The sound of rain hammering against the apartment’s windows roused Zitao gently from his sleep. Yawning, he stretched (not unlike a cat) and smiled, relaxing in this position as he let his memories and thoughts from the previous day come flowing back. His gaze flickered up and he looked out the windows, cheerfully realising the world still looked grey, similar to the night before.

Zitao got up and stretched again, bending slightly as he checked on the condition of his guest on the couch. He frowned, looking over the man's face carefully. It seemed pale and his cheeks were flushed. From where he was standing, Zitao could see beads of sweat on his face, yet he appeared to be shivering. Worried, he nudged the man gently. “Sir?”

The man didn’t respond, so Zitao repeated the action a few times. Eventually the man raised a hand to wipe his face. Noticing that the guy’s hands were ridiculously huge (and wondering why he’d noticed that in the first place) Zitao waited patiently for him to properly wake.

The stranger groaned wordlessly, but it broke off into a violent cough halfway, forcing him to sit up straight. He stared silently at Zitao, balancing awkwardly because of his injuries and panting through his mouth rather than breathing normally.

“Sir, are you okay?” Zitao asked gently, then felt stupid as he realised the man obviously wasn’t. “Actually don’t answer that, I can see you’re not,” he amended, averting his eyes from meeting the man’s gaze.

The stranger laughed brokenly and it turned into a wheezing battle for air. The man leaned back against the armrest of the couch, fixing a pleading gaze on Zitao. “Water… Please…” he rasped, barely audible.

Zitao mentally kicked himself for standing there doing nothing and ran to get him some water. He helped his guest drink, tilting the glass to allow the sparkling clear water to trickle into his mouth. The man emptied the glass gratefully without pausing for breath. “Thank you.” The stranger wheezed, his voice a little stronger.

Zitao didn’t reply straightaway, instead gazing at him sympathetically. “Ah, sir… You’re so sick… Let me call Yixing.”

Yixing was an early bird much like Zitao, and so it was he answered the phone with a cheerful, “What’s up Tao? How’s your buddy?”

“Hey, Yixing. He’s not well, I’m afraid. I don’t think I can leave him…” Zitao trailed off, wondering if Yixing would be mad at him for having to drive all the way back to his apartment.

“And you want me to come to your place? No problem, I’ll bring coffee.” He offered brightly. Zitao agreed eagerly. They had always shared the same fondness for Western food.

“Yixing, I don’t mind paying for fuel to drive here again!” Zitao interjected anxiously, “And I’ll pay you back for the coffee.”

Yixing laughed, “It’s no problem, Tao, it’s really not a bother-“

“Are you sure it’s not a bother, Lay?” Zitao interjected mischievously.

“Aw man, it’s been a while since I heard that name. I’ll be there soon, all right?” Yixing laughed.

“No problem, see you soon.” Zitao replied, and ended the call.

Turning back to the stranger, he announced, “My cousin will be here again soon. He’ll know how to make you better, sir.” He said reassuringly.

Zitao laughed to himself for a bit then continued, “And then maybe I can finally learn your name. I mean, calling you sir isn’t really problematic or anything, names are just easier, you know?” he ducked his head, embarrassed at managing to make such a simple statement so complicated.

The stranger on the couch snorted and managed a weak smirk, then frowned and ran his hand through his hair weakly in an effort to stop it from plastering to his face.

Zitao was still for a moment, at a loss for words. “So I guess we wait for Yixing to get here, huh?” he asked, scratching the back of his head. As the silence stretched he added hastily, “I’m gonna go shower.”

Zitao did just that, and he was digging around in his drawers for a shirt when there was a knocking at the door. “I’m coming!” he yelled down the hall, thoughts of shirts flying out of his mind in his hurry.

When he opened the door he was met with a quizzical glance and a smirk from Yixing. Zitao looked himself up and down (he was messy-haired and shirtless in a pair of jeans, as he’d expected.) After a few seconds it dawned on him what his friend was implying. “Nothing like that happened, you sick bastard. I just got out of the shower.”

Yixing laughed out loud, pushing past Zitao to get into the apartment. “Who said I was implying anything of the sort?” Before Zitao could interject he continued, “Now where’s our buddy at?”

Zitao followed Yixing to the couch, hoping the stranger hadn’t heard their exchange. He hadn’t, but he did eye the still-shirtless Zitao curiously for a while before turning his attention to Yixing.

Yixing slipped into doctor mode and felt the man’s forehead with the back of his hand. He dug around in his bag (it was the same one as the night before) and produced a flat stick and a pocket torch.

“Say ‘ahhhh’,” he coaxed, placing the stick down against the stranger’s tongue and using the light to help him see down their guest’s throat.

Seeming satisfied, he turned back to Zitao. “It’s just a bad cold, and a mild fever. Nothing dangerous and can be easily fixed.” He dug around in his bag a little more, lifting up a series of bottles and checking the labels on each. Eventually he set some aside, and pulled out another little box.

“Okay, just make sure he takes some paracetamol,” he handed Zitao the bottle, “and he can take the lozenges if his bad throat is bothering him.”

“Is that all?” Zitao asked, surprised. In his defence, the man looked really unwell.

“Make sure he rests up, and drinks plenty of water.” Yixing said finally. “He should be better in a couple of days, he seems pretty tough.”

“Tough?” Zitao asked quizzically, not seeing what his guest's masculinity had to do with anything.

“Healthy.” Yixing said slowly, reaching forwards to poke his cousin in the middle of the forehead. “I almost forgot, your coffee’s over there on the bench. You owe me for that.”

Zitao picked up his coffee and inhaled the scent appreciatively, taking a quick sip and making a face when it burnt his mouth.

Yixing sighed mockingly and turned to the man on the couch, smirking as he gestured to Zitao. “This guy’s hopeless. It won’t be long before you’re the one taking care of him.”

The stranger smiled slightly, admiring the pair’s easy relationship. They seemed a lot closer now, he realised, than they had the night before when the both of them were tired and stressed after a long day.

Zitao ignored Yixing’s words to the stranger.  Fetching some cash from his wallet for Yixing he instead asked, “Is there anything I have to do to care for his wounds?”

Yixing mulled it over for a while. “There’s nothing specific you really need to do apart from changing the dressings and bathing the wounds every few days, but that’s simple enough. I brought a pair of crutches for him. He won’t be needing them for too long; his wound wasn’t as bad as I first thought.”

Turning to the stranger, he said wryly, “You were incredibly lucky to be shot and stabbed and to only get away with these injuries. In the future I would advise you avoid people trying to kill you like that.”

Shock pierced the man’s expression for a few heartbeats. How did he know those guys were trying to kill him?! He relaxed, however, as he realised it was only common sense that told Yixing he had been attacked with the intent to kill. Not many people he knew brutally attacked their friends for fun.

Oblivious, Yixing continued. “I’ll be back to take your stitches out in ten days. When I come back I’ll assess your leg as well and we’ll see if you can come off your crutches. The crutches will feel strange to use at first and they will probably make your shoulder wound ache so I would advise you don’t stray far from the apartment in that time.”

“Got it.” The man croaked from the couch, and Yixing frowned. “Right, your cold. Well, care for it as I advised before. The worst of it should be over in two or three days; keep taking the medication until then.”

Zitao narrowed his eyes, committing all this information to memory.

“Okay, I’m just going to get the crutches from the car and then we’re done here. Any questions?” Yixing asked, glancing around the apartment.

Both men shook their heads.

“Right, be back in a minute or two.”

As they waited patiently Zitao fetched a notebook from his kitchen bench and scrawled down everything he’d been told.

Cold

2-3 days. Give paracetamol and lozenges. Bed rest and plenty of water necessary.

Stitches

Change dressings every 2 days. Bathe carefully. Taken out in 10 days. Crutches may agitate them.

Leg wound

Change dressings every 2 days. Bathe carefully. Re-assessed in 10 days. Use crutches to walk at all times.

When Yixing returned with the crutches he went over how to adjust them with the stranger and left them besides the couch. “If any wounds re-open or there are any questions, just call,” he told Zitao, who nodded as he tentatively took another sip of his coffee.

“Get better soon!” Yixing addressed the man cheerfully, waving as he gathered his belongings.

“Thank you so much, Yixing. I really owe you one,” Zitao said gratefully.

“Repay the favour by putting on a shirt. Nobody wants to see that,” his cousin replied teasingly.

Zitao huffed grumpily; they both knew he was proud of his physique (and his tattoos.)

“See you later, guys.” Yixing laughed as he left the apartment.

Zitao sighed and went to find a shirt.

After a simple breakfast of porridge, Zitao helped the stranger take his medicine and spent the rest of the day  busying himself with simple chores, happy to let the stranger rest and recuperate. It was only when Zitao had made dinner and they were eating that the stranger spoke again.

“Huang Zitao,” he spoke with a low voice which was already much stronger after a day of rest.

“Yes?” Zitao replied, not taking his gaze away from the sitcom that was playing on the TV.

“Thank you,” the man rumbled, a hint of warmth in his tone.

“…For this?” Zitao asked blankly, staring down at the food on his plate. “It’s no problem.”

The stranger chuckled. “No. For everything. You... It's cheesy but you saved my life.”

Zitao thought about it for a while, and then shrugged shyly as he realised the man was right, “it was nothing. Yixing did everything anyway. Don’t worry about it.”

The stranger shook his head but stayed silent and watched him for a while longer, his mind hard at work. From what he’d seen already he knew Zitao was a kind person at heart, despite the fact that his neutral expression looked like a deadly scowl on his sharp features. Suddenly he remembered that Zitao still didn’t know his name.

“Um,” he cleared his throat, which turned into an inconvenient coughing fit.

“Are you okay, sir?” Zitao asked, concerned.

“Yeah... Did you still want my name?” came the response.

“If you’re comfortable with me using it, then yeah.” Zitao replied calmly.

“My name is Wufan. But call me Kris.” Wufan told him.

Zitao beamed at him. Just knowing the man's name made the entire atmosphere of the room seem more comfortable. “Those names suit you,” he commented offhandedly, standing and taking the dishes to the sink.

Wufan raised an eyebrow, unsure of how serious he was being.

“No, really.” Zitao laughed, and went around the apartment performing his usual night-time habits – locking the doors, turning off lights, brushing his teeth, the like.

Returning to his makeshift bed by Wufan’s couch, Zitao snuggled in with a blissful sigh. He was happy to see the city was still grey, with no breaks in the cloud cover on the horizon.

“You don’t mind if I sleep early, do you?” Zitao asked, yawning. Even though the day hadn’t been busy he was eager to catch up on missed sleep.

“Go for it,” Wufan replied calmly, already sounding drowsy.

It wasn’t lost on either of them how close they’d become in such a short space of time, but neither of them felt the need to mention it – it seemed natural that once you’d saved someone’s life you formed a close bond with them fairly easily.

As Zitao felt himself starting to lose his mind in thought, he realised that he still knew nothing about Wufan, although he seemed like a nice guy. Shrugging to himself, he realised all that meant is that they’d have to talk more tomorrow, which was no chore. I’m looking forwards to it, he realised. He was curious to find out what Wufan could have done to be attacked like that. He didn't believe he'd made an error in judging Wufan's personality - Zitao was 97% sure he was a legitimately decent guy, so it remained to be seen what happened.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by a deep rumble of, “Goodnight, Tao.”

"Goodnight, Kris," Zitao replied as the greyscale world lulled him into sleep.

A/N: Whew, long chapter! Sorry if that was boring, guys. It was mostly filling out necessities to avoid continuity errors. 

Hopefully the next chapter will be more interesting to you all ^_^