much blood the guy had lost, but given that not only the sweater, but now his pants were soaked, it had to be a lot.
“Come on. I’ll take you somewhere you can lie down,” Yuuri said softly, injecting what he hoped was a soothing tone into his voice.
The man sagged into Yuuri’s side as they walked around the counter and through the door that led into the kitchen and the stairwell that connected to Yuuri’s upstairs apartment. The stairs. How on earth were they going to make it up the stairs? Yuuri bit his lip.
“Can you climb some steps?” Yuuri asked him.
“I can do it,” the man slurred.
“Here,” Yuuri pulled the man’s left arm over his own shoulder. “One at a time, okay?”
A scant nod was all he got in reply.
Every step was an immense effort and Yuuri was worried constantly that they’d fall backwards and break their necks, but somehow they made it to the top without incident. By then, the man’s breathing was ragged and sweat covered his brow.
“Almost there,” Yuuri promised.
He unlocked his apartment door and heaved his unexpected guest inside. Yuuri frowned. He didn't want to destroy his couch with the blood. Bedsheets could be washed or dyed. Decision made, he half-dragged the man into his bedroom and onto his bed. A wince escaped the stranger’s lips when he sunk into the pillow and sheets. He still wore his coat and scarf. Yuuri frowned as he watched those blue eyes peer at him warily.
“I’ll get the first-aid kit.”
He went to his attached bathroom and retrieved the white box from beneath the vanity and returned to the bedroom. Flicking the lights on, Yuuri noted with some remorse the man’s hiss and the way he covered his eyes with a forearm.
“Sorry.” Yuuri crossed to the bed and sat on the edge beside the man’s thighs. “We’re going to have to take off that coat and scarf.”
The man blinked and pursed his lips.
“I know it’s probably going to hurt, but I’ll help, okay?” Yuuri set the box to the side and waited for the stranger to sit up on his own.
Once the coat was off, the damage was more obvious. Blood covered the right shoulder of the sweater as well as the entire front. They might as well cut it off. It was mostly in tatters anyway and bloodied wounds peeked through. At least the man wouldn’t have to raise his arms above his head. Yuuri turned and opened the kit, pulling out the scissors.
“What are...those for?” the man panted.
“That sweater is toast. Can I cut it off you? That way you won’t have to move your arms so much.”
Those blue eyes widened at that, distinct horror in the ocean depths. A groan that was altogether different from the earlier ones left him and he nodded with a shaky wave of one hand. “Just get it over with.”
Yuuri looked closer at the fabric as he began cutting up the middle and could tell it was of fine woolen make. No doubt it was an expensive item. As he continued, his eyes glanced to the coat and scarf. They were fancy, too. What was a man like this doing covered in blood? What was he doing in Hasetsu?
The pieces of the sweater fell open, exposing the gruesome sight beneath. It was impossible to see the porcelain skin amidst the blood slicking across the man’s chest. Animalistic claw marks gouged through skin and muscle, nearly to the bone in some places. Yuuri covered his mouth with a hand, nausea quivering in his stomach.
“God,” Yuuri whispered. “What did this to you?”
“That bad, huh?” the man huffed out a laugh that clearly pained him. Blood oozed from the wounds, dribbling over the already stained flesh.
“Seriously. I don’t understand…”
The man’s head fell back onto the pillow and he closed his eyes. “I’ll be alright. Just clean it and bandage it and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“This is going to need stitches. Major stitches,” Yuuri insisted, reaching again for his cell phone.
This time, the hand that clamped down on his wrist was even stronger, the grip so hard that Yuuri felt his bones might crack.
“ No. ” The man’s voice echoed in the chambers of Yuuri’s mind, a pulse accompanying the tiny word until it reverberated throughout his entire body.
Inexplicably, Yuuri pulled his hand back out of his pocket and didn’t reach for the phone again.
“Just...clean it.”
A deep wrinkle formed between Yuuri’s brows, but he nodded. Before he did anything, he went to the bathroom and thoroughly washed his hands. He didn’t know if it would help things, but it couldn’t hurt. Next, he used the wound wash in his kit to rinse the slashes in the man’s chest and shoulder. The liquid mixed with the blood and streamed in pink rivulets down the man’s revealed abdominal muscles until it soaked into the bedding. So much for these sheets. It would be a miracle if Yuuri’s mattress escaped unscathed.
Once he’d used up all the wound wash and patted the gouges dry with a paper towel, he had the man sit up. They removed the shreds of the sweater and Yuuri checked his back. It was perfectly fine, thankfully. And muscular. And beautiful.
“I can think of better circumstances for getting undressed…” the man joked.
Yuuri flushed at that, ripping his eyes away from the alabaster skin, and didn’t comment.
The man sat admirably still while Yuuri wrapped his torso and shoulder in white gauze. Some blood came through the material, but not much and it seemed that the worst of it was over. Once he was done and the first aid kit was packed back up, the silence between them felt tense and strange.
“Thank you,” the man eventually said, voice weary.
Yuuri looked at his hands in his lap. “You’re welcome.”
A cool touch on his chin startled him and he looked up into the stranger’s face. Yuuri realized he hadn’t really looked at him properly until now. Handsome didn’t even begin to cover it.
“I mean it,” the man reiterated. “I…”
Yuuri couldn’t stop the color that seeped into his cheeks.
The man noticed it, his eyes dropping to the blush spreading beneath Yuuri’s glasses. A pink tongue darted out, wetting bow-shaped lips.
Yuuri’s pulse sped up at the sight.
“I should probably go,” the man finally said.
Yuuri stood up and rubbed the back of his neck. “You should probably stay still for a little while. Until the bleeding fully stops. You can sleep there, just let me change the sheets before you go to bed.”
He had no idea why he was offering this man his bed for the night, but he couldn’t just send an injured person back out onto the streets.
“You’d let me stay here?” Surprise lightened the man’s eyes.
“Yes?” Yuuri didn’t mean for it to sound like a question.
A softness overpowered the pain clear in the man’s expression. “You’re very kind.”
Yuuri pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose from where they’d slipped down and turned to the closet. He retrieved another set of sheets and helped the man stand and lean against the wall so Yuuri could switch out the ones on the bed. The bloodied layers would go in the trash later. He didn’t even want to attempt to explain something like that to his mother when he went over to his parents’ inn to do his laundry tomorrow.
Once the bed was remade, Yuuri glanced to the man’s red-soaked pants. Another flush was coming, but he quelled it and cleared his throat. “You should probably take those off, too.”
A smirk touched the corner of the man’s mouth before it turned into a charming smile. Yuuri wondered how he could find the energy to flirt when he’d been half-dead not fifteen minutes ago.
“Got anything else I can wear?” He arched a brow.
Yuuri blanched. The stranger was several inches taller than him and quite a lot bigger in terms of musculature. Anything Yuuri had would undoubtedly be too small. Still, perhaps a pair of his dance sweats and a loose night shirt would fit well enough.
“Let me check,” Yuuri said, returning to the closet.
He managed to find something that would probably work and held them out. Shaky hands brushed against Yuuri’s own for a brief touch and then the clothes were in the man’s hands.
Yuuri flushed violently when he murmured, “Do you...er...need any help getting dressed?”
The man thought for a moment, then sighed. “Probably.”
It was the most nerve wracking five minutes of Yuuri’s life. It was almost impossible not to want to look at such a perfect physique. When the man unzipped his pants, Yuuri looked away, willing the abominable blush on his cheeks to disappear. He heard the dip of the mattress springs as the man sat.
“Can you perhaps…”
“Oh, sure,” Yuuri said, moving to pull the pants legs off and pointedly not looking at the skin-tight black boxer briefs the man wore.
With Yuuri’s help, the man pulled on the sweats and then the night shirt. Both were form fitting, but not entirely salacious and Yuuri was able to relax at the sight.
With a wince, the man eased onto his back and melted into the mattress.
“I’ll go get you some painkillers,” Yuuri said.
“No. I’ll be fine.”
Yuuri rolled his eyes. “You’re not stubborn at all, are you?”
“I just...need to sleep,” the man said, yawning for effect.
He couldn’t imagine the sort of pain the man must be in, but if he was determined to play the tough guy, Yuuri wouldn’t stop him. “I’ll be in the other room on the couch if you wake up and decide you do want painkillers, alright?”
The man nodded, but his eyes were closed, his breath evening out.
Yuuri turned off the lights and pulled the door almost shut.
What in the world had just happened to him?
He couldn’t get the image of those claw-like marks out of his mind. It looked like the stranger had gotten into the wrong end of a fight with a panther or some other jungle beast. Beasts that didn’t just roam around Hasetsu on a Tuesday night. He shook his head and went into the kitchenette to make himself some chamomile tea. His nerves felt frayed like stripped wires and he could feel the edge in his mind sharpening to a razor point. A strange, beautiful, terribly injured man was sleeping in his bedroom and Yuuri was more than a little alarmed by that fact.
He pulled the tea kettle off the burner before it could whistle and poured the steaming water over the chamomile sachet in the depths of the pottery mug his best friend Phichit had given him for his last birthday. It grounded him in a strange way. This was his life. He was in a safe place. The fact that a bloodied, weak-legged man had stumbled into his world tonight was of no consequence really. He’d be gone tomorrow once he had gotten a good night’s sleep and Yuuri’s life would go back to normal.
Just as it should be.
But as he lay awake on the couch that night, trying desperately to go to sleep, he couldn’t get the piercing blue of the man’s eyes out of his head.
The gradually increasing white light of his wake-up alarm pulled Yuuri from a pitiful sleep. It had been well after midnight when he finally nodded off and it was 4am now. He stood up, yawned, and felt the bones in his back shift and crack after sleeping uncomfortably on the couch. At first, he was confused as to why he was in the front room of his apartment, but after only a second or two, the replay of the previous night’s events rolled through his mind. Before doing anything else, he tiptoed across the wooden floor and to the door that separated the front room from his bedroom. Cracking the door further open, he peered inside.
A nearly luminescent face peeked up from beneath the shroud of Yuuri’s covers. Gossamer hair almost glowed with the light coming into the window from a streetlamp outside. Yuuri squinted and saw the soft rise and fall of the gray covers. He was still asleep then. Yuuri felt an immense relief fold into his heart and he turned away, pulling the door closed all the way. He’d have to forgo the usual morning shower or risk waking his guest. Perhaps he could grab one on his lunch break while Phichit manned the front counter. For now, he ate a simple breakfast, went into his bedroom long enough to retrieve a fresh set of clothes for the day, and quickly brushed his teeth. Thankfully, all of his activities failed to rouse the sleeper.
Yuuri closed the door to his apartment and went downstairs to the bakery. He loved this time of day. It was so still and quiet--far too early for anyone else on the street to be up. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he exhaled and let the previous night wash from his mind. The man was alive. He would deal with the rest later. Right now, he had to get the day going.
First thing. He had to clean up the bloodied mess the man had made the night before. The welcome mat was ruined, so he braved the wintry cold to stuff it in the outside dumpster. Thankfully, only a little blood had gotten on the rest of the floor and stairwell. A good scrubbing took care of it. Everything was good as new within a half of an hour. Satisfied, Yuuri went into the kitchen and got a headstart on preparing the doughs for the day.
Fifteen minutes into the process, Phichit arrived, slipping silently through the back kitchen door with black-lined eyes and glitter on his cheeks.
Yuuri chuckled and asked, “Where did you go last night?”
Phichit removed his black face mask and smirked. “A party.”
“A party on a Tuesday? What crowd do you hang out with? Hey--you’d better not get any of that glitter in my bread dough.”
His friend laughed and blinked rapidly. “What, you don’t like my fetching eyes, Yuuri?”
“Your fetching eyes need to be washed before you see customers. You look like you’ve been crying or something with all that mascara running down your cheeks”
“It’s part of the look!” Phichit flung a hand to his chest, affronted.
“Look or not, it’ll be distracting to the little old ladies who come here for their danishes every morning.”
Phichit grumbled something in Thai under his breath and went to the bathroom in the hall between the kitchen and shop. When he returned, he looked considerably younger and his brown cheeks were clean of most of the glitter.
“Happy?”
“Very,” Yuuri said, without looking too closely.
Phichit crossed his arms and shot Yuuri a look that rang of false irritation. Then his gaze deepened and he said, “You look like death. Did that many customers come through after I left last night?”
Yuuri hadn’t really spent too much time looking in the mirror this morning, but judging by the sandpapery feeling crusting around his eyes, he could believe Phichit’s words. “Something like that,” he muttered.
“I can take care of this if you need to go back to sleep for a little while,” his friend offered.
Yuuri smiled and shook his head. “I’m awake now. No sense going back to bed. Yuuko’s not going to be here until nine today anyway, so I don’t want to leave you with all the prep by yourself.”
Phichit shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t offer, buddy.”
They fell into a companionable silence and Yuuri focused on kneading the dough for his famous shortbread cookies after he finished the bread dough. With every moist turn of the glutenous mass, he wondered how the man upstairs was doing. Why had he been so insistent to stay out of the hospital? He was obviously foreign...was there some problem with his visa or did he lack the funds for healthcare? The fact that his clothing had seemed so expensive rather negated that possibility. Yuuri bit his lip to keep from muttering to himself as he worked the dough.
Behind him, Phichit greased baking pans and trays. “You’re awfully quiet this morning. You sure you’re alright, Yuuri?”
“I’m fine,” he said, though he wasn’t sure how true his words were.
They continued their work until seven when the first set of baking began. After sliding the tins and pans into the ovens, Yuuri took off his apron and wiped at his forehead with a white cloth.
“Thanks, Phichit. Do you mind if I run upstairs and shower before we open?”
His friend stared at him, a perplexed frown on his face. “You didn’t shower last night? Or this morning?”
“Got side-tracked last night and came straight down this morning,” Yuuri said, avoiding the full truth.
Phichit shook his head, heaving an exasperated sigh. “The things I do for you. Go! Off with you! Don’t want you scaring those sweet little old ladies with your unwashed filth.”
“That’s a little extreme, but I appreciate you keeping an eye on things. I’ll be right back,” Yuuri laughed.
He went up the stairs, trying to avoid the creakiest spots so that he wouldn’t wake the man before he had to. In the apartment, an unnatural silence met him. A sinking feeling squirmed in his chest. It didn’t mean anything. It’s not like his ears were good enough to hear the man’s soft breaths in his sleep, but somehow the expected quiet chilled him. Morning light fell gently across the wooden floorboards and the tick of the wall clock measured out the hour. Yuuri immediately went to his bedroom door and pushed it open to reveal what he already knew.
The man was gone.