Everything will be okay

WARNING: gore

The young man's hands trembled when he tried to open his jacket, but his fingers were so clumsy that he only fumbled with the zipper.

"Here, let me help you," his roommate said gently as he did it for him. The tattooed arms carefully slipped the black coat off the man's slim shoulders and hung it neatly on the rack.

The blue eyes scanned the penthouse he had returned to, observing the modern decor and the plush furniture that had been there since he moved in.

The last time he was in that place was over a month ago, spent half of it in the hospital and the other half held hostage by the yakuza. The memories of those days were still fresh in his mind, but he was ready to put them behind him as he stepped further into the apartment.

His shaky steps were washed over by dizziness and he stumbled a bit. His roommate's hand helped him regain his balance, so he whispered a quiet thank you before continuing.

"Why don't you lie down?"

Jiro quickly plumped the cushions on the L-shaped couch, creating a comfortable nest for his flatmate. His pale brown eyes glanced at the faint punctures in Natsuo's arms as he helped him rest, but the man didn't dare say anything. He had told him what had happened in the damp basement, from the threats of death to the torture, as well as the pain and suffering caused by the needles.

"Are you hungry?" the white-haired man asked as he placed a blanket around the younger one's slender frame, careful not to disturb him as he curled up into a ball.

"I can make or get anything you want," he continued.

"You know I'm not picky about food..."

"Cherries are your favorite, right?"

Memories of his adoptive father's childhood rural home played in his mind. He remembered the elderly woman who acted like a grandmother to him, who gave him fresh cherries behind his father's back. They were the closest alternative to sweets, since he wasn't allowed to eat sugary treats.

Natsuo nodded feebly as his cheeks warmed.

"Yeah, but you don't need to bother..."

"It's nothing, don't worry about it. Let me make you something good."

Jiro left him a phone and a remote on the coffee table so he could reach them anytime. Before heading to the kitchen, he gave the other a comforting smile.

"Jiro?"

The man turned around at once, looking curiously at his counterpart.

"Thanks... for everything," Natsuo muttered.

He had expressed his gratitude the entire time he was in the hospital, but it became even more meaningful when he understood exactly what Jiro had done for him. Taking him in the first place, giving him a place to live, offering him anything he needed - not to mention, saving his life.

"Friends are supposed to help one another, aren't they?" Jiro replied with a wide grin.

(Later that day)

The dingy cellar was drenched with darkness and the flickering light bulbs had finally burned out.

Natsuo found himself alone, surrounded by rats scurrying in the corner. Anxiety crept up his spine as he heard his captors' heavy footsteps and their groans echoing off the walls.

He was paralyzed with fear, making his legs refuse to obey his commands as he listened to the menacing growl getting closer. The yakuza moved from the shadows with an eerie, lumbering gait, haunted by deathly stares and decayed faces.

The prisoner could see their vacant, soulless expressions as they gathered around. He tried desperately to move, but couldn't even twitch a finger.

There would be no way out, no rescue, no hope. He would die. He would die. He would die - that was all he could think about.

The undead criminals started tearing off his limbs, sluggishly using their hands and mouths. Natsuo stared in horror as they devoured his flesh, remaining frozen in place, even his mind screamed to escape. Their teeth tore through his skin and blood dripped down their chins as they destroyed his organs, splitting them apart.

He wailed, but a putrid palm clamped firmly to his face, drowning out his weak screams. Fingers dug into his throat, pulling his tongue and ripping it out.

It hurt. It hurt so much. He wanted to die, to end it, to stop suffering. Death was all he prayed for - relief from the torture and an end to his pain. But, his pleas went unanswered, leaving him to lay there as the corpse-like yakuza devoured him bit by bit.

A pair of sharp nails dug into his eyes, gouging them out and causing warm, sticky blood to run down his cheeks. And finally, as the teeth bit into his forehead with immense force, he slipped into oblivion, leaving only silence and darkness behind.

But even after he died, he still felt like a prisoner, held captive by monsters who had taken over his life - and not even death could set him free.

Natsuo snapped back to reality, gasping for air. He looked around the familiar penthouse, seeing that the sun had set, casting a warm glow over the luxurious surroundings.

A moment later, his tattooed housemate walked in wearing an apron.

"Oh, are you up - what's wrong?" Jiro asked, frowning when he saw the other touching his temples and eyelids.

Natsuo's skin was drenched in sweat and his hands trembled as he examined his head. His pallid expression suggested that he had actually been on the verge of death.

"It was... only a dream," he sighed in a low voice, reminding himself that it was just his imagination.

Jiro took off his apron, approached the younger man, and knelt down to meet his gaze. Using the cotton cloth, he patted away the moisture that had gathered on his brow.

"You are safe now. Everything will be okay."

Natsuo stayed silent and focused on the hands that soothed him. His friend's touch made him feel strangely at ease and protected - something he had never experienced before. He allowed himself to take a deep breath and relax, ultimately letting go of the tension that had seized him.

His nose tingled as he caught a whiff of something sweet and inviting, making his stomach growl with hunger.

"Come on, let's eat," Jiro urged as he pulled the other man to his feet, supporting his thin body with one arm.

They headed to the kitchen. Natsuo was surprised to see the dinner table set with all kinds of baked goods, from sweet desserts to savory tarts. Warm cups of hot cocoa were topped with red cherries and whipped cream, while nutmeg and cinnamon filled the air.

"I am not much of a baker, but I did my best," Jiro stated and drew a chair for Natsuo to sit on. He took his seat, amazed at the feast in front of him. Seeing his friend's astonishment, the yakuza smiled.

"I put cherries in everything. I hope you like them."

Natsuo was speechless as his attention darted from one dish to the next - the delicious smells and the comforting atmosphere almost brought him to tears. He couldn't believe his once humiliated classmate had put himself through all that trouble to make him feel better.

"You are really good at this," he said after finding his voice again, not knowing which one to start with.

Jiro grinned cheekily as he sat beside him and moved the plates closer to them.

"Well, cooking helps me get my mind off things, so I like that - and smoking weed. But maybe this is a healthier alternative," he replied as he cut the nearest cake into pieces.

"Perhaps next time we can bake together, if you feel like it," the man added as he served a slice to his housemate.

Natsuo looked up at the other one with a shy smile, whose gentle gaze wiped away all the horrible thoughts running through his head.