Work Text:
Akira chuckled to himself as he kicked open the bathroom door, a fatigued Ryo nearly limp in his arms.
“We haven’t taken a bath together since we were little kids, huh, Ryo?” He tried to keep smiling, even if it twisted sharp like a knife in his gut to see his friend deliriously sick, tea and bile staining the front of his morning robe.
His mother had always told him that. To keep smiling, especially when it hurt the most.
He swallowed thickly, setting the boy down on the toilet lid, slowly undressing him, hands trembling as he felt the steaming skin against his fingers, cold sweat and shallow breaths.
Ryo teetered on the edge of consciousness, eyes unfocused and nearly rolling in his head. In a rush of slowed panic, he reached out to steady himself, hands to Akira’s broad shoulders.
“Yeah, I’m right here, Ryo. It’s okay.” Akira murmured, pulling away the rest of the robe, and standing back up, taking the boy’s hands in his own as he did so. Carefully, he helped him into the lukewarm water of the bath, hugging him gently as they lowered themselves down.
Lustrous aquamarine eyes were fogged over, staring sightlessly for minutes on end as Akira tenderly patted Ryo down with a soft cloth, wiping the sweat from his brow and sick from his lips. He shied away at times, the touch to his oversensitive body registering as pseudo pain.
After a short while, the boy simply leaned forward, top of his head to his friend’s collarbone, chest rising and falling slowly.
Akira let him rest, making sure not to shift too much when he reached out to turn on the radio for some quiet music.
A quarter of an hour passed, and in the meantime, the dark haired boy was content to hum under his breath to each song, occasionally pouring water from cupped hands over his friend’s back.
Ryo took a shuddering breath and finally lifted his head, a little light returning to his eyes as he blinked slowly at Akira. Droplets of water hung like dew to his long lashes, a sight his friend would never forget -- and he felt himself draw closer.
“No, Akira.” Ryo rasped, the first coherent thing he’d said in hours. “I can’t risk you getting this sick if it’s viral.” His dainty brow furrowed, though it took most of his energy just to speak.
Akira tilted his head and leaned in anyways, eyes lowered focus on pale lips before he kissed them.
“I’ve already got it from being this close to you.” He whispered, lingering, breath on breath. “Don’t you remember what I told you yesterday?”
Ryo didn’t have the strength to reprimand at the boy for disobeying him, but the anger still slipped down his cheeks in the form of silent tears. Just let Akira be safe, just this fucking once.
“When I kissed you in the morning, and said Mother always joked about how true love was kissing someone even when they have morning breath?” Akira couldn't help but laugh a little at the thought. “She kissed me when I got sick, and always stayed by my side, even if I was throwing up like hell.”
He bit his lip, and reached up, cradling his friend’s face in his scarred palms, thumbs caressing perfect, rosy cheeks.
“I want to do the same for you. I want to be there for you, even when you’re sick, and gross, and feel completely unlovable.”
Ryo had no way to respond to that, not in this compromised state where emotions came and went like tidal waves, one moment all consuming, the next utterly void of feeling.
So he just cried. Just opened his mouth, jaw taut, and cried. Messily, sloppily, drooling, nose dripping -- but all silently. Akira frowned at how he didn’t make a single noise, save the staggered breathing, but still pulled him into his arms, stroking him lovingly, kissing his temple and whispering to him.
--
They sat together for what was a small eternity to two teenagers, muffled sobs and weak kisses, the comfort of noses pushed to each others neck second to none.
Until mortal worry, until earthly strain, until reality itself had lost its grip on their hearts, and all that remained was the touch of each other, the world beginning and ending all in the perfect, unbroken circle that was their fingers folded together.
“Akira…” Though it hurt his ragged throat, the name alone brought him relief. “I’m sorry…”
His friend puffed a hushed laugh, shaking his head and peppering the boy’s cheek with kisses before he pulled away, deep brown eyes full of warmth.
“Ryo, you’ve done more than enough for me.” He grinned toothily, wiggling his left arm. “You looked around for THIS for God knows how long, just to stick it back on.” He chuckled huskily, his heart lightening at the smile reflected on his best friend’s face.
“Now, c’mon, lemme wash you up. You were always so weird about this kinda thing when we were kids.” Akira smirked, reaching over the side of the tub to get a clean washcloth and some mild body wash. “Didn’t you always insist on wearing your swimsuit when we took baths together after playing with John in the woods?”
Ryo’s face crumpled at the name of his beloved pet, but the real pain came from the truth of Akira’s teasing.
“...” He took a deep breath, and turned his head away.
His friend just laughed, not noticing the sudden change in the boy’s demeanor.
“It’s not like we’re any different…!” He beamed, gently cuffing his shoulder, “I mean…” His muscles relaxed abruptly as he cocked his head, “You aren’t...embarrassed since...you’re like...y’know…”
He swallowed nervously, glancing away, cheeks pink, “...Kinda...small down there, right?” He hastily followed the remark with, “That’s, that’s totally normal, and fine, y’know? I wasn't much different until I fused with--”
“Akira.” Ryo turned cool blue eyes on his hot face.
“S-sorry.” The boy bowed his head in shame.
“No, that wasn’t why I've always tried to...keep you from seeing me...naked.” Ryo said softly, eyes lowered, raven lashes dusting petal pink cheeks. “Why I always made sure to face you if we were undressing together.”
Akira lifted his face, bushy brows furrowed deeply.
“...what do you...what do you mean?”
“Akira…” A meek puff of anxious laughter left the boy’s lungs. “You...didn’t feel it...last night?” He squirmed a bit in place, angel blue eyes averted.
“Felt….felt what?” His friend leaned in, brown eyes awash with determination and confusion. What the hell was Ryo going on about?
The boy gave him a small, shy smile.
“Give me your hand.”
--
Slowly, Ryo guided stiff-with-nerves fingers below the water and between his legs, getting up on his knees.
“Here. This is where we’re different, Akira.” He murmured, tensing instinctively as the tips of his friend’s calloused fingers brushed the slit at his center. “If we’re going to...be intimate with one another...you deserve to know.”
Akira jerked back at the feeling of a slick seam in the plump perineum. He let out a yelp of alarm.
“Ryo! Oh my God!” His eyes widened, and his heart slammed like hell against his chest.
His friend slumped and let go of the hand, eyes dull. He didn't expect such a...generic reaction from his best friend, but gasped as Akira grabbed his shoulders, getting up on his knees as well.
“Does it hurt?! Oh my God, how long’s it been like that? Do you need to go to the doctor? Is it bleeding?” He blurted out, his face pale with panicked worry.
Ryo stared dumbly at him.
He blinked as brown eyes searched blue frantically.
Wait...wait, Akira thought -- Akira thought it was a cut! An injury, a wound!
A sheepish grin curled his lips and he shook his head, laughing quietly, and gently pushed away the hands on his shoulders.
“It doesn’t hurt, Akira. I was born with it. It’s not a wound, it’s…” He swallowed, face falling, “...It’s...an...incomplete…”
He couldn't say it. Couldn't say the word.
It took the idiot a good few seconds to realize what he had ACTUALLY felt.
His face flushed scarlet, but in a way he was just as relieved it wasn't an injury, and didn't hurt.
“...You have...what Miki has?” Akira mumbled, drawing back, clearly embarrassed.
Ryo smiled gently.
“...Somewhat. It’s...not fully formed like a normal woman’s. It’s only a couple inches deep, and the labia surrounding it isn’t mature either.” His voice was soft. Akira hadn't noticed just how soft Ryo’s voice usually was until now.
“...You’re...a transvestite?” The boy ventured quietly, unsure of what to think quite yet. He had always assumed since they looked similar up top, that...they’d be the same down...there too. Or at least, he’d never given it much thought.
Ryo stiffened uncomfortably.
“...I’d rather you not say it like that.” He mumbled, obviously hiding how badly the word stung. “The medical term is ‘intersex.’ When a child is born with...ambivalent genitals.”
Akira sat up straight, eyes overwhelmingly apologetic even before he could manage a single “I’m sorry.”
“...You sure...it doesn’t hurt…?” He asked again, still not convinced.
Ryo laughed a little louder, blushing as he tucked a lock of blonde hair behind his ear, and looked away coyly.
“No, of course not. I barely even notice it.”
Angel blue eyes met tender amber brown.
His heart sunk deep into the pit of his stomach long before the words left his lips.
“...Do you...Do you still love me?” He murmured, already tasting the salt on his tongue from tears yet to come, “...I was always afraid you wouldn't because you thought I was a man, and now that you know more...I’m...I’m scared you'd have loved me more if I had been born a complete woman, like Miki.”
He did not want to confess that aloud, but it rose like bile in his throat, slipped out like a snake, coiling against his adam’s apple and knotting up painfully as the first sniffles caught in his lungs.
Akira stared dumbly at him, utterly speechless at what he had just heard.
He was silent for a long time, unable to tear away his shocked gaze from his friend’s hopeless expression.
“Remember...remember when I asked you if you only liked me now that I was...fused with Amon?” He spoke slowly, the words hitching on the back of his tongue.
Thump, thump, thump went his heart.
Pulsed hard enough to ripple the water.
Thump, thump, thump, echoed Ryo’s heart.
“Remember how you said ‘Akira, you fucking idiot?’ How you told me it was the stupidest shit you’d ever heard in your whole life?”
His voice cracked. Light leaked from the seams.
“God! It was last NIGHT when you told me that…!” Akira inhaled sharply, a hiccup catching in his throat, “And here you are, here you fucking are, saying something just as fucking STUPID back at me!”
Ryo froze.
Thud. Thud. Thud! Went his heart.
Rippled the water, met in the middle, as did their hands, the pain of Akira not knowing his own strength crippling his slender fingers.
“Why do you think that shit would make me feel ANY different about you?!” Akira didn't want to yell, not here. Not when Ryo was sick and hurting, not when he was in Miki’s house. So it came out as a strained, hoarse cry. “Why do you think that would change ANYTHING?!”
He swallowed hard as hot tears slid down his face, teeth grit.
“I don't CARE if you had been born like Miki, or born like me, or NEITHER! What matters is you're my BEST FRIEND, no matter what!” Akira wept, grappling pathetically with the emotions that welled up in his heart, that sung out like a thousand choirs in a duality of hurt and reassurance. “I love you because you're fucking RYO! Not because of what’s in your PANTS!”
Pulse, pulse, IMPULSE, PULSE-PULSE--
And Ryo threw himself into his love’s strong arms, bawling like the day he was born, wet skin slipping and catching on rugged hips as they fell into a desperate embrace.
“...I love you...because you're my best friend. My best friend in the whole wide world.” Akira mumbled through stinging tears and tingling noses and tight throats. “I wouldn't want to love you for any other reason than that, okay?”
Ryo nodded to his neck, letting himself be held in the acceptance he had always dreamed of, but never thought truly existed outside of his own bitter thoughts.
--
The hours of tossing and turning in delirious fits of illness had passed, the hallucinations of nurses and hospital staff had faded. No longer did Ryo lash out and scream for Akira, no longer did he fight off a concerned Miki, medicine in hand.
The boy now stood a little steadier by the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth.
The pair had spent the rest of the afternoon bathing one another, slowly and tenderly rediscovering their bodies with curious, yet gentle hands.
“Did your parents know?” Akira asked, toweling off his hair and stifling a yawn in the crook of his shoulder.
“Of course.” Ryo spat out the toothpaste sardonically.
“...Did they just…” Akira frowned, “Not do anything about it?” He picked up his own toothbrush as his friend rinsed out his mouth.
“They wanted to.” The blonde scoffed, combing out his hair, “But the surgery was much too dangerous for an infant. I’d have died from anesthetic if they did a vulvoplasty.” He shrugged dismissively, “So they didn't.”
He paused at the wide eyed look on Akira’s face.
“I was born with a slight heart condition that resolved by early childhood, that made being put under life threatening. But trust me, they’d have done it given the chance, and probably regretted not trying.” Ryo didn't seem fazed by any of this. Like it was yesterday’s news.
“What would they have even done?!” Akira spat, checking his sharp canines in the mirror out of habit.
Ryo snorted, “I dunno. Sewn it up? Who knows what procedure was back then. But all my life they gave me dirty looks because they knew I wasn't perfect in most basic way possible.” He glanced off to the side, half a grin plastered to his face. “I even had to convince my father I wasn't interested in women simply because I found them ‘distracting’ from my studies.”
“That seemed to satisfy him enough. I was already a walking freak, I can’t imagine being openly gay would have extended my life any longer either.” He let out a cold, bitter laugh. “But who the fuck cares? They’re dead now. And I've come to my own terms with my sex and who I love.”
Akira blinked, beyond stunned at such a….bold and dark statement.
“...Do you really feel that way?” He said softly, bushy brows upturned.
Winter eyes chilled him the bone.
“Yes. To have parents that groomed you to hate yourself with nothing but indifferent words and dismissive looks?” He huffed, and glanced away. “They were once a part of my life. And now they are not. I have no regrets, but I hope they do nothing but, seeing me happy with the man I love, and happy he loves my body like I struggled all my life to do.”
Though it hurt Akira’s heart to hear such things, as the boy could never imagine hating his own parents, who he had loved dearly -- he empathized.
“I understand.” He said quietly.
They looked at one another for quite a while, silent in this new knowledge of each other’s hearts and minds.
--
The pair spent the rest of the day in bed together, cuddling and snoozing on and off, just listening to their hearts beating in time, breaths harmonizing.
Only when Ryo had fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep, did Akira get up, padding into the kitchen to help Miki cook dinner.
“Is he feeling better?” She handed the boy a turnip to slice up. “I was so scared when he tried to kick me away each time I tried to give him medicine. He wouldn't stop yelling about the hospital.”
Akira swallowed harshly.
The hospital.
What had happened there to make Ryo behave so desperately, so fearfully?
He shook the thoughts from his head.
“Yeah. He’s doing much better now, but I wanna make sure he eats some, too.” He let himself smile at the thought of finally being able to coddle his best friend, and Ryo having to just damn well take it.
“At least he’ll eat for you. I think he hates me now or something…” Miki trailed off dismally as she stirred the simmering soup in the pot. “But...I’m glad he’s not as sick as he was this morning.”
Akira blinked.
“...I don't think he hates you at all, Miki. A lot had happened and he's still coming to terms with it all. He lost everything just a month ago.” The boy spoke so softly, as if he were reminding himself. “He appreciates what you do for him, I promise. He’s just bad at...talking to girls.” He chuckled, and received a dismissive grunt in reply.
“Just remind him if I wasn't the one cooking around here, he’d have starved to death.” She ladeled some soup into a bowl and handed it to Akira. “Take this to him.”
“Will do.” He grinned toothily.
--
Ryo slept soundly that night, snuggled deep in Akira’s arms, belly full, and head clear. Though in the coming days he’d struggle with what turned into a mild case of pneumonia, he found constant comfort in his best friend’s gentle words and tender embraces.
However, something did linger. Something that made his back ache. Made it hard to sleep on at night.
No matter, he thought, so long as Akira is what I wake up to, I can endure Hell itself.
Little did the young man know that Heaven’s fire burned much hotter.