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CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
sugar rush

—

༇ THE pharmacy is quiet.

Dust swirls in beneath the dim light, and the sound of gunfire and chaos outside dulled to a distant hum.

Chishiya sits propped against a low shelf, legs stretched out in front of him, his hands resting loosely on his stomach. His face is unnervingly pale, his hair damp where sweat clings to his forehead.

Baya sits across from him, one knee drawn toward her chest. Her hands—and clothes, and practically her entire body—are still marked with his blood. Her knuckles are raw from pressure.

"How's the surgeon's work holding up?" she asks.

The barest ghost of a smile appears on his face. "You'll need to improve your technique."

"Excuse me?"

"Loose knots." His gaze drifts toward the floor. "Might fall apart."

"Pff! You're seriously criticizing my work?"

"You can take it."

"You almost died and I saved you."

She shifts her eyes toward his chest and side. The dark stain of blood beneath the bandages hasn't spread, but his chest rises and falls too quickly. Sweat trails down the curve of his throat. His hands spasm slightly.

"How bad is it?" she asks.

"Manageable."

"Liar. You need painkillers."

"It'll pass."

"You're not fooling me."

"I'm not trying to."

Baya's gaze sharpens. "Chishiya. You need to take something."

"I'm fine."

"You're sweating."

"It's hot in here."

"You're shaking."

"I've had worse."

"Don't give me that bullshit."

A thin muscle flexes beneath his jaw.

"You're not fine," Baya says.

"Maybe not."

He looks at the row of shelves on the other side of the pharmacy— toward the bottles lined there.

"Chishiya—"

His hand pushes against the floor. His body tenses.

"I need..." He pushes to his feet in one rough motion. His knee buckles. His shoulder crashes into the side of the shelf. Bottles rattle. One falls and shatters beneath his feet.

"Hey!"

Baya scrambles toward him.

Chishiya's hand lashes toward the nearest shelf, and he drags down a line of plastic bottles. They clatter to the floor in a loud, hollow echo. His hand brushes toward one, shakes violently, and then drops.

"Stop—" Baya surges toward him.

"I need it," Chishiya snaps.

Baya grabs his arm. "Are you out of your mind? Sit down!" She yanks him toward the floor before his head can hit the edge of the shelf. "You idiot!"

"Let me—" His hand stretches toward the bottles. His fingertips brush against one of them.

Baya smacks his hand away. "Stop!"

"I need it—"

"You don't even know what's in there!"

Chishiya's breath fractures. His hand jerks toward his stomach again. His jaw goes white beneath the pressure of his teeth. His shoulders tense sharply beneath his shirt. His head tilts back, colliding with the edge of the shelf. A sound escapes his throat.

Baya stares at him in horror. Chishiya normally keeps his cool, even when he's in pain—so this moment betrays that whatever he's feeling right now is absolutely unbearable. "You're not thinking straight, Chishiya."

His teeth grind audibly. His chest rises and falls in heavy bursts. His hands curl into the floor beside him, trembling from the strain of holding himself together.

"Chishiya."

He doesn't respond. Another tremor pulses down his arm. Baya drops to her knees beside him.

"Hey," she says. "Hey—look at me."

His eyes flick toward her—but barely. "Catecholamine depletion," he breathes. "My sympathetic nervous system is collapsing. There's not enough norepinephrine or epinephrine left to maintain cardiac output."

"In normal terms, please."

"I'm losing blood faster than my body can compensate. Blood pressure's dropping. When that happens, my heart starts pumping faster to make up for it—but I'm already running out of the hormones that help regulate that response."

"Meaning?"

"My heart can't keep up. Reduced venous return... lower stroke volume... less blood being pushed out with each beat..." His breaths heave. "If it drops too low—organ failure."

Baya's hand tightens over his arm. "How do we stop it?"

"You need to increase my preload—"

"Normal terms, Chishiya!"

"Lie me down. Lift my legs. It'll push more blood toward my heart."

"Okay. What else?"

"Vasoconstriction." His eyes slip shut for a moment. "My blood vessels are dilating because of the drop in volume. Constricting them will increase vascular resistance and keep blood flow directed toward vital organs."

"I told you to use normal terms," she murmurs. "How do I do that?"

"Cold... cold redirects blood toward the core."

"I don't have ice."

"Then just... keep me warm. Trick my body into thinking it's cold."

"And the pain?"

"No easy fix. Could try a beta-blocker, but I don't think we have any."

"Then what?"

Chishiya nods at her wrist. "Press your wrist into my hand."

"What?"

"Baroreceptor reflex. If I can feel your pulse, it might slow mine down. Stabilize the rhythm."

"That'll work?"

His eyes slip shut another time. "Most likely. It worked before."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She mumbles before she slips her wrist toward his hand. Chishiya's fingers curl toward the thin beat beneath her skin.

Chishiya's chest rises and falls, but slower. Baya leans back, relieved once again, until his breath catches sharply in his throat. His hand jerks away from her wrist.

"Chishiya—"

He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. Baya's heart lurches into her throat. "Chishiya!"

"Baya—"

"What's happening?" She panics.

"Neurogenic shock," he breathes. His hand clenches toward his heart. "Sympathetic nervous system failure. Vasodilation... no blood returning to the heart... hypoperfusion—"

"Chishiya!"

His eyes glaze. "Can't... compensate—"

"Talk to me— stop with the medical terms!"

"I need vasoconstriction—"

She can't breathe. "You already said that!"

His chest seizes, hands trembling so violently that they fall to the floor.

"Oh, hell no—" Baya's hands grab his face. "Stay with me."

His lips are faintly blue. His skin is frighteningly pale beneath the sheet of sweat. His pulse is too fast, thin and weak beneath her fingertips.

"Epipen." His mouth barely forms the word. "Adrenaline."

She scrambles toward the bottles. Her hands lash toward the plastic containers on the floor. Her fingers brush against one of them— Epinephrine.

"Hold on, Chishiya." She snaps off the cap. The needle glints beneath the dim light. Holding it, she crouches back down beside it, pressing a hand to his cheek. He doesn't respond.

She drives the needle inside his thigh without hesitation. Chishiya's body jolts beneath her touch.

"Come on, come on," she prays.

His breath breaks, then catches. He opens his eyes. They still look like they're in hazy cloud.  Baya drops the empty injector. Her hands stretch toward his face. "Are you—"

He immediately reaches for her wrist. "I'm okay," he murmurs.

"You're not okay," she freaks out. "You almost—"

Chishiya's thumb presses deeper into her skin. "I'm okay."

"Don't scare me like that again."

"I'll try."

When he tries to sit up, Baya pushes him back down. "You need to stay still."

Chishiya exhales slowly, his eyes half-lidded. His fingers flex weakly around her wrist, but there's strength in the way he holds on. "I'm fine no."

"You're not fine." Baya's voice is sharp. Her hands press into his shoulders, keeping him pinned. "You just went into shock. You almost died, Chishiya."

Though that calculating edge in his eyes is already returning, they're still weak. "Yet you fixed it."

"Barely!" She can feel it beneath her skin, the goosebumps of how close she came to losing him. "You think that's enough? You think I can just sit here and act like you didn't almost—"

"Baya."

"No." Her thumb traces the line of his jaw, her palm pressing over the damp skin beneath his ear. "Don't tell me it's fine. You were scared, too."

Chishiya's breath stops for half a second. His fingers shift against her wrist.

"I saw it," Baya whispers. "You knew how close it was."

He stares at the broken glass on the floor, the scattered bottles of useless medication. "Death doesn't scare me," he says finally. "But..." Their eyes lock. "Maybe I don't want to die yet."

A tear falls from her eye. "Then stop being reckless."

He smiles a bit. "You'd miss me?"

She shoves his shoulder—not hard, but enough to make him grimace. "Don't joke about this."

His thumb continues tracing the beat of her pulse. His eyes are still a little distant, a little unfocused, but they're on her. Entirely on her. "Don't worry," he says. His voice is softer this time. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

"Good, because next time you scare me like that, I'm letting you die."

"You wouldn't."

"No. I wouldn't."

Both of them chuckle quietly.

His hand drifts toward her face, fingers brushing against the blood-streaked line of her jaw. "You should lie down, too."

Baya snorts. "Nice try."

"You're shaking."

"So are you."

He sighs. "Just stay with me."

"Always," Baya promises. She snuggles close to him, careful not to hurt him but making sure she's touching him. "How do you think the others are doing? Kuina and Ann? Usagi? Arisu?"

"When I left the house to free you, Ann told me she would meet us in the center. I told her not to, but I don't think she listened. Kuina must've gone with her. But they're strong. If they came across Arisu and Usagi, I'm sure they can keep theirselves safe from the King of Spades," he summarizes slowly.

"Should I go check? I barely hear gunshots."

Chishiya shakes his head. "No."

"But—"

"No."

"What if they need help? The blimp hasn't exploded yet! The King isn't dead. I know Arisu won't give up before he is dead."

"And what're you planning to do when you're right in front of the King?"

"Eh..."

"Exactly. We should stay here and rest. Just wait for the outcome. We've done enough."

"We've done nothing."

"We beat many other face cards and we tried our best to kill the King of Spades."

Baya exhales. "You're right. But..." She stands up.

Chishiya's body tenses. "What're you doing?"

"Don't worry. I'll be back!"

"Baya!" His voice is loud, more demanding than ever. "Don't go outside."

"Don't worry." She smiles. "I won't. I'm just going to grab us something."

"Imagine it like this—"

"I don't need a lecture."

"Shut up." Baya sits straight up. Her eyes have gotten used to the darkness by now, so she can see the edges of his body. "You know, whenever I'm sad, I like it when people hug me, things like that."

"Mhm."

"But you feed me cookies when I'm sad," she goes on. "Which means that's how you would want to be comforted if you'd be sad. Now, you need to know that I don't want the cookies, but the hugs."

"You're talking to me like I'm a kid."

"When it comes to things like that, you kind of are," she comments. "What I'm saying is that sometimes, you need to adjust to other people, and from now on, I'll give you cookies when you need them, and you'll give me hugs when I need them."

"Doesn't make sense to me."

After a few minutes of searching the exact cookies he loves, she returns, shaking the package in front of his eyes. "Look!"

His head lifts off the shelf behind him.

Chishiya's hand shoots out so fast that Baya barely yanks the package away in time.

"Hold on." She grins. "Aren't you supposed to be recovering?"

"Be nice to your patient and just hand them over."

"Say please."

He stares at her.

"After that stunt you pulled? No way you're getting these without a 'please'."

"Give me the cookies."

"You're obsessed."

"And?"

"And you almost died!" Her voice spikes as she continues teasing. "Maybe you don't need sugar right now—"

"I always need sugar."

Her grip on the package falters for half a second, and that's all Chishiya needs. He snatches the cookies from her hand in one smooth motion.

"Hey!" She takes it back. "You're injured! You can't move!"

"Apparently I can."

Baya rips the package apart with her teeth, spilling a few cookies into her palm. She raises an eyebrow at Chishiya, who's already sitting up more than he probably should be.

She pops a cookie into her mouth, chewing exaggeratedly. "You almost died. Shouldn't you take it easy?"

"Shouldn't you be a little more generous toward someone who almost died?"

"You're not getting the whole package."

Chishiya extends his hand toward her, palm open. "Just one."

"Oh, you want one?" She holds a cookie between her fingers and leans toward him. "Come get it."

He leans in and swipes the cookie from her fingers with his teeth, brushing her fingertips in the process. "Hey—" she starts.

"You said to come get it."

Baya's face warms, but she disguises it by reaching for another cookie. "Fine. But I'm keeping the rest."

"You're not."

"I am."

"Are you?" Chishiya's hand shoots toward the package again, but Baya yanks it out of reach, holding it above her head.

"You're seriously trying to steal from a girl who just saved your life?"

Chishiya moves too fast for someone who almost died five minutes ago and takes the package.

Baya gasps. "How dare you?"

"I almost died," he reminds her. "Have some pity."

"You almost died because of your own stupidity!"

He tears open the package further, the plastic crinkling between his fingers. He plucks out a cookie and holds it toward her mouth. "Open."

She scowls. "You're not feeding me."

He crouches beside her, his posture stiff and a little off. It's like he's trying to figure out what to do—whether to sit, to stay standing, or maybe even leave. After a moment of awkward silence, he pulls out a small bag of cookies and a water bottle.

Baya takes it, unscrewing the cap, and takes a slow sip. Then, she also takes the cookies. Her hands tremble so heavily that she's unable to open it and almost breaks down crying again.

Chishiya opens it for her. Baya tries again, sticking one of the cookies in her mouth. A sob interrupts her mid-bite, causing it to fly the ground.

"I opened the bag. I'm not also going to feed you," Chishiya murmurs as he gets up.

Chishiya raises an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Positive."

He waits, the cookie held in front of her lips. Slowly, Baya's gaze flicks from the cookie to his face. She hesitates for a second too long. Chishiya takes advantage of it, slipping the cookie between her teeth.

"You—" she starts.

He chews another cookie calmly. "What?"

"You—" Baya's words trail off when he meets her gaze with that infuriatingly calm expression. "You're ridiculous."

When he pulls out another cookie and offers it toward her mouth, she doesn't protest this time. She bites down. Chishiya's thumb brushes the corner of her lips.

"You had a crumb," he murmurs.

Baya's breath stutters. Her mouth opens like she's about to say something, but then she huffs, reaching for the cookie package again. "You can take one, too."

Chishiya's hand shoots out and snatches the package.

"Hey!" She lunges for it, but Chishiya slides it just out of reach, looking far too pleased with himself.

"You said to take one," he points out.

"That was not an invitation to steal."

Chishiya holds up a cookie between two fingers. "Want it back?"

Baya narrows her eyes. "Stop feeding me."

"Open up," he teases.

Baya laughs and tries to swat his hand away. "Stop—"

He slips the cookie into her mouth before she can finish. Baya nearly chokes, coughing through laughter as crumbs spill down her chin.

"Wow," she manages through a mouthful.

Chishiya looks completely unbothered. "You asked for it."

"Oh, did I?"

Before he can respond, Baya grabs two cookies from the package and shoves them both toward his mouth.

Chishiya's eyes widen. "Don't—"

But Baya is already stuffing them in. He tries to protest, but he's too busy chewing to stop her.

"We planned to kill the King of Spades like this, not me," he coughs.

Chishiya's hand darts toward the package. Baya yelps and grabs for it at the same time. They wrestle over it for a second—Baya laughing too hard to hold on properly—before Chishiya triumphantly pulls out another cookie.

He leans toward her, cookie in hand, but Baya is faster. She grabs his wrist and steers the cookie toward his mouth instead. He raises an eyebrow but opens his mouth.

They're both laughing now. Baya breathless, Chishiya's shoulders shaking slightly. She rests her forehead against his as he swallows the cookie away, smiling wide.

"You're so annoying," Baya says.

"You're worse," Chishiya says.

At the same time, they stuff a cookie in each other's mouth. Baya laughs even louder, leaving to a heavy cough, and Chishiya inhales so sharply that he chokes.

Ten minutes and three empty packages later, Baya takes a breath. "You should rest."

"After the next cookie."

"You said that three cookies ago."

He shrugs. "Sugar is good right now." Smiling, he sticks half of a cookie in his mouth, leaving the other half dangling off his lips.

Baya leans in, biting down on the half. Their lips brush as she pulls back. Her cheeks become red.

Soon, the cookie is forgotten, and their lips meet again, the sweet taste of sugar lingering between them.