By the time Suzaku reaches his door he’s recovered - physically. The pain has gone, his functions are in full control, the adrenaline fear has vanished, not to leave a drained aftermath but to leave bland neutrality behind.

But he doesn’t want to let go, not yet. Once upon a time it would have been C.C cradling him in the secret moments when the consequences of all his cunning plans overwhelmed him. He’s shaken.

But he wriggles his legs to get down and fishes his keys from his pocket, still leaning in close to Suzaku. He’s tucking his face away from the other man - his pride demands he not make eye contact and reveal the worst if his weakness.

None of his roommates are in the common area. It’s a relief - he never wants to be seen by anyone in this state. He heads for the communal shower.

“I…” Thank you? I’m sorry? Don’t follow me? Don’t leave me alone? “Bring me some clothes from my bedroom. Please. Just a simple set.” Suzaku should be able to find him at least a t-shirt and some bottoms in his neatly folded drawers. And because he knows he’s smeared all sorts of fluids on the other man -

“The guest clothes are in the bottom drawer. Come shower as well.”