◣ better ◥ :

    Chuuya sleeps soundly, because it’s been some time now since he’d managed to fall asleep so soundly. He didn’t like to sleep early, because more often than not he felt restless. Thoughts much better left tucked into the depths of his mind chance at slipping through the cracks of his mental wall, and the silence leaves little room for distraction. So he works. He keeps himself distracted, as long as he can.

    This time around, he’s too exhausted both mentally and physically to focus on the nothingness, and he drifts off into a well-needed slumber in a matter of seconds. He shifts ever so slightly when Kyouka slips from the covers and wanders about the room, seemingly picking up on the quiet sounds if only vaguely. It’s not quite enough to stir him, however.

    It’s only when the sound of a kettle whistling from another room catches his attention that he slowly peeks his eyes open. Chuuya stares across the room, and he very abruptly regrets having turned onto his side in his sleep. Slowly, Chuuya turns himself so that he’s laying back, grunting when an unpleasant jolt of pain surges throughout his injured side.

    “ Shit… ” he utters, barely coherently. Already having hurt himself this much, he decidedly forces himself upright; slowly, though, because he doesn’t want to put any stress on the cauterised wound. It’s then that he notices a clean shirt settled beside the futon. Chuuya blinks and then lifts the garment, slipping it up over his head - ( because he presumes that’s what it had been set there for ) - and then settles one hand atop his abdomen. 

    This would do, for now.

◣ ✿ ◥ When she heard the noise from the other room, Kyouka was about to take the kettle off and pour the tea, only to abandon the task in lieu of checking on her patient; it whistled while she walked over to where Chuuya was and stared down at him. Well, he appeared to still be alive and breathing, so that was good. “Are you okay? I might be able to find some painkillers.”

The answer was obvious, however, so she barely waited a few seconds before turning around to go search for some. She rummaged through the kitchen cabinets (and lifted the kettle’s cover as she passed it so it would cease making noise), some of which she had to climb onto the counter to reach. After a minute or two, she found the proper bottle, removed two pills from it, and climbed back down to where she poured a glass of water. She brought the items back out to Chuuya and held them out for him.

“Here.” She didn’t know if it would help much, but it’d be better than nothing. Eating should help too as long as he was careful about his wound in the process. Either way, she was content with the fact of him being alive–she’d done a good enough job so far, even if he’d do well to see an actual doctor later. Mafia members were tough, she knew, but near-fatal wounds could get the best of anyone. “I’m making food and tea, but you can go back to sleep if you want.”