Archive of Our Own ^beta

"You say you're not gonna fight
‘Cause no one will fight for you
And you think there's not enough love
And no one to give it to
And you're sure you've hurt for so long
You've got nothing left to lose
So you say you're not gonna fight
'Cause no one will fight for you"

(Linkin Park - Robot Boy)

Akaashi Keiji had always been a runner.

From a young age, he had always been the fastest in his age class - which had proven useful when running from mean glares and rough hands. Sometimes they had taken him by surprise, leaving bruises on his arms and rips in his notebooks, but more often than not he had seen it coming and had taken to his heels before anything could happen. To this day, he didn’t really know what had made him such a popular target, but in hindsight, he didn’t really care. He’d gotten away, that was what mattered.

It had been more difficult at home, because in an enclosed space one could only run so far, and the four walls that had been supposed to be a safe space soon turned into his own personal hell. When he had finally gathered the courage to come out and tell his parents that he was gay, his room hadn’t been a destination far enough. That same night, he had packed a bag and done what he had always done best: He ran.

Barely of age, and all alone in a huge, cold city, Keiji had felt so lost like never before in his life, lacking all sense of direction. Maybe that was why the huge billboard had shone so brightly against all the others. It had been simple, really, just a white background and five rings intertwining in the middle, but it had struck home in Keiji’s heart immediately as he remembered his dream that had somehow faded into the background amidst all the pain. The Olympic Games. They were coming to Tokyo.
And right there and then, Keiji had made a decision, one that gave him purpose again, like the bright neon of the billboard was finally shining some light into the darkness that had been his reality for way to long. He wasn’t done yet.

Two years later, and Keiji zipped up his jacket that sported the logo of the Japanese Olympic team on its back. They had arrived at the Olympic Village in Tokyo yesterday, and though he didn’t let it on, Keiji’s nerves were buzzing with excitement. One more day, and he’d finally get the chance to do what he had been training to do ever since he had been a child.
The fact alone that he had come this far had been a sensation in itself. From the very beginning, people had told him to give it up, that he was too young, that all odds were against him since no Japanese athlete had ever won a medal in the 5000 meter race since they had been taken into program back in 1912.
When he made the qualifications, the headlines were tripping over their feet with excitement - and then they blew up completely, when not much later another young Japanese athlete qualified, also for the 5000 meters.

Akaashi Keiji and Semi Eita were both dubbed the prodigy children of the nation, two miracles of the same generation, and there had been quite a commotion in the media. Keiji was familiar with Semi by now, of course, they had trained together and traveled here together with the rest of the team, but it was only acknowledging nods and professional exchanges of curt sentences between them.
Reporters often asked them about one another - apparently there was a general assumption that since their path of success had been so similar, they’d also be friends - but Keiji thought maybe it was exactly the things that made them so similar that made them keep distance.

Keiji didn’t really have friends. After running from home he had struggled with the basic necessities of life, like finding a place to stay, and paying for food, and all the time that was left went into training, so making friends had been very low on his list of priorities, and there it stayed.
Semi had never shown interest in befriending anyone on the team either - he was polite when spoken to, kept things meticulously professional, but he never approached anyone and liked to keep private.
Therefore, though side by side, they both went their own ways, at arm’s length away from each other. It didn’t really bother Keiji.

In fact, he really preferred it over other interactions he had with some other people. Though most of them were professionals in every sense of the word, there were still a few characters on the Japanese team that painfully reminded Keiji of people he had known in his childhood - quick to judge, easy to provoke, and tirelessly sticking their noses in other people’s business. 
They usually left Semi alone - maybe it was because his frown looked pretty intimidating, or that his shoulders were kind of broad for a runner. Sometimes Keiji wished he shared some of these qualities. Despite being a little taller than Semi, he was younger, more slender, and where Semi could probably kill with his resting bitch face, Keiji’s expression only varied from nonchalant to mildly annoyed.
Nothing ever happened straight up front, of course, but there definitely were whispers Keiji tried hard to ignore, alongside shoves that were too hard to be playful and laughter that sounded too harsh to be well-meaning. He had dealt with this before, of course, so he just pushed on and tried not to let it get to him. He had a dream to pursue after all.

They had arrived at the Olympic village two days ago - it hadn’t been a long ride for Keiji, he lived in the outskirts of Tokyo after all - and the opening ceremony was already over. Semi and he had walked alongside the rest of the Japanese athletics team - the two of them were the only ones doing the 5000 meters, but they had other teammates qualified for the marathon as well as for the 20 and 50 kilometer walk. Keiji wasn’t close to any of them, but he sometimes exchanged friendly words with Ikeda and Fujii since they were both around his own age.

He was still in awe about the ceremony. Never in the world could he have imagined what it felt like to walk into that stadium with all the lights and colors and the cheering people in the stands, and if he had needed a last push of motivation, this had been it. He was finally here, and he would make it count, he knew he would.

He put on his shoes and grabbed the keys for his room, stashing them safely in the pocket of his jacket. Some other athletes had gone out for dinner tonight, but he’d much rather just have a quiet evening to wind down and go to sleep early. Tomorrow was the big day, after all, and everything had to be perfect.
He’d take a short walk first to get some fresh air and loosen the tension in his muscles, then he’d come back to heat up the dinner he had made earlier in the day, and finally he’d retreat to his room early enough to get an hour of reading done before heading to bed. Because despite being an Olympic Athlete, Keiji had classes that he needed to pass.

Back in high school, Keiji had always been a hard worker, but if anyone had shown him his schedule for his college years back then, he probably would have told them they were insane.
He took all his classes either really early or very late to fit his training in between, and the rest of the hours that weren’t spent studying, he worked as a bartender and waiter in a restaurant near his apartment to pay for his rent, tuition and food. The one thing he could afford to cut back on was sleep, at least as long as his body allowed it - as an athlete, he couldn’t afford to wear himself down too much after all.
Those years had been hard - hell, they still were, but only being here in this moment was more than worth it.

Keiji breathed in the warm summer air as he stepped out into the streets of the Olympic village. The temperatures had cooled down a bit as the sun had gone down, but the asphalt was still emitting heat as if it had soaked it all up during the day, and he let himself revel in the feeling for a bit. His dream was just one night’s sleep away, closer than it had ever been. 
A small part of his mind started whispering things like what his family might be thinking now that they were seeing him on TV and in the headlines everywhere, but he pushed those thoughts back quickly. He didn’t want to think about them right now, not on an evening as peaceful as this one.

He walked around the village for a bit, watching other athletes from different countries who seemed to have shared his idea of enjoying the warm evening outside. Some were walking alone like him, some had joined together in groups, and Keiji made sure to gave everyone who passed him close enough to see his facial expression an acknowledging nod. He didn’t exchange words with anyone, but he neither needed nor wanted to, so it was all perfectly peaceful.

Until he rounded a corner and saw three people wearing very familiar white-and-red team jackets coming his way. That was just his luck, he thought, to be in a village were hundreds of athletes lived and still to run into the exact people he had hoped not to meet.

They had seen him already, so he couldn’t turn around anymore, and the street here was pretty narrow so that he’d have to pass them closer than he wanted to, but he didn’t have a choice. Maybe they would just throw some comments at him and then be on their way. Tomorrow was a big day for all of them, after all.

But of course Keiji didn’t really believe that, and just as he had expected, their faces were contorting into ugly grins as he got closer.

“Hey,” one of them called, “what a coincidence to meet you here!”

Keiji did his best to keep on walking, and to school his expression into the usual neutral one as not to aggravate them further. “It’s the Olympic village, I guess it makes sense that we’re all here.”

“But we were just talking about you,” the tallest of them said - his name was Mori, Keiji knew - and stepped into his path just before he had the chance to pass.

“Excuse me,” Keiji said, trying desperately to not let his nervousness show, “I have someplace to be.”

“That so?” Mori mused and took a step forward, forcing Keiji to take one back though he cursed himself out for it internally.

These three - Mori, Saitou, and Hara - had been on his case ever since he had joined the team, and it wasn’t exactly a secret that there was bad blood between them, though Keiji never had been too sure why. He hadn’t done anything to provoke them, at least not that he knew of, but he figured they were just the type who felt better about themselves when they put others down. Since Keiji had always kept to himself and didn’t really have friends on the team, he had probably become an easy target, though it mostly had just been off-hand comments and sometimes the occasional shove when nobody was looking, that had been about it. But now, Mori was getting in his face more than he ever had before, and Keiji would be lying if he said it didn’t make him nervous.

“You know, we were out eating right now. Nice little place, good food, nice waitresses, and they had a little TV with the news on,” Mori continued, and it didn’t escape Keiji’s notice that Saitou and Hara were circling him now, cutting off his way back. He forced his breathing to remain steady. It was just the same as always, he told himself, the would make some ugly comments, they would laugh at his expense, and then they would walk off and he could go back to minding his own business. He could take it, he always did.

“That’s why we were talking about you just know,” Saitou leered from where he was standing beside Keiji now, and he turned a little so he could keep an eye on all three of them, though he realized quickly that he had a wall at his back now, and with the way they were closing in on him, there was nowhere left for him to go. “Did you know you were in the news, Keiji-kun?”

Even though he had tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible so he wouldn’t accidentally egg them on further, he couldn’t stop himself from furrowing his brows. What on earth were they on about now? Sure, he had been in the news from time to time lately, but why would they care about that? It wasn’t like they ever had before, unless it was to tell him that he didn’t stand a chance at the games no matter how often he got called a miracle child.

“Or rather said,” Mori continued with that cruel grin, stepping closer once again and Keiji felt his back hit the wall as he tried to dodge, “it was your mommy dearest. But from what she said, she doesn’t even wanna call herself that anymore, does she? At least she didn’t look like it when she told the whole world what kind of a faggot she gave birth to.”

Keiji felt dizzy, as if his mind had been put on a record player and was now frantically spinning in circles. His mother? She hadn’t wanted to be associated with him in years, much less acknowledged his existence and they hadn’t spoken ever since he ran away. What were they talking about?

“Yeah,” Saitou cackled, “seems like they wanted to interview the miracle child’s parents, but turns out his family has turned him out long ago. Not that I blame them.”

“Me neither,” Mori said and stepped closer once again. Keiji’s heart was about to beat out of his chest, and in a desperate attempt to get away he tried breaking out to his right, to run, but Mori’s arm shot out and grabbed him by the collar, slamming him back against the wall with so much force that all the air left his lungs.

“Let me go!” He tried to pull away, but then Hara and Saitou were on him as well, grabbing his arms and pinning them against the wall, and nausea rose in Keiji’s stomach as he realized what kind of position he was in. He pulled against their grip frantically, but there were three of them, and they were all athletes like him.

Mori was leaning in now, his hand still on Keiji’s collar and he pulled him closer, grinning right into his face. “You really thought you could do it? Cheating your way onto an Olympic team, lying to everyone when you were a filthy fag all along? Tell me, did you just join because you enjoyed ogling the other guys in the changing rooms? Olympic athletes must be a nice view for filth like you, huh?”

Despite the fear pumping through every vein in his body, Keiji managed to grind out, “How would I cheat on my running time?”

Judging by the way Mori’s eyes squinted, saying that had been a mistake. He pulled Keiji’s collar again, harshly, and Keiji choked against the material of the jacket digging into his throat.

“Listen here you little shit, I’ll be damned if I let someone as disgusting as you represent our home country. The media is already in an uproar, so why not just drop out while you still can?”

Against his will, tears welled up in Keiji’s eyes though he didn’t really know what stung more, the words or the relentless pressure on his throat. But through all the fear, he could still see the Olympic flags flying in the evening breeze, and even if this was true, even if the whole country hated him now, he couldn’t give this up, he couldn’t. This was his dream, all he had ever worked for, he couldn’t back off now.

“No,” he croaked out and pulled against the other two restraining his arms, tried to kick his legs, anything to get out of there. He just needed to get away, maybe they’d cool off then. He could handle them being disgusted, he could handle them hating him, whatever, all he cared about was running the race tomorrow, hell, even if he was kicked off the team afterwards, as long as he got to run tomorrow, he would be fine.

Mori’s eyes widened a little, as if he hadn’t expected resistance, but then his hold tightened and Keiji’s vision went blurry from the pressure. “Coach will kick you out anyways now that he knows. Save yourself the embarrassment and just drop out, it’s not like you ever stood a chance.”

“No,” Keiji wheezed again and struggled backwards, tried to break the grip on the collar of his jacket, “you can’t make me.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, and then Mori said in a dangerously low voice, “Oh yeah?”

Before Keiji even had the chance to process what he had just said, he was slammed against the wall once again, and just a second later a foot collided with his ankle. Pain erupted from the spot and he yelled, more in surprise than in pain, but a hand covered his mouth and muffled mouth of the scream and Mori leaned in closer.
Keiji couldn’t see his face clearly because tears were swimming in his vision again and blurred the picture, but he still recognized the disgusted sneer on his face.

“You will not wear the flag of the country I love,” Mori growled, “I won’t let you. Disgusting filth like you do not get to represent us.”

Saitou and Hara cackled left and right from Keiji, and then Mori’s food slammed into his ankle again and he screamed into the hand trying to silence him. The pain finally registered in his mind, and gods, it hurt, it hurt so bad. Fuck, how was he going to run tomorrow? It couldn’t be, not his legs, anything but his legs, oh gods please no, it couldn’t be, not when he was so close to his dream, not today, please please please…

When they finally let go of him, he just stumbled backwards. He didn’t cry, he didn’t scream, the tears threatening to spill over never fell, he just scrambled away from the three figures leering at him with hate in their eyes.

He balled his hands into fists, trying to focus on the pain of his fingernails digging into his palms instead of the throbbing ache shooting up his leg.

“Run home,” Mori sneered, “and pack your bags. We don’t want dirt like you here.”

Keiji straightened up. He breathed in. Out. Straightened his back. Then he turned around and walked away. It took all he had to keep the limp to a bare minimum, to ignore the names they were calling after him, and when he was out of their sight he was biting his lip so hard he could taste blood in his mouth, but he forced himself to keep breathing, and to keep walking.

He was fine. He would go back to his room, he would go to bed, and tomorrow he would wake up and the pain would be gone and he would run. All he had to do was make it back to the room without breaking down, but he wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t acknowledge it, because this wasn’t happening. He wouldn’t let it. He couldn’t.

He made it back to the team’s house somehow, walking in some kind of tunnel vision. Breathe. Put one foot in front of the other. Breathe through the pain. In. Out. Left. Right. Only when he walked into the common area did he break out of his daze, because there was someone else there.

Semi looked up from his book when Keiji walked in, and their gazes met for a short moment. Keiji’s mouth didn’t work, he couldn’t get himself to say anything at all, so they just stared at each other until Semi nodded, and Keiji somehow mustered up enough strength to nod back.
Then he turned away and dragged himself towards the stairs, praying that his limp wouldn’t be too visible. The last person he wanted to see him like this was Semi, picture-perfect miracle child, everything that Keiji was, only better.

Semi would probably be able to cater to his fangirls. He would always remain Japan’s star child, the one everyone would be fawning over,, with his stupidly beautiful face and his stupidly good time on the track. Keiji wasn’t special. He was only younger by a year, and their times were roughly the same, so why would anyone want to support him, the reject, the faggot, the boy who wasn’t even wanted by his own family, when they had Semi fucking Eita to compare him to?

When he was at the top of the stairs, he couldn’t hold back his tears anymore. At least he managed to unlock his room, and to drop down onto his bed to sob into his pillow.

He would run tomorrow, he would, and he’d beat Semi, and everyone there, and he would force them to see just how far the worthless reject could go. Even if he had nothing else to hold on to, even though his secret was out and the whole world hated him, he would still run.
He would always, always run.

He didn’t really know how long he just laid there without moving. His tears had dried up by now, and maybe he had started slipping in and out of consciousness for a while, but then there was a knock on his door and he was awake again.

Slowly, he picked himself up from the bed, almost cursing out loud when he put weight on the injured foot and pain shot up all the way to his thigh, but he gritted his teeth and limped over to the door.

When he opened it though, there was nobody there. He blinked a few times until confirming the hallway was indeed empty, and he started to wonder if his head had maybe slammed into the wall a little too hard earlier, but then his gaze dropped to the floor and he saw an icepack sitting there.

He raised an eyebrow, looking up and down the hall again, but it was still empty, so he crouched down - slowly, and only putting weight on his healthy ankle - and picked the pack up. It was fresh out of the freezer, no doubt, but there was no note, nothing.

Frowning, he shut the door again and limped back to his bed. A glance at the clock told him that it wasn’t as late as he had thought it was, even though the sky outside was dark already and he felt as if the whole incident had happened days ago.

He sat down on the bed and pulled up his track pants, revealing a nasty bruise on his ankle that had already swollen up. Biting his lip, he reached out to poke it a bit, and even though it almost made him scream in pain, at least he couldn’t feel a broken bone.
Despite the mysterious appearance of the ice pack, it wasn’t exactly unwelcome, and he gently placed it on his battered joint, slightly hissing through his teeth when the cold material touched the heated skin. It still throbbed, but the cold started numbing the pain out a bit.

His mind felt a little clearer now, and he took a deep breath. It wasn’t that late yet, so he would just get ready for bed, pop a few painkillers, and keep the icepack on his ankle overnight. It wasn’t broken, and maybe the swelling would recede just enough for him to walk without a limp again in the morning. Sure, it would probably hurt like hell, but he could do it, it wasn’t like he had never endured pain before and if he set his mind on something, he’d rather die than give up on it.

He breathed in and out for a few times, then went to the bathroom to change his clothes and brush his teeth. Then he downed two painkillers and strapped the icepack to his ankle with a bandage out of the first aid kit before laying down in bed and plugging the charger into his phone.

He hadn’t looked at it all evening and the battery had eventually died, but he needed it for tomorrow, and also, he had to set the alarm for the next morning. Knowing his teammates, nobody would come to wake him.

The screen lit up, and seconds later notifications started buzzing in. Keiji didn’t bother to look at it for a few moments because it usually took some time for all the notifications to come through when he had had his phone off, but when the buzzing wouldn’t stop, he furrowed his brows and picked it up anyways.

He halted. His phone was flooding with twitter notifications. Sure, he had some followers and he had gained a lot of attention online after officially making the team, but it had never been like this - the buzzing literally wouldn’t stop.

With shaky fingers, he randomly tipped on one of the notifications and the twitter app opened, all while his phone kept buzzing steadily.

@AkaashiKeiji @JNN @vrlygaa that’s just my opinion lol fck off

He was at the end of a long thread, and when he scrolled up, his heart began to sink. It was a full on debate about whether he should still be allowed to run at the Olympics - vrlygaa, whoever that might be, was of the opinion that he absolutely should, while the other user was against the idea of a “disgusting homo” representing Japan.

What really made it difficult for him not to run to the bathroom and hurl up whatever was in his stomach was the video on top which had started the thread in its comment section. It was a news channel, and when he clicked on the video, the first person he saw was his own mother.

The woman who had looked him in the eye years ago and told him that he would burn in hell, and that she’d rather die than raise a gay son. This woman was now talking to a reporter, visibly enraged. They were in front of his old house, and his mother was holding a grocery bag, so the reporter must have waited for someone to show up then.

Are you proud of your son?

Keiji was too stupefied to react in any way as he watched his mother unload all her rage - it wasn’t even the full video, there were cuts in between and some of the words got bleeped out, though he could exactly tell what she had said. He watched her yell on about what a disgrace he was, how she never would have let him continue with this nonsense if he had still lived in her house, though she was thankful he didn’t, and how undeserving her gay son was of wearing the national flag above his heart.

He watched, completely frozen, as the view switched to a newspeaker, underlined with the words “The Name behind the Face: Mother reveals details on personal life of Olympic athlete Akaashi Keiji”. The newspeaker continued on in a monotone voice and the words didn’t register in Keiji’s brain anymore.

He just stared at the screen, watched as the colors blended together and the sounds mixed into one single screech, watched as the video started over and over again, as his mother raged and raged, and he didn’t remember how long it took until he was finally able to reach out to stop the video and fling his phone across the room. From the sound of it, the screen was probably shattered, but he didn’t care. He never wanted to look at that thing ever again.

With shaking hands, he reached for the alarm clock on his nightstand instead and put in the time for the next morning. His mind was completely blank, and his movements were almost robotic as he put the clock back and laid down to pull the covers up all the way to his chin.

He stared up at the ceiling, unmoving. His ankle throbbed against the icepack, and he concentrated on that, trying to ground himself with the pain, but it felt as if he was floating miles above his body. He just laid there and stared up, up, up, and when his alarm clock rang the next morning and he pushed the covers back, he didn’t even know if he had slept or not.

Coach pulled him aside before they even left for the stadium. He was trying really hard to pull off the “I’m not homophobic, but” act, but his words still made it all too clear what he thought of the news, especially when he asked Keiji if he even wanted to participate today. 

Keiji just nodded and didn’t say a word about his ankle, and though it was still hurting he did his best to keep the limp out of his step. They were already trying to keep him from running, he would be damned if he gave them actual reason to.

He also realized that all eyes were on him. He didn’t doubt that every single one of them had seen the video, and though nobody spoke to him directly, he could hear the whispers and he saw the pointed fingers.

Mori was frowning when he saw him in the morning, but he couldn’t do anything in front of the coach, and so he settled for glaring at Keiji and making off-hand comments when coach wasn’t within earshot.

Keiji wished he could say he didn’t care, he was trying really hard not to. But this was what he had been running from all his life, all the time, and now just as he was about to grasp his one dream, it all caught up to him. Couldn’t shit just have waited one day before it hit the fan?
He kept his head low and stayed quiet the entire ride to the stadium. Semi walked past him on the bus, but they didn’t even make eye contact, much less spoke to each other and Keiji was glad about it. Just because they were running in the same event didn’t mean he suddenly wanted to make conversation, especially not now.

They arrived at the stadium, and when Keiji heard the crowd for the first time, every other thought vanished. There was no thoughts about his ankle anymore, no headlines buzzing around in his mind, no side-eyed glances towards him, no Mori, no insults, nothing. The track was the only thing that existed.

Preparations went by in a blur. The pain was still there, of course, but Keiji just refused to acknowledge it, and since his mind was practically blank except for the determination to get onto that track and to win this thing, it wasn’t all that hard to block it all out. His body moved on auto-pilot, he barely registered what he was doing until the cheers from the crowd grew louder and louder and then there were lights and colors everywhere, and he stood on the starting line.

He breathed in and out while continuously counting to ten and back again. If he focused on the numbers, then he didn’t have to notice all the stares, didn’t have to hear the whispers. Even the fact that Semi was right next to him didn’t even fully register in his brain.
Nothing existed in his thoughts, nothing but the loud bang of the starting shot.

He tuned everything out, and he ran.

As his legs carried him forward, it was as if he was running through a void. There was no noise, no lights, no nothing, just him all alone, and the track in front of him. A slight breeze was wafting through the stadium and blowing air into his lungs, and Keiji knew that this was where he belonged. This was his world.

Until a sharp pain shot up his ankle, and the bubble of the void around him burst with a loud bang. All the noise came flooding back in, the colors, the flashes, the voices, and it was all too much, too much sensation mixed with the pain and Keiji’s lungs stuttered as he tried to suck another breath in.

He was far in the front, third place currently, and he didn’t look back, but seeing as the two people in front of him wore different jerseys, Semi was behind him. Keiji couldn’t give up. Every stride was agony, but he gritted his teeth and willed himself to breathe.

Despite everything having happened in kind of a blur, his brain had still registered the laps automatically because when it came to running his mind could function on its own, he didn’t need to think about it twice.
They were on the ninth lap now, meaning there were only three and a half left. He could do this.

By the end of the tenth lap, he was so dizzy that he could barely make out the track in front of him. He had passed the guy in second place not too long ago, though the one in the front was still quite a bit ahead, though there was still enough of a distance left to close in on him and lots could change in the last lap, where everyone would give every last bit of strength they had.

By the eleventh lap, the pain made him so nauseous he was afraid he might end up puking, but he breathed through his nose and pushed through. Maybe he wouldn't be able to stay composed after he had passed the finish line, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care, he simply couldn’t allow himself to right now because if he even thought about puking he might end up doing just that right here and now. Instead, he ran another lap.

The final sprint came, and he poured every last bit of determination into his strides as he pushed his feet against the ground and flew forward. The person in first place came closer and closer, until he was so close he could have reached out and touched him if he had wanted to, and he could do it, he could, he was completely ruined and he was positive some of the liquid running down his face wasn’t just sweat, but so what if he cried, so what if he broke, he would make his dream happen, he would-

It was only meters before the finish line that his body failed him.

He couldn’t hold back the yelp as he felt something in his ankle give, and his gaze tilted from where he had been staring at the back of the jersey of the guy in front of him, tilted downwards to see the ground coming closer with frightening speed and a heartbeat later collided with it painfully.
For the split of a second, he was so shocked that he completely froze up, but then the first runner passed him, and panic settled in.

No. No no no, not now, not here, he was so close, he couldn’t, not like this- he tried to push himself off the ground, but the pain in his ankle almost made him scream, a sob broke past his lips as the agonizing throbbing began to settle in over the initial shock and fuck, fuck it hurt.

And suddenly there was a paramedic by his side, carrying a stretcher, and when he reached out to Keiji to pull him off the track, Keiji couldn’t form any words, just shook his head frantically and kept pushing at the ground because he couldn’t quit, he couldn’t stop now, oh gods please, please-

“I got him.” The voice was quiet, and yet it rang far too loud in Keiji’s ears, and he didn’t really understand what was happening until an arm wrapped around his waist, the other pulling his own arm up to drape it across a broad pair of shoulders and he was pulled to his feet. He screamed into gritted teeth as the aching pain wreaked havoc in his leg, but the person next to him gave him almost no time to recover and tugged him forward.

“Come on, you’re not done!”

Leaning almost all his weight onto the other, Keiji managed to hobble forward on one leg to keep up with the rather fast pace, and his vision was so blurred by the tears that it took him a few meters to recognize the person holding him upright.

“S-Semi?” It came out as a croak, but the other just shook his head.

“Focus!”

He was carrying him. Semi Eita was holding up half his weight, and they were steadily getting closer to the finish line, and the ringing in his ears made it impossible to hear, but there was a faint buzzing as if the crowd was screaming.

By the time they crossed the finish line, Keiji was crying so hard he thought he might pass out, and once he set foot over the line, he would have collapsed again if it wasn’t for Semi catching him.
And then the older boy cradled his face in his hands, wiping the tears away, and before Keiji could even begin to grasp what was happening, they were kissing in front of hundreds of thousands of people, in front of all the cameras, for the whole world to see.

The noise exploded, the lights grew blindingly bright, and Keiji was pretty sure he blacked out right there and then.

Keiji only vaguely remembered what happened after that, his memories of the ride in the ambulance and everything that happened afterwards at the hospital were hazy at best, and he wasn’t sure if he fell asleep or passed out again.

When he woke up, he was in a hospital bed, sunlight was filtering in through the window, and his mind felt a lot clearer again, though it took him a few seconds to really come to his senses. 
One of the first things he noticed was that his foot was in a cast. He couldn’t move his ankle at all like this, but then again, that was probably the entire purpose and he faintly remembered a doctor telling him… something about this. He strained to remember what exactly had been said, but his effort was interrupted by a faint knocking on the door.

“Come in,” he called out, or tried to, but it came out as a croak and his throat was burning, so he reached over to take the glass of water that had been placed on the small table beside the bed.

The door opened, and a familiar shock of ash-blond hair came into view. Semi Eita was dressed in casual clothes - not the Olympic tracksuit Keiji had become so used to seeing him in - and he was holding a bouquet of bright sunflowers that he kept shifting from one hand to the other.

“Um…” he started and stepped closer to the bed, “hi.”

“Hello,” Keiji replied, utterly confused. What on earth was Semi doing here, and- why the flowers?

“Can I sit?” he asked and pointed to the chair next to Keiji’s bed, and though his shoulders were tense, his tone was becoming more confident.

“Oh, um, sure,” Keiji replied and pushed himself off his elbows to sit a little more upright.

“Thanks.” Semi sat down and placed the flowers on the table next to the water glass. “I didn’t really know what kind of flowers you like, but sunflowers are supposed to brighten up dark places, so… anyways, the nurse said she’ll bring a vase later.”

“Thank you?” Though it had been supposed to be a statement, it came out as more of a question. Semi didn’t let it throw him off though.

“How’s the foot?”

“Uh…” Keiji tried to move said body part, to no avail. “I don’t really know. Stiff? I don’t remember what the doctor said, I’m afraid I was pretty out of it.”

“Yeah,” Semi said and scratched the back of his neck, “you were barely responsive after the race. Coach said you sprained it very badly, and some tendons tore from overstraining it. Shit.” He ran a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I should have told someone, I just- I don’t know, I didn’t want to snitch on you and take your opportunity to compete. I thought if it was too bad you’d handle it on your own, but clearly I underestimated your determination.”

Something clicked in Keiji’s brain. “So that was your ice pack. How did you even know?”

Semi looked surprised that he brought that up, of all things. “Well, you were limping a little when you came back yesterday, and shortly after, Mori and his friends came back as well and they… well, they weren’t exactly quiet. I put two and two together.”

“Ah.” He didn’t really want to know what Mori and his friends had been talking about. Shit, he didn’t want to know what they had said after they saw him fail at the race so gloriously. At least he had made it over the finish line, but… yeah. That had happened.

“Why’d you do it?”

He swore he saw a faint blush on Semi’s cheeks. “Do what?”

“Help me out. You were there so quickly, you must have been right behind me, which means you could have placed if you had kept going. You gave up an Olympic medal. Why?”

“I… first of all, that’s a bit exaggerated. I was in fifth place, so when you went down, I had the sliver of a chance to place third, maybe. I didn’t want to keep going, though, not like this.”

“But why? Did it make a difference? I would have dropped out anyways, so what if I placed last now?”

Semi blinked, once, twice. “What… you didn’t look at the results yet, did you?”

“What?” Keiji furrowed his brows. “Why should I?” To see who had won the medals, who had achieved what he had been dreaming of all his life?

But Semi continued, “You didn’t place last, and neither did I. You lost a few seconds when you fell, sure, but we were far enough ahead not to fall back completely. You placed ninth.”

The words rang in Keiji’s ear, loud and clear.

“Ninth?” he repeated. Ninth out of fifteen. “How is that possible?” His fall had felt like it had dragged on for an eternity, but maybe his senses had just been warped - he hadn’t been all too conscious of his surroundings at the time, either way.

“The fall only cost you seconds, and we were almost at the finish line already.”

It wasn’t what he had been dreaming about, it wasn’t a win, not a medal, but… it wasn’t the utter defeat he had expected to face either. He had had a chance. He had fought. Though he hadn’t done it alone, and he still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it.

“So you got eighth place?”

“Uh,” Semi said and ducked his head a little, “no. Tenth, actually.”

Keiji gave him a disbelieving stare. “You’re telling me you gave up a possible podium place and let me pass you, too?”

“It wasn’t like that,” he explained hastily, “I was only focused on getting you to the finish line as fast as possible, I didn’t pay attention to who crossed it first. Your foot just happened to be slightly in front.”

“I can’t believe this.” It kind of felt like a dream, the kind that left you so confused when you woke up that you just had to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for a time to process what in the world your brain had just come up with. Except that this had been real.

Keiji shook his head to clear it out a bit. “You still didn’t tell me why. Why go through all that trouble? You barely even know me.”

“We’ve been on this team together for some time, I know you well enough.”

But that wasn’t true, not entirely. “We don’t even talk that much, and when we do, it’s about training. I can count our conversation topics on one hand and I don’t even know where you live.” 

They were acquaintances at best, they had both worked hard to keep it that way, so why would Semi want to change that now? And then there was that other thing that they were still avoiding, but Keiji was tired of dancing around eggshells.

“You kissed me.”

This time, the blush was very evident on Semi’s pale cheeks and he didn’t meet Keiji’s gaze, though his voice was surprisingly steady when he answered, “I did.” He didn’t offer more explanation than that though.

“Why would you do that? Now they’ll be talking about you, too, the media is going to tear you apart, there’s going to be all kinds of rumors… why?”

Semi sighed and finally faced him. “Don’t you get it? This is why I always stayed private, why I didn’t let anyone on the team too close to me. I was afraid they’d find out.”

Only then did it dawn on Keiji. “You’re gay too?”

The incredulous look Semi was giving him might have been funny in any other situation. “Okay, what part of me kissing you in front of thousands of people did not convey that message correctly?”

“I… don’t know.” He hadn’t thought about what it could mean to Semi, really, he had been far too occupied with his own problems. But that still didn’t explain why Semi would willingly out himself after hiding it all this time.

As if reading his thoughts, Semi continued, “Look, of course I know we’re not particularly close. but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you. And I’m sorry if that kiss was too much, I just thought… you know, I’ve liked you for some time, and I never said anything because I was afraid of the consequences. But suddenly you were out to the entire world without having any say in it, and you still decided to fight, and then you got hurt. It was all just so unfair.” His gaze softened. “I was keeping myself from talking to you, hiding because I was scared, but then you just got thrown into the cold water without a choice. It wasn’t fair, and I couldn’t stand for it, so I decided I needed to step up.”

There was so much to unpack in there, Keiji’s brain had trouble processing it. “So you just thought ‘screw it’ and threw it all in the wind?” For me?

Semi shrugged with one shoulder. “Kind of? I just- you shouldn’t have to fight alone. Nobody should.”

“But why?”

“Because I like you.” His voice was far more quiet now. “And I never got the chance to do anything about it, because I was hiding. I’m tired of hiding who I am, and I thought if I got to stand with you instead of alone, then maybe it wouldn’t be as scary anymore. I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries.”

“It’s okay, I just…” Where did he even start? If his mind had been a mess before, then this was full on pandemonium, there was so much new information and it kept spinning in circles, leaving Keiji with no chance to sort through it in any way. Gods, he was so tired.

“You don’t have to- It doesn’t have to mean anything, if you don’t want to,” Semi added hastily. “I don’t expect you to.”

Keiji shook his head, hands gripping the sheets a little too tightly so that his knuckles turned white, but he knew if he loosened his grip, his hands would shake so badly that he wouldn’t be able to hide it.

“I don’t know.” His throat was closing up again and he could feel his heart rate starting to pick up and fuck, fuck, fuck, not now, please not now. It had been a while since his last panic attack, but he could always recognize the signs, and right now he knew that a full-blown episode was on its way, and he didn’t know how to stop it, he never did, but Semi was still here and fuck, fuck.

His breathing turned shallow and he desperately focused his gaze on his hands, as if that would stop it, as if he could just ignore it.

“Are you alright?” he heard Semi ask, but he couldn’t look up even if he had wanted to, his mind was shutting down and his body followed suit like it always did, it was too late and Keiji wanted to cry. Apparently his anxiety shared that sentiment, because tears welled up and stung hot behind his eyes, just as his throat closed completely and the first seizing of his lungs shook him. A shallow gasp for air brought him no relief, and he curled into himself, wanting to disappear, to dissolve into single atoms and float away.

He faintly heard Semi calling out to him, but his ears were buzzing again and for a split second he was back at the stadium, back on the floor of the track, and Mori was grinning down on him, his face morphing into that of Keiji’s mother, both with the cruel grin on their faces as they watched him fall, and fail. 
His heart shattered right alongside his dreams and another desperate gasp for air made his lungs hurt as there was no oxygen drawing in, he had failed again, he had fucked it all up, and maybe he wanted to stop existing but he didn’t want to die, fuck, he needed to breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t-

A hand settled on his shoulder, gently at first before another arm wrapped around him in a firm grip, and Keiji caved immediately to curl into the touch. So what if he looked pathetic, he just wanted someone to hold him, even if it was just an illusion, even if they’d disappear again, he just didn’t want to be alone anymore, he was so tired of being alone.

Semi was warm, his grip on Keiji tight, and his voice had lost all unsureness as he started whispering soothing things into his ear. “It’s alright. You can let it out, I’m here.”

Another sob shook Keiji’s frame as he fisted his hands into the fabric of Semi’s shirt, and with the tears choking his airway came the anger. Hot tears finally spilled over and soaked Semi’s clothes, but the latter either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he held Keiji even tighter and started to run a hand up and down his back in a soothing manner.

“I- I was so close,” Keiji choked out, “so fucking close.”

“I know,” Semi said, voice calm but with a bitter undertone. “You really were.”

“It’s not fair.” He was gasping for breath now, but the panic was slowly subsiding, replaced by the rage burning in his veins and that ugly, horrible feeling of helplessness. It was over, it was done. “I could have won. I could have.”

“I saw. The whole world did, in fact. You were running on a destroyed ankle, and still you almost took the lead.”

Almost. The word rang so hollow in Keiji’s ears.

“It’s not fair,” he whispered again, but the force was running out of those words, too. The rage died down, and all that was left was the all-absorbing numbness that always followed his panic attacks, leaving him with no strength to move, or think, or care. He slumped against Semi’s frame, wishing he could just stay like this forever.

He couldn’t bring himself to be angry anymore, or disappointed, or outraged. This was what he was used to, after all, getting his hopes up just for the world to royally fuck him over once again. It wasn’t a matter of whether he deserved it, or whether it was fair, and it never came as a surprise anymore, he just needed to accept that defeat like he always had.

This time, it was harder than ever though.

“Hey,” Semi said and nudged him gently, “I know this whole situation is terrible, but it doesn’t mean you have to give up your dream. The whole world saw what you’re capable of.”

Keiji sat back a little, and almost immediately regretted it as the warmth from Semi’s body faded from his skin. They were still sitting on the bed together though, close enough to touch if one of them would just reach out.

“They saw someone who almost made it. It will be forgotten in a few days, there’s nothing for me to hold on to there.”

“I doubt they’ll forget that fast, not with how many headlines we’re making right now.” Keiji winced a little at that, and Semi quickly added, “Sorry, I get if you don’t want to think about that, but- it’s not all bad, you know. We sparked up a new discussion about discrimination in sports, and there’s more people who are showing support than you think. Did you-” he hesitated, “did you ever think about pressing charges? Against Mori, I mean?”

Keiji shook his head. “I didn’t want to before the race, and there’s no sense in it now either. It would only look as if I were petty because I didn’t win.”

“No, it wouldn’t. He hurt you, he should face the consequences.”

At that, Keiji couldn’t keep himself from chuckling humorlessly. “Do you think this was the first time something like that happened? Mori isn’t the only problem here, and dragging him to court won’t stop these people, they’ll never stop. I’ve been fighting them all my life. We simply can’t win against their hate.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“With all due respect, you were closeted all this time. You don’t know what it’s like.”

Semi paused. “I mean… I wasn’t out, publicly, but my family knows. My friends do, too. You’re right, I don’t know what it’s like to have the people I love turn on me, but I think the other way around, you don’t know what it’s like to have people support you.”

Keiji swallowed around the lump in his throat. “How would you know?”

“I just, kinda figured.” He gestured around the room, looking a little uncomfortable, but Keiji knew exactly what he meant. There was nobody and nothing here. No visitors, no get-well wishes, no colorful cards wishing him a speedy recovery, because fact was, Keiji didn’t have friends or family who would bother checking in on him. There was nothing there, save for the sunflowers Semi had brought.

“You’re right, I guess, but why does it matter?”

“Because I think you never had people fight for you, and that’s why you’re not willing to, either.”

“It doesn’t make a difference. Whether I have people with me or not, there’s always going to be hate, and I’m not able to stop that.”

“It does make a difference,” Semi insisted, “because I know how it is to have people support me, and if I imagine losing that kind of support I think I would feel just as lost as you. Maybe we can’t stop all the hate in the world, but at least we’re able to find peace for ourselves.”

The words stung so badly in Keiji’s chest that he had to avert his eyes. “That’s great for you, Semi, and if I were in your position maybe I’d reconsider pressing charges, but fact is, I’m not.” 

He had fought this battle alone for years, and holding Mori responsible for his actions wouldn’t bring him any peace of mind, he knew that. It was more trouble than it was worth, and he didn’t have the energy to push through this.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Semi replied, and his tone was so soft that Keiji looked up again to meet his gaze.

“Get what?”

“I know you were alone all this time, and I know you don’t have anyone you can lean on, but I’m here now, aren’t I?”

The statement rang through Keiji’s mind a few times before it short-circuited, and he didn’t know what to think at all anymore. “What?”

“You don’t have to be alone in this,” Semi said firmly. “Forget about the kiss, and I won’t try to convince you to take legal action against Mori if that’s not what you want, but regardless of if you do it or not, I want to be your friend. If you’ll let me.”

“You… but… why?” Yeah no, coherent sentences were not an option anymore, not with Keiji’s thoughts running amok in his head like this.

“Uh…” Semi replied and rubbed the back of his neck, and with how close they still were Keiji could see the faint blush on his cheeks, “I like you? Ever since we met at training for the first time, and I- uh, I really admire your dedication to things. Like running. And as I said, I was too scared to get close to anyone on the team because I wanted to stay private, otherwise I might have tried to befriend you sooner.”

Keiji cocked his head a little, clearing his mind enough to at least form real sentences again. “You’re not doing this because you think I’m some kind of charity case, are you? Because you don’t have to fix me.”

But Semi shook his head, and his gaze was very sincere as he answered, “I’m not trying to. Even if I believed you needed fixing, which I don’t, I wouldn’t be able to. I’m just… trying to be a friend. And friends are there for each other, right?”

Keiji considered this, he kept turning the thought over and over in his head, but as much as he tried to find a flaw in it, despite the tiny voice in his head yelling that it wasn’t a good idea and that opening up to people would just end up hurting him again… he found himself everything but opposed to this.
Because fact was, he had always liked Semi as well. Keeping their distance had seemed like a necessity back then, and he had been too cautious to even think about changing that, but now… things were different now. And he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him a little hopeful.

So he let the breath clear from his lungs, unclutched his hands from the sheets and let the tension drop from his shoulders. It was a leap of faith, maybe, but he was willing to take it.

His voice was soft when he said, “Thank you for the flowers.”

Semi met his gaze, a little surprised at first, but then a smile spread over his face and he visibly relaxed as well.

“You’re welcome.”

"And you're sure
You've hurt in a way that no one will ever know
But someday
The weight of the world will give you the strength to go
Hold on
The weight of the world will give you the strength to go"

(Linkin Park - Robot Boy)