TW: Druncan

Title: ~Foot~

A bloodcurdling scream split the night, shattering the peace of Sjin’s quiet farm. 

In an instant, the double mahogany doors were flung open as the farmer burst out of his house, worriedly looking in the direction of the sound. As his gaze fell upon the figure hunched over in his wheat field, his eyes went wide and he sprinted forward. 

“Oh, god, are you okay?!” He gasped out as he drew closer to the person, who seemed to beclutching their ankle. 

“Fine,” the man responded, rising to his feet. He swayed from side to side on his good foot, teetering dangerously. 

“Lalna?” Sjin blinked in surprise, cautiously placing on hand on the scientist’s shoulder. 

A bubbly, reckless giggle floated out of the man’s mouth, and he turned, gripping Sjin close in a hug that was for support as much as anything. “Never been be’er,” he said, his words slurring together carelessly. 

“Dear God, are you drunk?!" Sjin asked, something akin to fear in his voice. 

A devilish grin tugged at the scientist’s lips. “‘Course not,” he mumbled, leaning on Sjin as the farmer half supported him, half dragged him to the nearby house. 

Sjin helped the scientist sink onto a wooden chair, propping his injured right foot on another chair. It was swelling nastily, but Lalna didn’t seem to notice the pain as he chattered away to Sjin mindlessly. The farmer supposed the alcohol would take the edge off of a broken ankle - though it could just as easily be sprained. 

“So, how’d this happen?” Sjin asked almost conversationally, more out of wanting to distract Lalna than out of personal curiosity. 

“Flying ring broke,” Lalna muttered, gritting his teeth as the farmer carefully wrapped a bandage around the injured joint. “I was jus’ coming back from the fac’ory, too.” 

Sjin noticed, surprisingly calmly, that the scientist had a lisp when he was drunk, and couldn’t pronounce his t’s. Any he did say were more of a clicking sound that an actual letter, though still distinguishable from the rest of his slurred speech. 

“I thought the ones you made got rid of fall damage,” he said quietly, going through his cabinets as he looked for something that would suffice as a splint. 

“Funny thing is,” Lalna said with an agreeing chuckle, “So di’ I.” 

“Huh,” the farmer muttered noncommittally, turning back to tend to the scientist’s swollen foot. He didn’t speak again, instead treating Lalna’s wounds in silence. 

“Anywhere else hurt?” Sjin asked when he was finally done, treating the drunken man as he would treat a small child by itself. 

Lalna swung his foot off of the chair, letting out a short gasp as it hit the ground with a solid thunk.

The pain momentarily cleared his thoughts, and he managed to stand up, teetering dangerously where he stood, even with the support from the chair. 

“C’mon,” Sjin said, pulling one of the scientist’s arms across his shoulders. He let Lalna lean heavily on him as the two slowly made their way upstairs, to where his only (double) bed in the house was. 

“So we sleep ‘ogether?” Lalna said with a giggle, the beer once more clouding his judgment. 

“A-Ah, no, it’s, ah, f-fine,” Sjin stammered, taking a pace back as if to avoid getting forced into sleeping in the same bed as Lalna. 

“Come on, you big wuss,” Lalna said with a tired sigh, as though Sjin had said something completely ridiculous. 

The scientist sank back onto the bed, hefting his heavily bandaged foot up beside him after a brief struggle. He grabbed Sjin’s hands and pulled the uncertain farmer down, letting out a drunken laugh as Sjin landed on top of him. 

“Oh, ah, s-sorry.” Sjin stumbled over his apology as he rolled off of Lalna, scooting to the other side of the bed. 

The drunk scientist turned his head to look at Sjin, who glanced at him in response. 

Without warning, Lalna leaned forward, kissing Sjin lightly. He pulled away before the farmer could react, shifting onto his side with a mumbled, “Goo’ night.” 

Sjin was glad Lalna had turned away; his face was bright red, and he could taste alcohol on his lips. “Night,” he muttered in response, finally forcing himself to fall asleep beside the scientist. 

And, of course, it was Lalna that woke the farmer up later than he’d intended to sleep. It was the creaking of the bed springs that first alerted him to the scientist’s stirring. 

Sjin opened his eyes to see Lalna’s panicked face inches from his own. With a jolt of shock, he jerked away, only to find his arms tangled around the scientist and their hands intertwined. 

After a few awkward apologies and some mumbled cursing, they were both sitting on opposite sides of the bed, looking anywhere but at each other. 

“Is your headache bad?” Sjin asked quietly, turning to look at Lalna, who was vacantly staring out of the window at the wheat field. 

Flinching at the sudden interruption of the silence, the scientist turned to meet Sjin’s gaze, a faint blush spreading across his face. “Oh, uh, yeah, actually,” he mumbled. “My foot’s not much better.” 

“What I wonder,” the farmer thought aloud to himself, “Is how you got hurt.”

Lalna blinked, as though surprised Sjin hadn’t figured it out yet. “I did it on purpose,” he said quietly. 

The farmer turned to stare at the scientist, his eyes wide and questioning in surprise. 

“I’d planned it out,” Lalna explained patiently. “I just needed the courage to actually do it.” 

Sjin snorted. “So you got drunk.” 

“Exactly.”