Work Text:
"You look like shit."
"What, this?" Kojiro gestures to the bandages crisscrossing his forehead. "Just a precaution. Didn't even get a concussion," he grins proudly.
"Of course not, you'd have to have a brain to injure it." Kojiro's answering laugh turns into a pained grimace, and something in Kaoru's stomach twists. He isn't good at this.
Kojiro is larger than life — a blur of color and the clatter of skateboard wheels. But here, propped up against too many pillows as a weak smile plays across his lips, he looks impossibly small. And Kaoru doesn't know what to do.
Because it's Kojiro who puts everyone at school at ease with his warm laugh. It's Kojiro who knows from the slope of Kaoru's shoulders when the pressure is too much, who can read his nervousness in tension of his fingers. It's Kojiro who is always, unfailingly, there for him. And instead of returning the favor, Kaoru is standing in Kojiro's doorway, trying not to think about his best friend's head hitting the concrete steps with a sharp crack. He swallows hard, and crosses the room to him.
"I told you you couldn't land it." Guilt makes him mean. Because it was his stupid challenge that made Kojiro try it.
"You'll fall on your ass before you make it halfway down," he'd taunted.
"Really? Thinking about my ass again, Kaoru?" the other boy had teased before pointing his board down the slope, a bright smile lighting up his face. And for a moment, it had looked like he was flying.
They've both fallen before, sometimes badly. Skaters wear their scars like badges of honor, and Kaoru is no stranger to broken bones. But he's never seen his best friend crumple unmoving to the ground. Never heard his own voice, edged in panic, calling Kojiro's name as he races to his side.
"Hey," Kojiro's tone is gentle but Kaoru bites his lip-ring between his teeth and refuses to meet his friend's eyes. "Hey, I'm okay." Kojiro's calloused fingers close around his, rub a soothing circle against his hand.
"I'm supposed to be comforting you," he mumbles.
"True," comes the amused reply. Then a sharp tug sends him falling forward onto the bed with an indignant squawk. He huffs the hair out of his eyes, glaring up at Kojiro through a curtain of pink.
"On second thought, I'm going to kill you," he mutters darkly.
"Great, and when you're done with that, you can stop acting like I'm made of glass and pick a damn movie."
Kaoru gives the other boy what he hopes is an icy stare, but doesn't protest when he drags him up from the middle of the bed and into the space at his side. As opening credits of some over-hyped blockbuster flick across the screen, Kojiro nudges his shoulder.
"Hey, thanks. For being here. I know you —" he clears his throat, "anyway, means a lot to me." Kaoru glances up in time to catch something vulnerable in Kojiro's expression, and his heart stutters.
And, yeah, maybe he's not good at this. But for Kojiro, he'll try.
_______
PS: I'd love to try to write for them again, so if you have any requests for future drabbles, maybe leave them in the comments?