Chapter Text
“Are you comfortable?”
Eiji nods at Ibe-san, a knot settling in the pit of his stomach as he sinks into his airplane seat. His phone lay like a dead weight in his hands – no calls, no texts. He shoves it back in his jeans’ pocket. He thinks he’ll feel better if he doesn’t look at it again, but every three seconds he succumbs to the temptation. Still no calls, no texts.
His eyes sting. No, don’t cry. He's doing it for you. He wants you to be safe.
“Ash says he can’t wait to see you again!” Sing told him enthusiastically before they got on the plane. Eiji believes Sing. He'll return to America too, as soon as he can get back on his feet again, as soon as he can convince his mother that he’ll be fine on his own. That wouldn’t be too late, would it?
Maybe not, but right now, Eiji needs something. Anything to hold on to – a word, his voice – anything.
He dials Ash’s number. It rings and rings and rings. No answer.
Could he be – could he be in trouble again? What are the chances? Jenkins assured them Ash would be seen as a victim through-and-through at his trial. Eiji swipes down the number pad and taps on another app. It's called Find a Friend. Ash semi-jokingly downloaded it on his phone back when they lived in that apartment. Innocuous in appearance but meddlesome like hell, it linked phone numbers and tracked down their locations.
(“Now, now, we don’t want grandpa to wander off on his own and get lost in NYC, do we?” Ash had laughed to his rage that scares no one. Of course, Ash never let him off his sight. Kong and Bones accompanied Eiji even to the groceries at the ground floor. Eiji never complained; he knew Ash already had a lot on his plate – he didn’t want Ash to fuss over him needlessly.)
The plane hasn’t taken off yet. It takes a while for the app to narrow down Ash. He's at the library.
He received Eiji’s letter, didn’t he? It's too late to board this plane now but would he want to come to Japan in near-future? Did he want to board this one but couldn't reach on time? Should Eiji just get off the plane? He calls on Ash's number again, shifting in discomfort. No answer.
“You okay?”
"Yeah," Eiji blinks. How can he be okay? He imagines Ash reading in the library, a pile of books beside him. Even when Ash was reading scientific journals and stuff, he always had a dog-eared early edition copy of Catcher in the Rye on the side. Eiji flipped through it once – it wasn’t very hard to read, but his English wasn’t advanced enough to hold his attention.
"There was a time I got into a little fight with Ash," he tells Ibe-san, "I went to the library to find him and apologize. It's where Kong told me he goes when he wants to be alone. So, I found him... but it took me a while to go up to him."
Eiji's heart clenches. "He was sitting at a table, reading real quiet. You'd never guess he's involved in gang fights and killing and stuff. But he was... he was so alone."
Like he is, right now.
"That's when I decided," Eiji feels the tears surge, "I would believe in Ash. No matter what. That way, he'd – he'd at least have one person."
He can't do this to Ash. He shouldn't have written a letter in the first place. He needs to have a word, anything. He needs to know Ash is okay.
"...We'll be coming back," Ibe-san comforts him, his voice small, "When you're 100% recovered, we'll come back to see Ash, okay?"
No. No.
No.
No.
The plane begins to move. "I can't breathe," Eiji huffs.
"Ei-chan?"
"I can't breathe," his voice panicky, his arm going around his middle to reach out to his bullet wound, "It hurts, Ibe-san. You've got to land this plane. It hurts, and I can't breathe!"
Eiji feels terribly guilty at the wide-eyed terror on Ibe-san's face. He'd apologize later, he'd do it a thousand times over. But right now, he needs to do this. He needs this wackjob of a last-ditch plan to succeed.
There's a hustle in minutes. The staff has collected at the spot, they're actually reverting the plane – amidst the chaos, Eiji fishes into his duffle bag, finds his deodorant and tucks it in his belt. His sweater is baggy enough to cover it. Just in case he needs more distractions and makeshift weapons.
"Hold on, Ei-chan, we'll get you a doctor," Ibe-san calls out, running a step behind as the staff rushes him through the jet bridge on a wheelchair. Eiji eyes his surroundings. He isn't sure where the medical ward is but as soon as he gets past the security he'll make for the run.
He doesn't know how much his body would take. He can only walk around half an hour before exhausting himself. Outrunning Ibe-san is a far, far cry. Maybe he just needs to not pass out till he gets to a taxi -
Eiji can see the line of vehicles outside. An unexpected bump in the path throws him forth; he barely catches himself but manages to stumble on his feet. God, is his body weak. He hates this so much. “Ei-chan!” Ibe-san reaches out to support him, grabbing his arm.
He turns, his eyes glistening. “I’m sorry, Ibe-san.”
“What -”
He wrenches his arm out of Ibe-san's grasp and breaks into a run. His other hand snakes around the deodorant, but thankfully he doesn’t need it. They are too stunned to act and he uses the moment to escape – so he runs – run, run dammit, he commands his body even as it starts to fail. There are white spots in his vision and his lungs are out of air – how long has he been running and why hasn’t he reached the exit yet? He can do this. He can’t brush off injuries like Ash but he’s still an athlete, he can do this – keep running, Eiji, keep –
He trips over somebody’s luggage and crashes to the floor. The incision on his stomach screams – loud and painful enough to render him immobile for a few good minutes. He crouches into a fetal position, arms wrapped around himself, eyes flooding up with tears. This is it, this is really it – he's alerted the airport security and caused a commotion around himself – all for nothing.
He hears Ibe-san sigh amidst the shuffling of footsteps. Eiji watches him through the blur of his own tears – he looks concerned, perhaps angry. “Ei-chan...”
“I’m sorry,” Eiji sobs, “I’m so sorry, Ibe-san. I just... I just need to see Ash one more time.”
Ibe-san wraps his arms around him. “We need to catch the next flight.”
Eiji's heart sinks. “I know.”
“Well, it’s tomorrow, so meanwhile we can go see Ash, I’d think?”
Eiji’s eyes glimmer with new hope, “Is that okay?”
“I hope so. Do you know where he could be right now?”
Eiji nods. He glances at his phone. The library.
Eiji hurtles out as soon as the taxi comes to a halt. He tries on Ash’s number again, slowly onto suspecting that something was wrong – Ash won’t ignore his call this many times, would he? It's too uncharacteristic, regardless of whether Ash wants to see him again or not. Pain radiates from his wound with every step he takes. He hates how his body is wearing him down the only time it needed not to.
“Slow down, Ei-chan, you’re going to hurt yourself!” Ibe-san catches on to him, but Eiji doesn’t look back. He clings to the railing of the stairs, using his arms to pull himself up even as his legs begin to give out. Why is this so hard? Will he ever be able to walk like a normal person again? He'll think about these questions later, right now he’s almost at the door... Ash -
“Ash!”
His breathless voice ricochets inside the quiet hall of the library. A number of scandalised faces look up at him. Eiji studies through the sea of faces, searching for Ash – his favourite spot is usually quite close to the door, towards the left... God, he dreads this. It has been so many days he hasn’t seen Ash, there’s been so much said and left unsaid, things he thought would be too intimate to pen down – should he just tell him? Ash, Ash, where are you...
He spots Ash sitting in the third row, his head into his arms. Is he sleeping? He rushes up to him.
The letter.
“Ash,” Eiji nudges him, and as soon as he does Ash slumps off the chair. “Ash!” his eyes widen in horror even as he skids to his knees, holding Ash’s limp body. There's blood on Ash’s sweater – it's wet, slick with it – there’s blood on the floor. How come no one noticed? How long has he been bleeding? “Ash!” he cries, tears dribbling down his face – please, please don’t die, not after everything we’ve went through – he pulls off his own sweater and presses it against Ash’s bleeding wound. “Ibe-san, call an ambulance! Hold on, you have to hold on!”
Ash looks deathly pale, his skin cold, clammy. Barely breathing. Yet he never fails to surprise. “Ei.. Eiji?”
Eiji never knew a sentiment like relief could choke him up like this. “A..sh, you’re okay, you’re gonna be okay. I'm here now. You're gonna be fine, you hear me?”
Ash smiles tiredly, “It’s really you.”
Through his tears, Eiji smiles back. “It’s me.” I can’t afford to lose you, Ash.
Please be okay.
The ambulance takes another ten minutes. Eiji realises they are surrounded by a huge crowd at this point. The paramedics cut through the crowd and strap Ash onto a gurney. Eiji rises to his feet to accompany them when his incision throbs in agonising pain. “Ugh,” a muffled cry escapes his throat as he bends over and collapses on Ibe-san. He checks his old wound; there’s no blood but it feels like someone ripped it apart with their bare hands. It hurts so bad. There's chaos, the lights are too bright and the room is spinning – this time he really can’t breathe – there’s a faint “Ei-chan!” but the voice grows more and more distant until everything fades into white. Yet something lingers, nagging at the back of his head.
Ash.