Work Text:
art gifted by WindyEngel
The first time Tadashi coughs up petals, he is frightened but hopeful.
Frightened, because his relationship with Ainosuke has never been worse. Ever since Tadashi stood by wordlessly while Shindou-sama threw the young master’s skateboard into the fire, Ainosuke has treated Tadashi with nothing but cold professionalism and the occasional casual verbal abuse. Tadashi has lost the intimate standing of their youth, when Ainosuke would come to him to whisper his dark secrets and share his fragile joy.
But now they are nineteen and in America, so very far from home and the suffocating scrutiny of the Shindou family. By day, Ainosuke studies at Harvard Business. By night, he challenges his wealthy, over-confident classmates to races and leaves them bleeding.
And Tadashi is always there.
Not at his side, but one step behind and to the right. He isn’t Ainosuke’s peer, after all. Not his friend or his colleague. Tadashi is something far closer than that.
Closer, yet so distant he sometimes feels he may as well be on another planet altogether.
Then one day, he is forced to quietly excuse himself from one of Ainosuke’s lectures when his coughing remains unassuaged by sips of water. He meets Ainosuke’s cold eyes with his own, red and teary from the effort of suppressing the coughs that fight to burst free from Tadashi’s throat, and Ainosuke gives his silent assent with a bored shrug of his broad shoulders before redirecting his attention to the professor.
In the privacy of a nearby restroom, Tadashi collapses over the sinks, hacking so ferociously that he is unsurprised when the taste of coppery blood floods his mouth.
He does not expect the petals that accompany it.
Tadashi stares at the three petals collected in his palm, limp with saliva and blood. Even in their damp and bedraggled state, they are easy to identify. They are the exact shade and size of the red, red roses that bloom on the Shindou estate, one of the few things Ainosuke still loves about his family home.
He folds them carefully in a white handkerchief. An hour later, when Ainosuke finally emerges from his lecture, Tadashi wordlessly offers it to him.
Tadashi is frightened, but he allows himself just a little hope. Ainosuke didn’t have to bring Tadashi to America with him. He could have brought another manservant, if he detested Tadashi so much. That he keeps Tadashi close, despite everything… because of everything… perhaps, there is even the smallest corner in Ainosuke’s heart for Tadashi in it?
Unfolding the handkerchief to reveal its bloody contents, Ainosuke’s eyes widen slightly. He looks to Tadashi for confirmation and Tadashi nods. There is silence for a moment, but Tadashi knows better than to fill it.
“Medical procedures are more expensive here,” Ainosuke says at last, carelessly crumpling the petals and handkerchief and tossing it back to Tadashi. “I will cover the cost, of course. Be grateful, dog.”
They do not discuss it again.
Tadashi takes care of the arrangements. He finds a modest clinic with a good reputation, and days later he is recovering in their private suite.
It is an empty relief, to be bereft of his love for his master.
He looks upon Shindou-san and sees beauty, in the sense that one sees beauty in a diamond or the vibrant blue and green of peacock feathers. It is beauty, but Tadashi is untouched by it.
When he watches Shindou-san tear down a secluded race track with all his devastating power and skill for destruction, Tadashi observes it the way he observes video footage on the American news of the wildfires raging in California.
And when Shinsou-san reprimands him (often) or praises him (rare), Tadashi merely takes note and adjusts his behaviour to better serve his master in the future.
That was the first time Tadashi coughed up petals.
The second time occurs nearly ten years later.
Love, it seems, is like a weed. Pulling it up by the roots is all fine and good, but does not prevent a future seed from sprouting in the fertile soil.
Tadashi wonders when this seed was planted.
Was it when Ainosuke leapt from the helicopter to parachute down to join his former-and-hesitantly-again friends’ rooftop party, laughing like he hasn’t laughed since he was a child?
Was it when Ainosuke changed his mind and saved Tadashi from the scapegoat fate he’d originally planned?
Was it when Ainosuke finally raced against the blue-haired teen he’d become so frighteningly fixated on and in doing so found what Tadashi had thought Ainosuke had lost forever?
Or maybe it was planted mere days after Tadashi’s surgery, the moment he rejoined his master’s presence, because Tadashi was destined to love Ainosuke and no medical procedure could change such a fundamental part of his being.
Whatever the case, it is the morning after the rooftop party that Tadashi wakes up coughing.
This time, when he catches the red, red rose petals in his hands, he is not afraid.
Nor is he hopeful.
Instead, he is simply glad. To Tadashi, it seems as though a miracle has occurred. The love that he thought permanently torn away and discarded has bloomed once more, and this time, he is resolved not to waste this gift.
Tadashi, as he is in all things, is meticulous.
First he makes an extra stop during an errand for Ainosuke. He buys every cough remedy and suppressant he can find - anything that will help Tadashi hide his symptoms for as long as possible.
Then, he takes a likely candidate under his wing. One of his younger cousins, a girl still in highschool and yet has already proven herself to be intelligent, efficient, and above all, discreet. With the approval of the girl and her parents, he begins to tutor her on the odd evenings that Ainosuke releases him early for the day. From his research, Tadashi estimates he has nearly six months before his symptoms become too severe for him to perform his duties.
After all, Tadashi does not want to leave Ainosuke without a competent secretary due to Tadashi’s own selfishness.
Once Tadashi’s plan is underway, he permits himself the luxury of being in love.
It is wonderful.
Tadashi is overcome by such simple things. The wafting scent of Ainosuke’s heady cologne as the man bends in close to examine a graph on Tadashi’s report, the way the dawn light strikes the curve of Ainosuke’s jaw to illuminate the stubble before his morning shave, the goosebumps and shivers elicited when Tadashi unexpectedly hears Ainosuke’s deep, rich voice calling on him.
It’s worth it, Tadashi decides. Worth the increasingly painful coughs that ravage his chest and make sleep unattainable. Every time a petal tickles the back of his throat and the tell-tale taste of blood erupts in his mouth along with the flower’s sweetness, Tadashi is only grateful. Falling back in love with Ainosuke is like breathing again for the first time in a decade, and Tadashi will not lose it again.
He is resolved to see this through.
It is only when he coughs up a whole rosebud a full two months before all resources indicate he was supposed to that Tadashi begins to worry.
His best guess is that it is because this is the second time that this particular love has taken root. Whatever the real reason, Tadashi is forced to adjust his timeline.
From six months, down to three.
After eight weeks, Ainosuke starts asking questions.
“Tadashi,” Ainosuke says, setting down the cup of tea Tadashi had prepared for him, “you are dreadfully pale these days.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ainosuke hums. “It's so awfully stuffy in here. I want to take a walk.”
Tadashi follows behind his master as they meander through the Shindou estate’s impressive rose garden for the first time in so very, very long. The sun is warm, and the roses’ perfume fills the air. It is perfect, and Tadashi savours every moment, but his favorite by far is when Ainosuke looks back at Tadashi over his shoulder and the light strikes the red of Ainosuke’s irises.
For that one moment, as their eyes meet, Tadashi pretends that Ainosuke could love him.
That night, he coughs up a rose head beginning to bloom.
It is two weeks later that Ainosuke turns to Tadashi between meetings with his nose crinkled.
“You smell strange,” Ainosuke comments. “I hope you’re not day drinking. That would be so very naughty of you, pup. Especially not to share.”
Clenching his hand as Tadashi almost reflexively reaches for the bottle of cough syrup tucked in his suit jacket, Tadashi explains, “I seem to have come down with a sore throat lately. My apologies for the offensive odour, sir.”
“Oh? Does my poor sick pup need a day off? I have noticed that your voice is unpleasantly coarse as of late.” Ainosuke teases in that mean way of his, forever the sort of man that would poke a wasp nest with a smile on his face.
Yet another thing Tadashi can’t help loving about his man.
“No sir. I would prefer to continue to work.”
“Really?” Ainosuke purrs, and there’s something dangerous in the gleam of his eyes now. “Even though you’ve been training up a replacement?”
Ice grips Tadashi’s aching chest. He didn’t mean for Ainosuke to find out about that yet.
“I-”
“Planning to go somewhere? Don’t forget who your owner is, Tadashi. You belong to me.”
“...Yes, sir,” Tadashi replies. This, at least, is an easy enough accusation to answer. “Yours forever.”
Ainosuke sniffs, still looking faintly dissatisfied but unsure of what to say. Then it’s time for the next appointment and their strange conversation is left behind.
That night, Tadashi pulls a full red, red rose from his gasping mouth, stem and thorns and all. It is certain, then, that he does not have much time left to him. For the first time since he produced those petals eleven weeks ago, he weeps. He is not ready to die. Tadashi wants to stay with Ainosuke longer. To walk with him, one step behind and to the right.
Once the worst of the tears subside, Tadashi begins to write letters. One to the girl he will recommend as his replacement, and for her he fills page after page, trying to list all those small and yet important details he was unable to teach her. One to his parents, as rarely as he sees them, to tell them he’s grateful for the life they granted him even as short as it turned out to be.
The last letter is for Ainosuke, and it is the shortest.
Dear Ainosuke,
Forgive my casual address - it is the easiest of the many things I will have to beg your forgiveness for. I have been selfish, and withheld an important truth from you for some time now.
If you are reading this, you know what I refer to.
I am sorry I could not face the surgery a second time. Loving you has been a gift that I could not give up for anything - not even for the chance to spend another day in your shadow, as much as I so wish to.
Yours always,
Tadashi
The first two letters he leaves in his desk, but Tadashi tucks Ainosuke’s in his shirt pocket, over his heart.
Later that day, he is standing before Ainosuke’s desk reciting his master’s schedule for the day when Tadashi feels something in his chest twist. He hastily rattles off the remaining agenda items, trying desperately to complete his task even as his eyes begin to water from the cough Tadashi knows he must suppress. Once it starts, it will not end until Tadashi has hacked up what feels like an entire thorny rosebush fighting to free itself from Tadashi’s throat.
“Tadashi?” Ainosuke stands, looking uncharacteristically concerned. “What’s the matter?”
Tadashi abandons the schedule, hastily setting it down on the grand desk between him and Ainosuke.
“Sorry,” Tadashi wheezes, shoulders shaking from the momentous effort of holding back the violent coughs that will very soon rip from him. He turns and makes to flee from the office, but Ainosuke is faster. His long legs swiftly carry him in front of Tadashi, blocking his route to the door.
“Stop!” Ainosuke commands. “Tadashi, wha-”
It is too much. Tadashi cannot stop it any longer.
He falls to his knees, coughing wildly and gasping for air.
“I knew it!” Ainosuke swears, dropping down beside Tadashi and uselessly patting his back. “It’s those fucking flowers again, isn’t it?! Who the fuck is it now? Why haven’t they returned your feelings? Are they stupid? God, Tadashi, tell me you didn’t fall in love with someone stupid.”
Tadashi can’t respond, just continues to choke on the velvet petals and sharp thorns clogging his throat. Blood dribbles from Tadashi’s lips to fall on the exorbitantly expensive carpet, but Ainosuke doesn’t even seem to notice. He continues to ramble frantically, hand now rubbing comforting circles between Tadashi’s shoulders.
“You’re getting the surgery again, that’s all there is to it. Have you already scheduled it? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. We’re going today. Right now. Clear my schedule - Oh, wait. I guess I’ll clear it. Or just not show up. They’re just meaningless appointments. Come on, pup, get up-”
But for the first time in his life, Tadashi cannot obey his master’s commands, because his own body has stopped obeying Tadashi. His air supply has been cut off altogether now. Tadashi slumps to the floor, stars sparking in his dimming vision.
“Shit! I’m calling an ambulance!”
Tadashi can hear Ainosuke continue to swear as he makes the call and then in seconds Ainosuke is explaining the situation to someone on the other end. Through his agony and fading consciousness, Tadashi smiles. How fortunate, that the last thing he hears will be Ainosuke’s voice.
“God fucking damn it, Tadashi!” That beloved voice is nearer, now. “When I find out who caused this, I am going to fucking bury them.”
He keeps saying that sort of thing, Tadashi frowns. How can he not know?
The letter!
With what remains of his strength, Tadashi fumbles for his shirt and Ainosuke immediately helps him, perhaps thinking the starched fabric is part of the blame for Tadashi’s inability to breathe. His nimble fingers happen upon the letter before Tadashi can manage to retrieve it.
“What… what is this, Tadashi?”
My love, Tadashi wants to tell him.
And then his oxygen-starved body knows no more.
When Tadashi wakes he is in a bed very similar to the one he recovered in from his surgery ten years ago. But this time. Ainosuke is sitting at his side.
The man is a wreck, asleep with his head resting atop his crossed arms on Tadashi’s hospital bed. Even though the sun that streams through the window is already high in the sky, there is stubble dusted over Ainosuke’s cheeks, and his sapphire hair is greasy and unwashed.
Tadashi tries to sit up, and it is then he realizes one of his hands is held fast in Ainosuke’s. The movement wakes him, and he is instantly upright, bloodshot eyes scanning Tadashi’s face. They look at one another in silence for some time.
As always, it is Ainosuke who breaks it.
“You,” he says, voice shaky and tight in a way Tadashi has never heard before, “have been a very naughty pup.”
“I-”
“No. Shut up. You don’t get to talk right now, or make decisions, or do anything until I say so!” Ainosuke snaps.
With a deep, shuddering breath, Ainosuke buries his face in his left hand. His right remains firmly grasping Tadashi’s. “You nearly died,” he finally mutters, and it sounds as though he’s crying. That’s what gives Tadashi the courage to speak.
“I fell in love with you again. I didn’t know it was possible. I didn’t want to lose it.”
“So you’d let me lose you?” Ainosuke rages, and his anger is made less intimidating by the tears rolling down his face to drip from his chin. Boldly, Tadashi reaches over to wipe them away.
“I didn’t think anything would be different this time,” Tadashi confesses softly.
“Well, it is,” Ainosuke growls, and he lunges forward and then they’re kissing.
Tadashi has never dared dream of this, so there are no expectations for this kiss to surpass. It simply is.
And it is perfect.
They kiss like men starving, like kissing is the only way to breathe - and for Tadashi, perhaps it is. Are there still flowers in his chest? Surely they haven’t removed them, for Tadashi feels his love for Ainosuke burning in every atom he possesses. Maybe the flowers are wilting, now, retreating to their mysterious source as Ainosuke continues to devour Tadashi whole, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and lapping into his mouth.
Ainosuke only retreats when a nurse clears his throat pointedly from the doorway, and even then it is with great reluctance and a final peck upon Tadashi’s red, swollen lips. He does not let go of Tadashi’s hand.
In the days that pass afterwards, Ainosuke spends each day at Tadashi’s bedside, only returning home to sleep, shower, and change, and only then because Tadashi is no longer in danger. When Tadashi is finally released from the hospital on the fifth day, Ainosuke pulls him in the back seat of the black car that Tadashi usually drives. Someone else is driving it now.
After that, things seem to fall into place on their own. Tadashi continues to serve as Ainosuke’s secretary at his own insistence, but he also continues to train his cousin, at Ainosuke’s insistence. When they retire for the evening, it is to the same bedroom.
Sometimes they walk through the garden together, side by side, surrounded by red, red roses.