Archive of Our Own

Kaoru was nineteen years old when he woke up one morning unable to see.

He’d thought it was a joke, at first. Perhaps one of his three university roommates had put something on his face? Except, his visual impairment wasn’t complete darkness; everything was fuzzy. Kaoru had never needed glasses before in his life, but perhaps this was what people who needed them experienced without aid. 

He then blamed his fuzzy vision on stress. Even after blinking several times and stumbling his way into the bathroom to shower and try to clean the night’s crust from his eyes yielded only slightly improved vision. Stress manifested itself in weird ways all the time, he assured himself. Kaoru had never had this happen to him before, but in the throws of his first round of finals of his second year of college, plus his internship with a nearby calligraphy studio, it wasn’t unbelievable.

For an hour, he perched on the edge of his bunk as his hair air dried while his roommates obliviously snored on, all of them equally tired from several nights of devoted studying. He blinked every ten seconds, waiting, waiting, for his vision to clear. After seventy minutes of no improvement, Kaoru’s anxiety was at an all-time high. 

Finally, when one of his roommates woke up at their alarm, Kaoru kindly asked them, swallowing down all of his panic, to please drive him to the emergency room.

Hours spent, lost to the hospital, and the passage of time only improved his vision slightly. He’d needed to dictate his medical history to his grudgingly voluntary driver because he couldn’t see the forms well enough to fill them out himself. Also, his anxiety was making it difficult to feel anything but numb, and curling his fingers around a pen was an impossible feat with the trembling in his limbs.

When he finally got in to see a doctor, after explaining his condition to a sixth person once more, he was ordered an MRI scan after the generic optic and blood tests came to no decisive conclusion.

The MRI scan showed, after another few hours of waiting (alone; he’d sent his roommate back to campus with apologies for interrupting his studying) for the results, that his optic nerve had become inflamed. Through all of this waiting, his left eye vision had cleared almost completely, but Kaoru’s right eye was still nearly as blurry as it had been ten hours before. The doctor said the left eye had likely just reacted to the damage done to the right and was physically fine and, after another brief eye exam, was then responding as it should. 

To combat the optic neuritis which the doctor, at that point, chalked up to Kaoru’s stress (as he’d predicted), they gave him an IV fluid with corticosteroids to tame down the swelling. He stayed overnight, and Kaoru was monumentally relieved to wake the next morning with nearly perfect vision. A bottle of steroid pills prescribed to take for the next three days to reduce the risk of reswelling rattled in his jacket pocket.

Another bummed ride back to the dorm, and other than a new pair of reading glasses perched on his nose and a decreased dosage of caffeine per day (to lessen the heightened anxiety and thus stress), Kaoru made it through the semester with fantastic grades. 

He nearly forgot about the hospital visit altogether except for when he and Kojiro finally had the time to schedule a video call a few weeks later during Kaoru’s summer break. Of course his best friend’s first comment was, “You a four-eyes now?”

Kaoru reached up and brushed fingertips against the arm of his glasses and cleared his throat to hide his surprise; he’d forgotten he was wearing any. “Problem?”

“Are they a style choice or do you need them?” Kojiro badgered. “I see you took out the lip ring too. Fully embracing the nerd within?”

Kaoru rolled his eyes. “Because of my internship, remember? And yes, I do actually need them. Unlike your muscles,” Kaoru prodded in response. “And you accuse me of making a new ‘style choice’?” He used air quotes.

Kojiro frowned, unfortunately not rising to the bait. “Why do you need glasses now?”

Kaoru hadn’t told Kojiro about his overnight hospital stay and he had no intention of doing so then. “Some of us have to read and educate ourselves with words for our careers. How many books have you read for culinary school?”

“Multiple!” Kojiro shouted, and Kaoru knew he’d successfully skirted around Kojiro’s prodding. Usually it was nice to know, even thousands of kilometers away, that Kojiro still cared about Kaoru’s wellbeing. 

But caring and being able to do anything about it were two separate things, and there was no need to worry Kojiro (or anyone else) with his stress-induced optical damage.

“Cookbooks don’t count,” Kaoru sang, and that sent Kojiro off on a shockingly passionate rant that was cut off by his host sister chastising him in Italian-accented English (not Kaoru’s strong suit on a good day, but he knew enough to know Kojiro was being chided) to keep his voice down due to the hour.

“Get some sleep you mountain of a man,” Kaoru demanded after allowing the call to go on for another hour than he should have, noting the flagging of Kojiro’s eyelids.

Kojiro smirked, though its triumph was smothered a second later by a jaw-cracking yawn. It was nearly three in the morning in Italy. “That’s what the ladies call me.”

Kaoru snapped his laptop closed to end the call before he could hear Kojiro’s tired and high-pitched giggling.

And that was that. Every two weeks or so, Kaoru and Kojiro would schedule around their classes and work to talk for a few hours and stay up-to-date on each other’s lives. Kaoru threw himself into the new semester and devoted most of his evening hours to apprenticing with the local calligrapher he’d interned with the previous semester.  

If on some mornings, Kaoru woke up with blurry vision far worse than the day before, he made a mental note to relax that evening and stumbled around until he could pretend the fog had dispersed enough to ignore. If he met with an optometrist and had himself fitted for glasses that balanced his new right-eye vision with his left, he accepted the case without argument and took the gentle ribbing from his roommates with civility and asked them if they would pay for his contacts instead. 

If, one afternoon at the studio, he spent more time massaging feeling back into his numb hand than actually fulfilling commissions, he didn’t tell it to Kojiro when he called the next day, even though his hand still didn’t feel right and he’d struggled to open his laptop.

At the end of the chat, Kaoru adjusted his glasses, worked out his fingers, and called his primary care physician. His doctor scheduled another MRI for the end of the week, but specified that if Kaoru’s symptoms worsened in the days in between now and then to go to the emergency room.

Kaoru didn’t have the time or energy for this; it was nearly time for midterms already, but if there was something wrong with his hands, there would be issues with his career (calligraphy and coding), and he wanted to nip that in the bud as soon as humanly possible.

The test results for his second MRI weren’t as immediate to be disseminated by a technician because he wasn’t considered an emergency or rush case that day. So it wasn’t until four days later that he left class and found a missed call and voicemail from his doctor urging him to call back at his earliest opportunity.

Hands shaking, this time from nerves, Kaoru spent his lunch break being talked through what the next several weeks and months of his life would look like while juggling classes and work.

“We have to run a series of tests to determine why your nervous system is experiencing these attacks,” his doctor explained. “Because both your optic nerve and your spine have sustained swelling damage, and because those are separate sections of the central nervous system, it is unlikely this is an isolated incident. We want to be sure we have all of our ducks in a row before we chart a course for diagnosis and treatment.”

The multiple metaphors aside, Kaoru’s annoyance was not with the doctor, but with his body. Of course now, during the most important years of his life, would be when it decided to tangle up his nerves and spine. Still, the doctor assured him that he was young and healthy in all other respects, and finding issues like these within the nervous system at a younger age always made treatment more effective because it began sooner.

It was not much for Kaoru to find comfort in, but it was all he had. Finding a diagnosis for his issues meant he would find a fix. And one thing Kaoru knew he was good at was finding solutions to problems. He was a master at fixing bugs and improving upon them in coding, and his current passion project of an artificial intelligence device of his own creation was about 40% complete. Kaoru wasn’t prepared to give up there, no matter the challenges he might face in the remaining 60%.

For the next few months, Kaoru was in and out of the hospital. His roommates’ concerned looks deepened in severity every time Kaoru came back lightheaded from drawn blood or, once, dry heaving over the toilet because the goop of radiation chemicals they’d had him swallow so they could conduct a full-body scan to see if it lit up inside of him anywhere had lingered on his tongue and the taste was vile.

Kaoru wasn’t particularly close to any of his roommates. Their concern was kind but bordering on suffocating. Despite this, Kaoru knew that with his current condition up in the air, it would be unwise to move out and live by himself. They were great to study with, were quiet and courteous, and honestly Kaoru wasn’t a fan of silent apartments. He’d grown up with that and had been happy to leave it behind when he started college.

He debated telling Kojiro on one of his weaker days, but he stilled his tongue and deleted the message before he found the courage to press send. 

Thanks to documentation from his doctor, Kaoru was able to make up any classes or work that he missed due to his examinations, though he rarely took the opportunity to slack off. When he did, it was to save energy so that he could give his all to his apprenticeship. He didn’t want to lose that job. He was making great connections there, and his personally-assigned hand exercises had helped the occasional numbness of his hands so his work was never lacking.

When the diagnosis was delivered to Kaoru two weeks before his March 27th birthday and a week after his last final exam of year two (what a gift), he was not surprised when his doctor sat across from him in their office and didn’t mince words. 

“After ruling out all of the other options we might be dealing with here, the neurology team and I have concluded that your symptoms are concurrent with a neurological disease called multiple sclerosis. And the type that you have is called relapsing-remitting. This is a disease more commonly found in the west, but it is not unheard of here so you don’t have to worry about getting good treatment. It is rarely genetic, which is why we had to go through so many different tests to determine that this wasn’t something else. But we are pretty sure.”

The answer was not completely surprising to Kaoru, but the gut-punch of the doctor’s words didn’t hit any softer.

The doctor explained to Kaoru, who listened with nearly all of his attention, the different ways that multiple sclerosis, often shortened to MS, presented itself. His was the most common presentation, though there were nearly three times as many women than men who experienced relapsing-remitting. It was more common for men to experience primary progressive MS, but the neurology department had determined, due to the attacks Kaoru experienced and the “remission” his body fell into after the attacks ceased where his body went back to almost normal, that that did not match his situation. Though, secondary progressive MS, the third way MS presented itself in people, was usually what RRMS evolved into between ten and twenty-five years after first diagnosis.

The doctor wisely didn’t give Kaoru all of the scary details of that evolution at the risk of making his head spin any further, though Kaoru knew he would be doing as much research as he could as soon as he got back to his dorm. He’d already had RRMS noted as a possible diagnosis after one weak evening inputting all of his symptoms into Google and making a list of all possible outcomes. He was not a stranger anymore to medical research.

There were treatments available, his doctor assured, as well as new medicines being developed and tested every day, and they wanted to get him set up with a neurologist immediately who would prescribe medication to help limit the attacks, or at least slow their progression.

But there was no cure for multiple sclerosis. 

Kaoru’s body would continue to betray him, gnawing away at his nervous system up his spine and maybe someday into his brain to slow every single part of him. The weakening of his hand strength and eyesight was just the beginning, especially if Kaoru’s diagnosis changed from RRMS to secondary progressive sooner than twenty-five years. 

Remission meant stopping. Progression, even secondary, meant ongoing. Forever. 

He could beat the odds, but Kaoru knew that likelihood was slim to none. His case seemed to be pretty standard; no frills, no crazy side effects. This was not a glass ceiling he could shatter.

Due to the timing, Kaoru could also no longer hide this from Kojiro, considering Kojiro had taken the trip home to Okinawa from Italy for the first time since he left, for his sister’s and Kaoru’s birthdays (30th and 20th respectively). Kojiro was in his family house at that exact moment, expecting to see Kaoru in two days for family dinner and then a secret night at S which Kojiro had been apparently desperately missing. 

Would his legs grow weak as well, Kaoru wondered? Would he have to stop skateboarding? More importantly, how much longer would he be able to walk?

Thinking such spiraling thoughts was not something Kaoru ever allowed himself to do. He had to focus on his present, on his studying, on his current work. The future was something to work hard now for, not to dwell on its multitude of possibilities. Laying a good base now will set his future up for success without needing to plan for it.

He allowed himself that one night of spiraling, though. It would be worse for him, he suspected, to bottle up all of his emotions. He would never be able to put on a brave face in front of anyone, doctors included, lest he not come to terms with the mental toil of his diagnosis. He checked himself into a love hotel, the easiest way to guarantee privacy for college students, and cried. He thought about calling his parents and then didn’t. He almost called Kojiro, but didn’t make the final button press. He took advantage of the bath and the scented oils and pampered his skin, massaging his muscles and playing soft music from the speakers built-in to the walls as he relaxed into the water’s warm embrace. 

Then, wrapped in a fake silk robe and a towel encasing his wet hair, Kaoru sat in the middle of the bed and made a list. In this case alone, he decided, considering all eventualities and planning for them ahead of time was the right move. 

He paid for the room’s usage for three hours, and when those hours ended, he washed his face in the sink to remove dried tear tracks before he left.

The first step in his plan was to ensure that he had a support system. He had already been assigned a neurologist he was scheduled to meet the following week for a first appointment who would assess Kaoru’s case and assign a treatment plan. But he couldn’t just rely on doctors for everyday problems. At his current stage, he could probably go at least a decade before anyone would notice, but it wouldn’t be that way forever. Ensuring he had support from his employer and his family was key. He didn’t yet have an employer, as he’d been hoping to start a business of his own after graduation, but it was something to keep in mind as he began his third year of college. 

He was going to tell Kojiro. He wouldn’t be able to hide it, he suspected, despite the fact that Kaoru knew he was amazing at hiding secrets (S, for one. His sexuality, for another.). He had never found it necessary to lie to Kojiro before, that wasn’t how they were, and he didn’t feel the need to test that now.

But Kojiro didn’t live in Okinawa. He couldn’t give physical and emotional support at that time. Knowing Kojiro’s family, they might try to make up for it, but Kaoru did have his own family he was supposed to depend upon first.

They might not give him the emotional support he needed, but at least his mother would drive him to appointments if he needed her to. From the discussion Kaoru had had with his doctor, some treatment options would be infusions every few months that would initially leave him weakened, because the medicine to slow the disease’s progression compromised the immune system to achieve it, so Kaoru expected he wouldn’t be able to just handle those by himself. He needed at least one present person.

Kojiro wasn’t present. And it would be monumentally unfair of Kaoru to wish, for even a second, that he could be. No matter how much he wanted to, for even a second, be selfish.

His roommates said nothing when he returned an hour after the dorm was supposed to be closed for the night, Kaoru having sweet-talked the building’s supervisor into letting him back in. They’d all done so one time or another and respected each other’s privacy. But Kaoru couldn’t help the slight stab of disappointment when his entrance was ignored.

It was similar to the expected but still painful feeling he felt showing up to his parents’ house to tell them of his diagnosis and them only having ten minutes to speak with him before they were needed at an event of some kind.

They took his news with the same kind of stilted acknowledgement he’d received when passing off report cards or college acceptance news. They promised to help him if he needed it, though they assured Kaoru they knew he was a very capable man. Yes, because he felt very capable at that moment, he sarcastically thought to himself.

Nevertheless, he got what he came for. 

Telling Kojiro wasn’t so simple. 

Kaoru wasn’t in much of a celebratory mood when he arrived at the Nanjo home a day later, a bottle of wine stolen from his parents’ house in one hand and a gift bag full of treats purchased from a local favorite bakery in the other. Without knocking, Kojiro threw open the door and greeted Kaoru with a wide smile. 

With all of the drama of the last few days, Kaoru had completely forgotten that this would be his first time seeing Kojiro in two years and that to do so, he would need to prepare (his heart) himself. He hadn’t done that. 

Kojiro with his new bulk seemed two sizes larger, a large striped shirt half unbuttoned hanging off of his shoulders. His hair was longer and tied back at the nape of his neck, the ends of thick green strands peeking over his shoulder. Kaoru wondered if he looked so much older to Kojiro, but besides taking out his piercings, Kaoru hadn’t undergone any physical changes. 

A moment of silence passed where neither of them said or did anything. Kaoru, frozen on the front stoop, stared across at Kojiro whose smile started to slip and his expression changed to one of curiosity and concern. 

“Hi. Kaoru,” Kojiro voiced, and the call of his name snapped Kaoru out of his thoughts. 

“I need to talk to you,” he said first, then shook his head, instantly regretting being so blunt. “I brought wine and pastries for your family. It’s good to see you made it successfully back into the country,” he tried again, though there was no taking back his ominous blurted statement. 

Kojiro looked more amused than concerned as he ushered Kaoru inside and placed a pair of guest slippers onto the floor in front of him. “Surprisingly my Japanese passport does allow me entrance to Japan. Kaoru, are you—?”

“An obvious oversight,” Kaoru spoke over him with a haughty sniff. “I didn’t think giant animals like you could fly economy.”

Kaoru hastened into the house and sought out the first Nanjo family member other than Kojiro to hide behind and escape any kind of prodding from his best friend. Kaoru would get there, he just needed to get over his shock of having Kojiro within reach for a scant few weeks only. 

Kaoru was becoming someone who focused on the present and the future. The trials clearly started immediately. 

Kojiro’s aging parents and his two older sisters were all hovering around the island in the kitchen and Kaoru quickened his pace, and he was quickly snatched up into hugs and compliments and gratitudes. It was twenty minutes of chatter before Kojiro saw his chance and extradited Kaoru from the chaos, using an obvious lie that he had something he needed to give Kaoru as a means to get him alone. 

It was an obvious lie to Kaoru, anyway, because of the weighty stare he was being subjected to. 

Standing in Kojiro’s childhood bedroom for the first time in years was momentarily disorienting, but no more disorienting than Kojiro’s forced movement of Kaoru’s body. Kaoru slapped Kojiro’s hands away from him and the grip was finally released once the door was closed behind them. 

“I am not an animal you can just handle, Kojiro,” Kaoru snapped. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” 

At least he sounded sincere. Kaoru assessed the other man, and he regretted to inform himself that the unfortunate attraction he’d held for Kojiro was still alive and well despite the physical changes he’d undergone over the two-year absence. (Physical attraction, that was. Emotional had never been under review,)  Of course their video chats had well documented the changes, but it was another thing to see it all in person. 

“So what is it?”

“What is what?” Kaoru stalled. 

“Kaoru.” Kojiro frowned. He took a seat in his desk chair and scrunched his nose up at the state of his dusty desk. Had he just noticed it? Hadn’t he been home for a few days now? Maybe he’d been sleeping off the jet lag the entire time. 

Kaoru perched himself on Kojiro’s unmade bed, the more comfortable of the two options. 

The single statement of his name held the burden of many words, Kaoru knew. What do you have to tell me? Why are you avoiding saying anything? You’re not someone to mince words, so what happened?

“I’ve been undergoing some tests recently,” Kaoru began. 

“Your finals?” Kojiro questioned. “You got your results already, right?”

“Not school exams.” Kaoru took a deep breath. “Medical exams.”

Kojiro’s face went from bemused to stone cold in an instant. Kaoru swallowed and averted his gaze across the room. The closet door was cracked open. He could see the truck and wheel of a long-forgotten skateboard peeking out.

Rather than wait for Kojiro to ask probing questions, Kaoru launched into a purely factual story, starting from his first attack, as it was medically considered, all through the months of shrugging it off that led to the months of testing and finally to his official diagnosis. He did so all without looking at Kojiro, which might have made him a coward if he didn’t know Kojiro was someone who cared far too much. He wouldn’t want Kaoru to see the different emotions as they played across his face throughout the story. 

After a long minute of silence, Kojiro exhaled heavily and Kaoru heard the squealing of the desk chair’s wheels as Kojiro likely stood. His suspicions were confirmed when Kaoru felt a dip on the bed next to him. “Okay.”

“You understand?” Kaoru confirmed, still keeping his gaze on his hands. 

“For the most part, yes. Some of the names kind of went over my head but…” He could hear Kojiro shrug, his cheap cotton button-up (still primarily unbuttoned, so apparently it was a style choice) with its rough texture rubbing together. 

“Good.”

“How…” Kojiro shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable for one reason or another. “How can I help?”

Kaoru finally met Kojiro’s eyes. That was a question he’d planned the answer for and he was glad it had been one of the first asked. “The main thing I need from you is normalcy,” he recited. 

Kojiro’s eyebrows furrowed, his confusion clear. 

“I need you, Kojiro, to act like nothing is different. Not just today in front of your family, but always.” Kaoru adjusted his glasses, and Kojiro’s gaze snapped to the movement immediately, eyes widening a pinch as he probably connected them to the real reason they existed. “Right now, my condition is stable and the only things to be done by anyone will be done by doctors and medicine. There’s not even much for me to do, really.” Kaoru swallowed thickly. “That won’t always be the case. But until that time comes, twenty years from now, what I really need is just my best friend to just be my best friend.”

“But—”

Expecting the initial opposition, Kaoru forged on. “I don’t have a broken leg, Kojiro. I don’t have cancer. This isn’t an ‘all at once for a certain amount of time’ situation. There is nothing for your brute strength,” he lightly punched Kojiro’s arm, “to put together or fix. This diagnosis is just going to be a part of me. For the rest of my life. And I’m lucky,” he assured Kojiro, “that we caught this now because anything that will in the future need to be fixed or strong-armed into submission I can plan for in advance.”

“You hate planning,” Kojiro argued, a look of surprise crossing his expression. 

Kaoru snorted a laugh. “Yes, well. I gave myself, uh, a day to come to terms with that. Our twenties are our formative years to change our perspectives anyway.” He cleared his throat. 

“Must have been tough for you,” Kojiro tried to joke, but the serious nature of the conversation had the sentence take on a double meaning. Kaoru had to clear his throat a second time. 

As he’d said, he’d already had his day to come to terms with it. He had accepted it, mostly, and it didn’t realistically matter if he had or not. This was his life and he had to deal with it, so forcing out thoughts of unfairness or the rare flash of fear was the necessary move. 

“We all must learn and grow,“ Kaoru said, attempting his own joke. “Some of us growing more than learning,” he added, flicking a finger up and down to indicate Kojiro’s…everything. 

Kojiro rolled his thankfully dry eyes. Kaoru was relieved. “Culinary school is still school.”

“And how much Italian have you learned after two years in the country?” Kaoru asked, tilting his body so that he faced Kojiro. He quirked an eyebrow and smirked. 

Kojiro scoffed and shoved Kaoru’s shoulder. “Enough! Just because I don’t show it off to you doesn’t mean it’s a skill I don’t have. And I like learning it, too.” Kojiro gasped dramatically.

So Kojiro had said before, but each time it was still surprising to Kaoru. He supposed languages were a natural divide between knowledge that was fun and interesting to have and knowledge that was gleaned for knowledge’s sake. Kojiro had always been interested in learning only how to do, and that reflected on his high school test scores. Though as much as Kaoru liked to tease him about that, he knew (and Kojiro knew that he knew) that Kojiro had his smarts in other factions. 

“Sure,” Kaoru placated him with a double pat on the shoulder. 

You like the language. How do you feel about the country? That was one question Kaoru had never found the courage to ask, even in jest. 

Today was also not that day. 

They had birthdays to celebrate, one of which was his, and S to attend that evening. They had successfully avoided an overly emotional conversation stemming from his diagnosis confession, and Kaoru wanted to grip that good luck and keep hold of it for the rest of the day. 

Kaoru stood and Kojiro followed a second later, a wary look on his face like he wasn’t sure what Kaoru was going to do. 

Kaoru said, “We can continue this conversation with the rest of your family. It’s always better to poke fun at you with those who know you best.”

Kojiro groaned, and Kaoru headed for the door, running a hand over his mouth to smother his relieved smile. Kojiro was acting the part. The man would need some time of his own to fully digest Kaoru’s news, but he respected Kaoru’s wishes and was acting as normally as ever. 

A hand curled around his wrist before he could leave the room. “You will let me know, though?” Kojiro asked. 

“Hm?” Kaoru glanced over his shoulder as Kojiro dropped his hand. 

Kojiro looked hesitant but ultimately decided to explain, “When you do need someone to strong-arm stuff for you. In twenty years or whenever. You’ll let me do that?”

Kaoru plastered on a smirk. “Please, Kojiro. I am a planner now. Before you even think to think it I will have it already done.”

“Kaoru.” Kojiro’s call was a demand for an actual answer, and Kaoru was still feeling vulnerable enough to comply. Not that he ever planned on lying to Kojiro. 

Kaoru ducked his head. “Yes, Kojiro. If you can tear yourself away from your precious Italian cuisine.”

Without giving Kojiro another moment to think of other belated questions he wanted to ask, Kaoru escaped the bedroom, raising complaints to the Nanjo family that Kojiro had stolen him away for far too long. 

Three minutes later (yes, Kaoru counted), Kojiro rejoined them. And though his smile looked forced, as the evening progressed, he began to relax and he and Kaoru continued their usual bantering. And when they snuck out to head to Crazy Rock at a quarter to midnight like they were back in high school, shushing each other as they snagged their boards and quietly closed the front door behind them, it was like the events earlier on in the day hadn’t even happened. 

The few weeks that Kojiro was in town came to an end right before Kaoru’s third year began on the first of April. His birthday was spent with classmates who wanted one last hoorah before the semester began and could use his invite for drinks as an excuse. Kaoru wasn’t offended, however. He would have done the same. He was glad to spend the night with good people, a tipsy Kojiro plastered against his side, slurring Italian phrases at him as an insistence that he knew the language. 

“I can plan too, yanno?” Kojiro insisted as an also tipsy, but less messy Kaoru walked them from the station to the Nanjo home where they would both be spending the night. 

“Oh really?”

Kojiro hummed and then yanked on Kaoru’s ponytail, earning him a cheek smack. “I do, and don’t slap me!”

“That was hardly a slap.”

“Let me talk, Cherry,” Kojiro whined. 

The two took a breathing break under the awning of a closed shop, pressing their backs against the wooden façade. 

“I made a plan years before you started to,” Kojiro continued. He held up one hand and began ticking off on his fingers. “I wanted to go to culinary school in a different country. And then work there for a year at least in a restaurant to get pa-practical experience. Then I wanted to save up money working somewhere either in Japan or elsewhere. And then I’d open my own restaurant!” 

“That’s not a plan, JOE. That’s goals.”

“Plans come from goals!” Kojiro protested, leaning in close to Kaoru’s space. “I’m like half done with the list almost. I start work in a few months and then I’ll come back to Japan with my savings! That’s a plan.”

“Not a plan. Plans are concrete.”

“So what’s your grand plan, then, O Plan Master?” Kojiro teased, bumping their shoulders together. 

Kaoru scrambled for his phone. “I wrote mine down.”

“How professional,” Kojiro muttered, peering with squinted eyes as Kaoru’s phone screen illuminated and blinded them temporarily. He lazily scrolled until his notes app appeared in his backlog of apps and clicked. 

Kaoru recited, “Graduate college with a concentration in computer science. Get a loan from my parents to buy a house. Details of house listed below. Complete my three-year apprenticeship at the calligraphy studio. In the six months doing so between college and the end of my apprenticeship, take commissions on my own to start my own calligraphy business while completing my AI. Name is still pending, but I think she’s a woman.”

“Wait, what?”

Ignoring the interruption, Kaoru continued reading. “Within the first three years of business, establish either in my home or in a separate location a place for classes to increase income. Develop AI—Name Pending—to assist in calligraphy commissions and revolutionize the world by combining both art and science. Visit Europe.”

Kaoru took a deep breath when he finished. 

Kojiro blinked very slowly. “Wow. What about S?”

“What about S?” Kaoru snapped, locking his phone and plunging them both back into darkness. “Obviously I’ll still go.”

Kojiro’s grin was dumb and adorable. “Oh, good.”

“Are you really going to come back to Japan?” Kaoru asked, feeling sober enough to know it was a question he wanted an answer to but drunk enough that he had the courage to ask. 

“I said I would, dumb Cherry,” Kojiro replied and then tugged them back out into the street. “Your plan is a good plan. Read it to me again when I can remember it.”

Kaoru snorted and laughed into Kojiro’s shoulder. “Sure. Just don’t copy it like you did my school notes.”

“You can’t stop me!” Kojiro sang, voice echoing into the dark night, and Kaoru was just tipsy enough to get away with slapping Kojiro’s cheek again. 

The next thing Kaoru remembered, he was waking up alone on the Nanjos’ spare futon in Kojiro’s childhood bedroom with an unopened birthday card next to him and the smell of breakfast and coffee waiting for him in the kitchen. 

Kaoru, one hand on his head and the other keeping him balanced as he stood, snagged his overnight bag and unearthed his pills box. 

He’d had his first neurology appointment less than a week previous, and he’d liked his new doctor well enough and was quickly prescribed medication to keep up his strength and given a direct line to call the next time an attack surfaced. 

He flipped open the AM tab and swallowed two pills dry before joining the teasing family in the kitchen. He was almost not embarrassed by the horrific state of his hair. Almost. 

“Will you see me off?” Kojiro asked Kaoru the day before his departure.

Kaoru had scoffed. “Go all the way up to Naha just to put you on a plane? You want me to waste five hours of my day traveling?”

Say yes, part of Kaoru begged.

“Just a question,” Kojiro hummed, that annoying smirking quirk to his lips. “It’ll be another year before you see this handsome mug again. Just wanted to give you the option to extend your visual pass.”

Kojiro was lucky Kaoru didn’t trip him off of his skateboard for that comment. He was feeling generous. “Relegating me down to phone calls only?” Kaoru shot back instead. 

“You don’t appreciate me enough,” Kojiro teased, swooning dramatically, back arched as he took a sharp turn around a bend in the Crazy Rock track. Kaoru matched his increased speed a second later.

Kaoru refused to rise to the bait. Instead of responding, he took their casual skate and turned it into a race, rocketing ahead. Amidst the shouting protests from Kojiro who attempted to catch up, Kaoru declared a beef.

Because of his unfair head start advantage, Kaoru won, though not by as much as he’d been expecting. He bet if Kojiro had more time to skate in Italy he would have easily matched Kaoru. It was something to keep in mind, but for that moment Kaoru basked in his victory.

“Asshole,” Kojiro hissed as he took in deep gulps of air. 

Kaoru whipped his ponytail over his shoulder. He, too, was sweating, but he refused to show it in such an undignified manner.

He used to not care about stuff like looking undignified even two years ago. He would have skated all evening with his shirt on backwards and not given a damn. But something had switched in him after starting college. (After him.) He became more aware of expectations, not only those that others had for him, but those that he had for himself. And he chose to live up to his own, and apparently set his standards rather high.

He liked that Kojiro didn’t care though, no matter how many skaters saw them. 

“Alright, what do you want?” Kojiro asked, knocking Kaoru out of his thoughts.

Kaoru flexed his hands. They’d been fine all day, but some stiffness was creeping in. He was hoping sleep would relax the nerves enough. 

“For what?” Kaoru asked once Kojiro’s question registered in his brain.

“For winning. What do you want?”

Kaoru sucked his lower lip between his teeth where his ring used to be, a force of habit that he’d yet to break but couldn’t find it in him to be self conscious about in front of Kojiro who had seen him literally wet his pants in primary (dark times). 

“I’ll let you know,” he decided. “Consider it an IOU.”

Kojiro groaned. “I hate those. They always seem to multiply before I remember I owe them.”

Kaoru smirked. “Well, interest accrues.”

“How much interest are we talking?” Kojiro asked, crossing his arms over his bare chest. Kaoru did his best not to stare, because Kojiro had gone shirtless tonight and it was a distracting sight. Kaoru had forgone his glasses this evening, so the slightly blurry vision helped keep him focused. 

“When you get back, I’ll tell you,” Kaoru decided. He swallowed down the lump of emotion in his throat that had been threatening to choke him all day. “So come home quickly.”

Maybe it was something on Kaoru’s face that betrayed his cool tone, because Kojiro’s expression of mock annoyance cracked and his arms fell back to his sides. “I will,” he assured Kaoru, voice serious. “And maybe over your summer break,” he added after a moment of silence passed between them, “you come visit me. Get an early start on that part of your plan to visit Europe.”

Kaoru dropped his eyes and pretended to inspect his board. He ran fingers over the wheels and tested the give of the trucks. He wondered if he could configure his working AI to have a skateboard assist function. “I’m sure I could spare a week or two,” he mumbled. He hadn’t expected Kojiro to make such an offer. He’d debated it himself but didn’t want to impose himself upon Kojiro while he was also in school. 

“There’s so much I want to show you,” Kojiro said, and Kaoru chastised himself for being a momentary coward and met the eyes of his best friend again. “Could do Spain and France, too. Florence isn’t too far from Barcelona, or Marseille.”

“Don’t be offended if I don’t take your honest word for it. I’ll do my own research, thanks,” Kaoru said with a huff. “Maybe we should start with Venice.”

“So you’ll come?”

Kojiro looked surprisingly hopeful at the prospect. Kaoru felt stupid, all of a sudden. He wasn’t the only one with a long-distance best friend.

Along with creating a plan for his life, Kaoru really needed to reorganize his priorities.

“Yes, you idiot. Don’t try to inflate any more in the meantime or we’ll have to go to Milan to get you specially tailored clothing because that will be all that will fit you.”

It was a weak comeback, but it was all Kaoru could muster. Kojiro was smiling, and it was the same happy, young smile Kaoru had seen all of his life. The same smile he’d loved seeing all of his life. 

“Go again?” Kojiro offered, holding up his board and jerking his head back up the mountain.

Kaoru opened his mouth to agree, but then a spasm knocked his board from his grip, and he barely caught it with his left hand. The fingers of his right hand continued to twitch for ten long seconds, and he and Kojiro both stared at them until the spasms ceased. Kaoru took two deep breaths before he shot Kojiro a regretful look. “The body says no,” he regretted to inform him. “I think I’m calling it a night.”

Was this what he should get used to, going forward? His body ruining the moment?

Kojiro’s gaze assessed Kaoru’s face, eyes darting about, until he eventually shrugged. “Okay. Let’s head back.”

Kojiro spun on his heels and Kaoru sputtered at his back, “You don’t have to go just because I am, K-JOE.”

Kojiro looked over his shoulder (and his stupidly well defined back muscles) and arched an eyebrow at him. “Why would I stay if you’re not here?”

Kojiro headed back up the hill, presumably towards their bikes, and Kaoru lagged behind, turning those words over in his head and willing his heart to settle. It was stuttering as aggressively as his hand had been.

Kaoru knew at age twenty-five that his body was not going to wait the ten-year gap before evolving from relapsing-remitting MS into secondary progressive MS. He was glad for his forethought and prior planning, because he was prepared as the moments of remission shortened after every attack.

After graduating from university at twenty-two, he followed his plan and finished out his three-year apprenticeship with the university’s nearby calligraphy studio before moving back to the city of Okinawa, temporarily in his parents’ house, before purchasing his own one-story home in a community on the opposite side of the city from his family home, and started his own business. 

Carla, his AI, was fully complete, and with each new update he gave her, she shone even brighter. The first job he assigned to her, after realizing that his fine motor skills were not as strong as they needed to be, was to integrate her into his calligraphy career. In doing so, he accidentally stumbled into fame because of it. Apparently, AI calligraphy was kind of revolutionary. It took his performances to another level, and he was invited to apply for grants to continue to research and develop her. Having the time and money to do that also gave Kaoru the chance to integrate Carla into skateboarding as well. 

Kojiro teased him constantly about his robot wife, despite the fact that she was not a robot or an actual woman, but she truly had become an integral part of his day. He woke up to her alarms and fell asleep to her generated lullabies. 

Carla made his life easier, and easier was exactly what Kaoru needed to keep sane, especially as his body began to betray him more and more each year. 

His newest medication, that did seem to be working to be fair, took a hit to his energy upon infusion and also knocked out his immune system. A cold or a fever could take him out for over a week, so he was extra cautious to maintain cleanliness. He started wearing a mask at S because he knew skaters, and he knew nothing short of death would keep them away from their heaven. He couldn’t risk infection even if he, too, was a skater and didn’t want to be taken away from his heaven either.

After a year of running his business out of his house and realizing that he wanted to build upon it, he rented out a studio space which happened to be nearby the property that Kojiro was currently paying monthly to cover the down payment to own and turn into his own Italian restaurant. The building attracted him because it not only had a combination feel of traditional and modern, but the two-story building was also accessible with an elevator. 

When his business became open to the public, he realized that to maintain the image he had created he needed to dress appropriately, even if stereotypically. His wardrobe slowly started to include more yukata and kimono and less slacks and button ups. It ended up being a blessing in disguise, when on bad days buttoning up a shirt ended up taking three times as long to accomplish for him than tying an obi. Slipping on tabi socks and tori sandals was a breeze in comparison to tying laces. 

As soon as Kojiro moved back to Okinawa, just when he said he would, Kaoru asked him to be his back-up during appointments and if he could list him as his emergency contact because he couldn’t stand dealing with his parents' pitying looks anymore. They’d been all fine when he told them his diagnosis, but after dealing with his weak and tired self just a few times post-infusion, they’d flipped the script. He was no longer their son who now had a good head on his shoulders and could take care of himself and had become “oh my poor boy.” 

Kojiro hadn’t hesitated before accepting the responsibility and had asked Kaoru if it was okay if he told his family, because if he was caught up at work, as the restaurant business had crazy hours, perhaps one of his sisters would be able to step in on his behalf. Kaoru had been surprised Kojiro hadn’t already and was flattered he’d waited several years until he had Kaoru’s permission. The Nanjos learned of Kaoru’s MS and Kaoru didn’t know what Kojiro had said to them, but on the rare times they came into contact randomly, they never treated him any differently. 

Around his six-year anniversary of his diagnosis, he met as he did three times yearly with his neurologist, and they ultimately decided, after an in-depth conversation of how Kaoru was feeling and what he’d experienced over the last year, to keep him on the same medication regimen. He was almost done with his current round of infusions, so a few months after that they would meet and see if he was feeling any better. His doctor didn’t say anything unusual, but there was a firm set to their lips as they assessed his chart that Kaoru could easily read. He’d seen that expression often in the mirror.

Soon, his diagnosis would change, and when it did, that meant more than just his vision, his hands, and his energy would be sapped. Soon, he had to face the reality of losing full mobility. It would be a slow downhill crawl, but he knew it was his intended path. He’d gotten better over the years at quickly coming to terms with life’s twists and turns, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt his pride a little.

So just as he had when he was first diagnosed, to combat his wounded sense of self, he created another future plan.

Kojiro set the refilled glass of wine next to Kaoru’s empty plate and swiped it from the bar counter. “You look contemplative,” he noted before taking the plate into the kitchen. He must have just set it in the sink to wash later because he returned a second later with another glass which he topped off for himself and took the seat on Kaoru’s right.

Kaoru sighed and massaged his temples. His phone sat on the counter in front of him, an open notes document cursor blinking at him mockingly. “You have eyes. Congratulations,” Kaoru sniped back.

“Okay, bad mood. Got it.”

Kaoru glared at Kojiro as he took a long sip from his offered glass. Kojiro simply smirked back at him over the rim of his. 

“I’m planning.”

“Oof,” Kojiro hissed out a wince. “Now I get it.”

Kaoru finished off the glass and tilted it towards Kojiro, who filled it back up without argument. Kaoru muttered a thanks as he curled his fingers around the stem to pull it back. He stared at the red as the liquid rocked back and forth before settling and took a deep breath. 

“This is the saddest birthday party I’ve ever attended, by the way,” Kojiro said after a moment of silence. “Remember how wild your twentieth was?” He was treated to Kaoru’s glare once again.

“We’re twenty-six,” Kaoru argued. “There’s not much to celebrate at this point, is there?”

“Hey now,” Kojiro chastised. “Isn’t celebrating you enough?”

Kaoru tapped his glass with a nail and refused to meet Kojiro’s earnest gaze. A hand entered his field of vision, and before he could say anything, Kojiro was swiping Kaoru’s phone from the counter. Kaoru followed its path as Kojiro stuffed it into his pants pocket underneath the apron he was still stupidly wearing even though the restaurant had closed hours ago. 

“Alright, enough thinking,” Kojiro declared, and he met Kaoru’s eyes with determination. He checked the wall clock attached to the bar’s back wall. “There are still thirty-eight minutes left until your birthday is over. So you get each of those minutes to have me do or ask whatever you want of me. I’ll do it.”

Kaoru arched a brow. “Anything?”

Kojiro shrugged. “I trust you not to maim me, at least not more than what would allow me to get up and work tomorrow.”

Kaoru blanched in horror.

“See?” Kojiro said with a wave of his hand towards Kaoru’s expression. “I don’t have to worry. You’re down to thirty-seven minutes, so get asking.”

“I’m an adult, Kojiro. Anything I want I can get myself,” Kaoru protested. Kaoru was actually, not to boast or anything, pretty independently wealthy. Certainly he was in a far better position than Kojiro to acquire things.

“Then stop thinking like an adult,” Kojiro suggested, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, though as to what the movement suggested Kaoru was at a loss. “Think… think beefs at S. Or bets we’d make as teenagers.”

“You want to play Truth or Dare?” Kaoru blurted, thinking back to the group of teenage skaters (and purposefully omitting a certain one from memory) and the antics they would get up to in the dead of night under flickering street lights. 

Kojiro barked out a laugh, head tossed back, and Kaoru averted his gaze back to his once again nearly empty wine glass. Was Kojiro underpouring?

“Little tough to do with just two, especially if I’m the only victim. But sure. And before you ask I pick truth, for the first one.”

Kaoru sighed heavily and shook his head. “I know all your truths, Kojiro.”

The long moment of silence that passed next was heavy. Very slowly, Kaoru turned to look at his best friend with a very curious look on his face. Kojiro’s eyes were now the ones refusing to meet his. 

“Are there secrets you’ve kept from me, Kojiro?” Kaoru asked, half amused and hoping that that half obscured the other, which was terror. 

“I’m sure you have some!” Kojiro murmured, pretending to pick at something on the pristine clean countertop. 

“I do not!” Just one. “I have never needed to hide from you, Kojiro.” That was the truth. Kaoru had never hidden his feelings. Not stating them wasn’t lying, exactly. Technically. 

Kojiro murmured something else, but Kaoru couldn’t make it out.

“Oh no Kojiro.” Kaoru smirked. “You said whatever I want. So you have…” he checked the wall clock, “Thirty-three minutes and... fifteen, fourteen seconds to tell me what you have hidden from me.”

“Is that really what you want?” Kojiro whined, one hand covering his eyes, his thumb rubbing the skin of his temple like he was staving off a headache.

“This was your idea,” Kaoru pointed out, turning in his seat so that he properly faced Kojiro. 

“It’s not fair if it’s just me, though.”

“I don’t have to be fair on my birthday.”

“Oh, very mature, Kaoru.” Kojiro glared.

“You were the one who said to think back to our teenage years! Speaking of, is that when the lies started?” Kaoru propped his chin up into his hand, elbow on the counter. He raised his eyebrows, prompting, when Kojiro didn’t say anything.

Kojiro met his gaze briefly, jaw working, and Kaoru wondered if he’d pushed too far. Kojiro was allowed to have secrets. They’d never made a pact that they had to know everything. (There were many things Kaoru wished he didn’t know, specifically things about Kojiro’s first girlfriend and every partner since, especially those from Italy.) At least to Kaoru, he’d just assumed their relationship was one in which there was no need to have shame, so there were no repercussions to sharing. 

Kaoru judged Kojiro heavily, of course, but he was rarely ever fully serious with his jabs.

Had he been reading their relationship wrong? For how long? Were his feelings clouding his judgement when it came to Kojiro?

He’d worked really hard to keep his emotions separated from the facts of his life, especially concerning his MS and especially, especially, when it came to Kojiro. 

Kojiro had a weird look on his face now, hand no longer shielding his eyes, and Kaoru jolted, realizing his emotions might have been playing out over his face. He wondered what Kojiro had seen. 

“Yeah,” Kojiro confirmed. “I probably started hiding things from you back in high school. But to be fair we were both hiding a lot of stuff while in high school.”

Hiding in closets, for one.

Kaoru hummed in acquiescence and finished off his glass. Kojiro didn’t move to refill it. 

After a few moments, Kojiro blurted, “I lied when I asked if I could tell my family about your MS… that they now know.”

Kaoru blinked. He shook his head slowly, not understanding. “Lied as in you didn’t tell them or lied like—”

“I told my mom. The day after you told me.”

Kaoru huffed out a breath and averted his gaze, jaw clenching. “And you lied about that why?”

He could see Kojiro shrug out of the corner of his eye. “I was embarrassed I needed to. I was twenty years old and my best friend just told me this life-altering thing that there was nothing I could do about. And there was a part of me that was not ready to handle it, but I knew that wasn’t something I ever wanted to put on you, because if the alternative was you never confiding in me because you thought I would react badly…” Kojiro trailed off, but Kaoru could fill in the blanks.

Kaoru tapped a finger against his chin before sighing. “I understand… now.” He caught Kojiro’s gaze. “I’m not upset that you told your mother first. Immediately, apparently.” He ignored Kojiro’s wince. “And I can’t be upset that you waited so long to tell me, because,” Kaoru waved a hand in the air as he searched for the correct words, “I don’t know how I would have reacted if you’d told me that back then. I don’t know if, without hindsight, I would have understood your reasoning. But I do. It was… selfish of me, I suppose, to think that I could tell you this thing and expect you not to react or look at me differently.”

“But I wanted to do and be for you what you needed,” Kojiro cut him off abruptly, stilling Kaoru’s tongue. “It wasn’t selfish to want to be treated the same because nothing about you had changed. You just had… more words in your biography, I guess. That’s how Mom explained it to me.”

After a beat of silence, Kaoru said, “Then you made the right move. Shockingly,” He couldn’t help but add in a jab at Kojiro’s intelligence. 

“Hey!”

“You’ve always been exactly what I needed,” Kaoru followed up with, and that snapped Kojiro’s mouth shut.

Kojiro stared at him for a long moment, cleared his throat, looked down at himself, seemingly realized he was still wearing his apron, and began untying it from where the strings were knotted at the base of his spine, mumbling, “Well… good.”

Kaoru allowed himself (as it was his birthday) to admire the flex of Kojiro’s arm muscles as he pulled the apron off from around his neck and tossed it over the bar counter toward the kitchen, and the stretch of skin exposed at his hip when his shirt rode up at the motion.

“So what else?” Kaoru probed, eyes averted to his hands to rub at an invisible ink stain at the crease of his middle and ring finger..

“I don’t make a habit of lying to you, Kaoru.”

“I know.” Kaoru rolled his eyes with a soft huff. “But I’m enjoying seeing you flustered, and I still have over twenty minutes left.” He raised his gaze back up to catch the other man’s reaction.

Kojiro chuckled. He rubbed the back of his neck, and only because Kaoru was paying close attention did he notice when the massage paused for just a second before resuming.

Kaoru smirked. “What did you just think of?”

Kojiro’s eyes snapped to meet his. “Huh?”

“Even gorillas are intelligent beings, Kojiro, I know you understood what I said.”

“You know,” Kojiro diverted, pitch changing, “we’ll be late to S—”

Kaoru slapped the counter with the closed fan he unearthed from his sleeve, shutting Kojiro up. He was, perhaps, a bit tipsy from the glasses of wine. How many had he had in an hour? No more than five, right? Maybe Kojiro had been right to cut him off.

“If it’s that embarrassing you don’t have to tell me, but be assured you will have a much worse go of it if I have to start guessing,” Kaoru warned.

Kojiro’s face went a touch pale.

“So pick your choice. I’ll even be the gracious birthday boy and say this is the last truth you have to give me today and then we can go to S.”

Kojiro licked his lips and exhaled softly. “You’re incredible.”

“That is not a secret.”

Kojiro rolled his eyes and Kaoru smothered a smile by hiding it behind his fan. 

“It’s nothing big,” Kojiro assured him, though it sounded more like a warning. “I just owe you one.”

“You owe me several,” Kaoru contested. “But which one specifically?”

“The day before I went back to Italy, when I came back here after your second year, I think. We skated a beef and you won.”

The memory came back to Kaoru in an instant. “I never cashed in, did I?”

“Nope,” Kojiro popped with a smirk. “And to think I wasn’t the one who forgot.”

“This time,” Kaoru murmured loud enough for Kojiro to hear, and he received an elbow to his side for it.

“So did you ever think of something?” Kojiro asked.

Considering Kaoru was pretty sure he’d never intended to make Kojiro pay up, he had not. But thinking back to that time when he’d first been diagnosed, the life plan he’d made, and the continuing life plan he had still to make, he came up with it on the spot.

“I want to go on a trip,” he declared.

Before his work started getting any more complicated, while he was still young, and before he could no longer enjoy long days as a tourist, he wanted to take another vacation. 

“With me?” Kojiro clarified, pointing at himself.

“No, with your mother.” Kaoru replied sarcastically and then hesitated. “Actually, let me know her avail—”

Kaoru got another elbow to the side, but he was able to dodge it this time, stepping down onto Kojiro’s foot instead. 

“A trip,” Kojiro wheezed out, bent in half with a pained smile on his face. It was stupidly endearing. “A trip sounds nice. Where? I can’t afford anything too pricey.”

“I can cover it,” Kaoru immediately said, and before Kojiro could understandably argue about how he had his own finances, Kaoru explained, “Your effort will come in other places. Trust me, you will pay.”

Kojiro swallowed thickly. “Sure,” he agreed, and his voice hilariously squeaked. “Fine. Fair. Where to?”

Kaoru recalled three years ago getting invited to an artificial intelligence summit in Paris, France, and dragging Kojiro along as a late birthday gift. They’d only gone for a few days, barely having one to actually tour the city. But because neither of them were familiar with the location or the language, it was freeing in a way. Getting to spend time with Kojiro not as professionals but as friends enjoying each other's company had been great and the experience far too short. 

Though there had been that bar mishap…

“America,” he decided.

“Want to narrow it down some?” Kojiro suggested.

“California, I suppose. Hawaii doesn’t need any more tourists. I’ve never been to Los Angeles. Or San Francisco. That might suit our tastes better.”

Kojiro stared at him in silence for a moment, an unreadable look on his face, before it melted away. “Are those cities near each other?” Kojiro asked, head cocked to the side.

Kaoru grinned, trying not to feel unsettled by the disappeared look. It was a look he’d seen on Kojiro before, though rarely, and always after Kaoru had said something that seemed innocuous but apparently hadn’t been. “That’s for you to figure out, Kojiro. You took my phone, so I am unable to do any kind of planning.” He spread his fingers out, held his hands up, and shrugged. “Oh well.”

From the flash of panic on Kojiro’s face Kaoru knew he was, also, thinking of Paris. “Kaoru—”

“But you can figure out all of the details later,” Kaoru trilled. “I believe you have a beef tonight, right? Against Shadow?”

Kojiro sighed heavily and polished off his glass of wine with one long gulp. He scooped up their glasses and disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes, and Kaoru was content to sit and wait for his return, Kojiro’s cleaning a background soundtrack. 

When Kojiro reappeared, brushing still slightly damp hands on his shirt, he wrestled Kaoru’s phone out of his pocket and handed it over. The screen flashed up at Kaoru as he took it back, the Carla-configured case recognizing his fingerprint and bringing it to life. Five minutes to midnight. Right on time.

“I would have said yes, just so you know,” Kojiro commented as they both straddled their individual bikes, dressed and outfitted for Crazy Rock, about ten minutes later. “To the trip,” he clarified. “Even without the IOU.”

Kaoru revved his bike and had a sudden flash of inspiration. He wondered how much it would cost to have it Carla modded. The cost would probably be worth it.

“Nothing is ever so easy when it comes to you, Kojiro,” he replied, mind half on a mock-up cost analysis spreadsheet.

Kaoru had meant his words to imply Kojiro’s busy schedule with his own restaurant, but the dark and hooded look he was faced with in return had him playing the words back in his head and realizing how suggestive they sounded. That look, combined with the one from earlier that Kaoru had been unable to read, sent alarm bells off in Kaoru’s head.

“I’m actually a pretty easy date,” Kojiro said, leaning in close over the side of his bike.

Kaoru averted his gaze, scoffed, and revved his engine again. He was starting to feel a cold numbness spread through his body, but it wasn’t the usual nerve weakness this time. He spat, “Yeah, we all know that, JOE.”

The smile faltered on Kojiro’s face, and Kaoru raised his mask, fastened his helmet, and sped away. He hoped that by the time they arrived at Crazy Rock Kojiro would have forgotten the exchange completely, maybe too focused on his upcoming beef. 

But a hand wrapped around his wrist a half an hour later, a minute before the klaxon alarms were meant to sound to announce the start of the race, and Kaoru spun to find Kojiro a step closer than he should have been, and his breath caught in his throat.

He’d never hidden anything from Kojiro, but he’d never needed to before. 

He had one secret, but he’d never hidden it. 

“I lied. Again,” Kojiro murmured under his breath, only loud enough for Kaoru to hear amidst the raucous crowd.

Shadow, Kojiro’s painted challenger, was basking in the attention, and the crowd seemed to love to give it, so thankfully not many eyes were on them.

“What now?” Kaoru hissed. 

“There is one more secret I have.”

Kaoru met Kojiro’s gaze, his best friend looking nervous and determined all at once, and Kaoru’s heart sputtered and stopped beating in his chest before starting back up double-time. 

“It’s not my birthday anymore,” Kaoru muttered, voice faint. 

“Then consider this a freebie. Out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Then spit it out!”

Kojiro chuckled softly. “Firstly, you do know what San Francisco is known for, right?” He raised his eyebrows.

Kaoru was glad for his mask because he felt his entire face flush. “They legalized gay marriage across the entire country in 2015,” he couldn’t help but correct. But he knew what Kojiro was implying. Kojiro knew what Kaoru had (accidentally) implied even bringing up the city.

It was a thing in the Japanese gay community for a long time, knowing what cities around the world one could escape to to become in one way legally bound to their same-sex partner. San Francisco was one of the most popular. 

Kojiro grinned. “So you do know.”

Kaoru glared. “You’re going to be late to your own race,” he tried to redirect Kojiro’s attention. He hadn’t prepared for this, not here, not now. 

Kaoru was a planner now, but this was not a bullet point on his list. Kaoru only planned for realities, not dreams. 

“But I didn’t tell you about what else I hid from you.”

Kaoru shoved Kojiro toward the starting line where Shadow was starting to look agitated. “Win, and then tell me,” he demanded.

“I’d rather you tell me. You’re the smart one.”

“Since we both know,” Kaoru croaked, “There’s no need to say it, then, is there?”

Kojiro didn’t have the chance to say anything else before he was corralled into a starting position, and Kaoru spun on his heel and headed for his bike. He had a finish line to wait at. And, maybe—his heart thundered at the thought—something else waiting for him there as well. An answer. A confirmation. An agreement. 

When Kojiro moved into Kaoru’s house, there were only so many boxes of his things that could come with him. The rest stayed piled up in the studio apartment that was on the second floor of Sia la luce. 

Despite the larger size of Kaoru’s ( their ) house, there just wasn’t room for it all.

“What is all this?” Kojiro asked, a mix of disgust and awe in his voice as he surveyed Kaoru’s office, allowed to enter and do more than just peek for the first time.

Kaoru had converted the larger of the two spare bedrooms into his office space, though he worked in multiple corners of the house, wherever he was most comfortable. Sometimes, if on the drive from the studio to home he had an idea, he wouldn’t even make it to the office before he had his laptop or tablet out and was jotting down notes or sketching out a prototype. It happened less these days, as finding comfort was key for Kaoru, and he had a really nice (and horrifically expensive) office chair, but remnants of work pieces littered different spots. His ( their ) bedroom was less a work space and more of a robotics central. Charging cords spilled out of every wall outlet, and Carla had her own docking station that took up one corner.

His office was the one room he didn’t let anyone else enter, for primarily security reasons. Also, the room had many buttons and flashing lights, and Kaoru knew a few too many people (like his youngest calligraphy students) with the tendencies to touch colorful flashing buttons. Kojiro wasn’t necessarily not one of those people, but Kaoru knew Kojiro feared Kaoru more than his curiosity interested him.

Any calligraphy work Kaoru did was completed at the studio, but he did have a closet full of materials like older brushes and sentimental items from his early days, plus the more expensive inks in multiple forms for the commissioners who liked really high-end pieces. That closet wasn’t in his office, though. It was actually in the other spare bedroom that Kojiro stayed in when he spent the night, on those rare occasions before they… well.

Before they became a they.

During their trip along the United States’ west coast, they didn’t spend more than a few hours actually in San Francisco, despite the fact that Kojiro still hadn’t stopped teasing him about dropping hints. They passed through on their way to Napa for wine tasting and then spent a day in Sacramento. 

Kojiro had been in charge of charting their destinations and handling travel times, and he actually did pretty well except for the horrific restaurant recommendation in Los Angeles. Kaoru hadn’t stopped teasing Kojiro about that. 

Kaoru’s office was one quarter computer, one half workstation, and the rest were the two walls without windows or doors that were covered by shelving housing Carla’s server. It took a lot of machinery to keep an artificial intelligence system up and running, and though Carla was Kaoru’s personal assistant only, she still needed a lot of memory. Carla was incorporated into more aspects of his life now than not. His home and studio security system, his vehicles, his phone, his watch wrist band, his computers, his skateboard, and a few other nearly completed devices yet to be brought online, waiting for the necessary moment.

Kaoru no longer hated being a planner, and he tsked at his younger self for ever thinking the effort wasn’t going to be worth it. 

He was also now insanely rich, so. 

“This,” Kaoru emphasized, pointing at the room, “is a no-touch zone.”

“Great, so I’ve graduated up from a no-looking zone,” Kojiro fake-cheered. “I don’t remember you having this much in here.”

“Carla is a big girl,” Kaoru explained, patting the server shelving closest to him. “So you can see why, no, I can’t just,” he put on his best impression of Kojiro’s voice, “‘shove some… boxes in the office… closet.’”

“Was that supposed to be me?”

“Yes, and it was spot on.”

“I do not take that many pauses between words.”

Kaoru contested, “You do when you’re trying to seduce someone into giving you what you want, which right now is extra storage space. Which you already have at your restaurant, so I need not give up any of mine.”

Kojiro slunk forward a step and wrapped an arm around Kaoru’s waist and pulled him in so that their chests were flush. “I hardly think I need to do much sultry vocals to seduce you,” Kojiro voiced softly, staring into Kaoru’s eyes.

It had been over a year since their post-S night of tender and hesitant embracing and subsequent actual conversation of feelings that contained real words and not just vague acknowledgements. Fourteen months of these flirty moves from Kojiro hardly unsettled him anymore, though he didn’t think he’d ever lose the feeling of his heart briefly leaping into his throat. He no longer went pink at the ears, so he’d made great progress. 

“Unfortunately for you,” Kaoru shot back, placing a hand on Kojiro’s chest, “I somehow fell for you not for your giant body, but because of that mostly-functioning brain of yours. Why, I couldn’t tell you.”

Kojiro groaned and pretended to buckle his knees, forcing Kaoru to snag both hands into his clothing to keep him standing. “Insult me more,” he moaned with a high-pitched whine, though it quickly dissolved into chuckles and he finally regained his own footing so Kaoru wasn’t the only thing keeping him upright.

Kaoru huffed and rolled his eyes, taking a step back and letting Kojiro’s arm fall away from his waist. “You are a ridiculous man. You’re lucky it’s a good day so your gorilla body didn’t crush me.”

The smile vanished from Kojiro’s face and he looked suddenly ashen. A deep pit of guilt welled in Kaoru, and he averted his eyes, hating himself for even trying to joke about it. 

“Forget I just said that,” Kaoru hastened to spit out, tucking his hair back over his shoulders and tying it into a ponytail with the band around his wrist, for something to do with his hands. 

“Kaoru—”

“No,” Kaoru shouted, and Kojiro looked so startled, eyes going wide. He had one hand reached out towards Kaoru, but it just hovered between them with uncertainty. “Please don’t apologize,” Kaoru begged as he finished with his hair. “I will hit you if you do.”

Kojiro tried reaching out again, this time actually wrapping fingers around Kaoru’s wrist. “Kaoru, I—”

Kaoru held up his free hand. “This is one of the things I knew we needed to talk about when you moved in, and I should have brought it up earlier.”

With his wrist still in Kojiro’s grasp, Kaoru led Kojiro out of his office and into their bedroom in the next room over. He sat them both on the bed and angled himself so that they faced each other. Kojiro was pliant and receptive the entire time.

Kaoru took a deep breath before declaring, “I’m allowed to joke about my own shit, okay?”

Kojiro nodded after a second of hesitation. “Okay.”

“Part of it is a pride thing, the other part is a control thing. If I control the way I approach my MS, then it never gets big enough to drag me down. And you need to let me do it. You don’t have to agree or anything, but you need to not give me that wounded look.”

Kojiro nodded in agreement, faster this time.

“It’s going to be different now that we’re under the same roof. I don’t usually talk about it or think about it when I’m not at home, but this is my safe space to be whatever I need to be in that moment. I know you’ve… dealt with some of it.”

Kojiro smiled so sweetly and nodded. He tangled their fingers together and squeezed.

Two months ago, Kaoru was diagnosed with secondary progressive, as he’d been expecting. His moments of remission had gotten shorter and shorter after the first few years, and he hadn’t felt like he’d leveled out or improved at all in the last year. His disease progression was mercifully slow, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t a constant upward climb. 

His grip strength was noticeably worse now, and though he’d thankfully yet to experience any weakness in his lower half, he had a few moments where his body had betrayed him in embarrassing ways. Thankfully, each time thus far he’d been at home or alone, but they had been large knocks at his self esteem and pride, doing a load of laundry in the middle of the day to disappear his shame.

Kaoru had contingency plans ready for whenever he needed them.

When he got the news, though he’d been expecting it, and had even known it was likely to come that day, he’d been with Kojiro. And it had been the first time since they got together, and really ever, that Kaoru had allowed himself to be vulnerable about his disease in front of another person. He even kept it bottled up in front of the doctors.

But Kojiro had been so kind, listening and just staying quiet, getting him exactly what he needed, and making the day all about him. 

He knew Kojiro could help him handle the hard days, but that was different.

“So you will know, waking up in the same bed every morning, if it is a bad day or not.”

Because Kaoru could always tell from the first minute he woke up if he would be able to drive that day or if he would need to take public transportation due to not trusting his body to safely operate a vehicle. His vision had stalled out after the first few years, and he hadn’t needed to update his glasses prescription since he was twenty-three, but on bad days he didn’t trust it not to fuzz out.

“So just be mindful, that’s all I ask,” Kaoru finished.

“Of course,” Kojiro agreed instantly. He squeezed their intertwined hands again. “And don’t be stupid with me about it either.”

Kaoru arched his eyebrows. “Me? Stupid?”

“Yeah, four-eyes. Your big brain and even bigger wallet doesn’t mean shit.”

Kaoru’s jaw dropped and he huffed out a surprised laugh. “Really?”

“Yep. You can be just as stupid as anyone. You just usually aren’t.”

Kaoru laughed, and some of the tension eased out of the room. “Let me guess, I’m only stupid with you then?”

“Stupid for me,” Kojiro replied in that sultry voice, the same one Kaoru had mimicked earlier, and Kaoru pretended to pull his hand away. Kojiro chased after it, and Kaoru relented without much fuss. “That counts.”

“Sure, sure.”

“So you’ll just have to prove you can be smart with me and let me know if you need something from me, and not be a prideful bastard in pain for no good reason.”

Kaoru licked his lips. Kojiro had a point. They were both going to have to work together to make the best of the bad days. “Well now you’re just challenging me.”

Kojiro shook his head, but an amused smirk twisted his lips. “Whatever works, sweetie.”

Kaoru shivered. “Don’t call me that… in public,” he ordered.

It was Kojiro’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “So private is okay?” He leaned in, but Kaoru shoved him back with a hand.

“No, there’s too much to do today, and you have lunch to open for in two hours,” Kaoru protested as Kojiro continued to lean in despite the hand on his chest, and he turned his head away.

Kojiro settled his lips against Kaoru’s cheek and spoke against the warm skin, “But that’s two hours.”

“I have a piece to finish for a client who is taking me out to dinner at your restaurant, may I add, tomorrow night as thanks. So I’m going to need the place to still be running by then.” Kaoru’s words came out a bit weak, but they had the intended effect. Kojiro leaned back with a sigh.

“Okay princess, you win.”

“It’s not a win I want,” Kaoru mumbled in admission, and Kojiro smirked, “but it is necessary.”

They extradited themselves from the bed and each other. “So I’ll finish unpacking, without your help, apparently.”

Kaoru shrugged. “Someone has to make money between the two of us.”

Kojiro flicked Kaoru on the forehead, and Kaoru stepped on his foot. Kojiro pulled Kaoru into a kiss and ten minutes somehow disappeared.

Before Kaoru left to head to the studio, he let Kojiro know that he would head directly to Crazy Rock from the studio, and got a cheek-kiss goodbye. Having someone see him off to work was a really great feeling that he was happy to get used to.

Little did he know that that night of S would be the start of a crazy timeline of events that brought the two of them closer not only to each other, but also to friends (of varying ages) that they never would have met otherwise.

It was all Adam’s fault. And yes, Kaoru meant that in a negative way, despite the good relationships that developed.

Kaoru recalled little aside from pain that started at his chin and was suddenly wrapped around his face, and then his ears started ringing and his head was pounding, and the thought that he couldn’t feel his legs filled his mind. He could see Adam’s mouth moving, but he couldn’t comprehend his words. Something was burning his eyes, and Kaoru didn’t know if it was blood or sweat. 

Minutes, maybe only seconds, passed before another figure entered his field of vision. Out of the corner of his stinging eyes he saw Kojiro running toward him, and Kaoru let his eyelids relax and his body go limp in his boyfriend’s arms. Words were shared, bright lights flashed around them, and warm and sturdy arms kept him steady as he somehow moved, even though he wasn’t sure he still had legs.

He definitely still had legs. Nothing Adam could do while skating at S would amputate him. At least, not that quickly.

The time between then and waking up in the hospital was gone from Kaoru’s memory. The room he was in was bright, but not too bright, so it was daytime. He’d lost at least six hours, probably more. A lot of his body was restricted, but he couldn’t tell immediately where the aching originated from. His head pulsed, so he closed his eyes and sighed as the relief immediately came. With concentration, he could hear the machines in his room as well as movement from outside his room. Someone next door was having a conversation, and the words were loud but muffled.

After a few minutes, probably, Kaoru opened his eyes again, and he was pleased to find the pounding in his head had lessened. He was interrupted from taking inventory of his injuries, now that he could see them, by his door opening and capturing his attention. Kojiro’s body filled the doorway.

He froze when he saw Kaoru was awake. He had a white coffee cup in one hand and red bruising under his eyes, but other than that he looked just like he would on any day off.

Today definitely wasn’t a day off for Kojiro, but Kaoru couldn’t worry about that.

“Hey,” Kojiro greeted after getting over his surprise. He was quick to take a seat next to Kaoru’s bed, abandoning his paper cup on the bedside table. He raised a hand to brush at Kaoru’s forehead and even the light touch made Kaoru flinch. “Sorry,” Kojiro mumbled, taking his hand back, brushing his fingers along Kaoru’s cheek instead. At least that didn’t hurt.

“How long was I asleep?” Kaoru decided to ask first out of the list of questions he wanted answered.

“Just a few hours,” Kojiro responded. “The doctor said you probably won’t remember, but you were conscious for most of it, because we had to make sure the concussion was taken care of before letting you rest. They bandaged you up, put you on the good medicine.”

Kaoru peeked at the IV bag dangling on its pole above his head and followed the tube down to the needle in his left hand.

His veins were sometimes hard to find for blood draws and transfusions, so hand IVs were something Kaoru was used to, but most doctors took from his right rather than his left because they were slightly more prominent. 

Kaoru turned to look and hissed, not in pain but at the sight of his right arm wrapped in a cast and immobilized to his chest with a sling. 

“Shit,” he moaned. Then he coughed. Before he could even ask, Kojiro was reaching for the cup he’d come in with. It wasn’t actually coffee but ice chips, which Kojiro fed to him without much fuss, mainly because Kaoru was suddenly really thirsty. 

“Don’t think about it,” Kojiro instructed, “it” being his injured arm. His dominant hand. 

Kaoru leveled a weak glare at him and wished he could chomp down on the ice to make a point, but his jaw ached from what he now recalled was a skateboard to the face. 

“Save your brain power for healing,” Kojiro continued, “not worrying. Let me take care of that.”

“Carla?”

Kojiro nodded. “At home. Still in working order.”

Kaoru sighed in relief. Kojiro set aside the rest of the melting ice chips once Kaoru had his fill and curled his hands around Kaoru’s uninjured one. “What else?”

Kojiro licked his lips and nodded down at the bed. “Your left leg. There’s barely a small fracture in your foot from when you fell, it’s mainly wrapped from the ankle sprain, but—”

Kojiro didn’t have to go into it. Kaoru knew. His immune system and healing ability was nowhere near where it had been seven years ago. A small fracture would usually garner a quick recovery with crutches, but for him, it would be a miracle if he could walk out of the room by the time he was discharged. 

“Kojiro, can you bring me some things from the house, please?” Kaoru requested, making up his mind on the spot after mentally evaluating his options.

“Yeah, of course, as long as it’s not work.”

Kaoru shook his head. He regretted it immediately when his vision began to swim, but a minute later, after some gentle knuckle-brushing from Kojiro and steady breathing from Kaoru, he swallowed back the nausea. “It’s not, but I’ll need it before I leave and I want it sooner.”

Kaoru explained the list of items he needed, being as elusive as possible. Kojiro looked skeptical, but he agreed. “Okay. I’ll bring a change of clothes too. I think they want you to stay a couple nights,” he spoke over Kaoru’s groan, though he expected as much, “and have the hospital’s neurologist check in before you leave. Something to do with medication.” Kojiro ducked his head, “Sorry, I didn’t catch all of it.”

“It’s okay. They’ll have to explain it to me again,” Kaoru replied, lightly squeezing Kojiro’s fingers. “What happened at S?”

A muscle in Kojiro’s jaw twitched. “MIYA lost to Snake but that’s all I’m going to tell you because I really don’t want to think about the tournament right now.” As Kojiro spoke, the tension in his voice ratcheted up and his words came out so quickly that by the end Kaoru could barely understand what he was saying. 

“Okay,” Kaoru croaked. “Sure. Did the doctors say anything else?”

“They wouldn’t tell me much,” Kojiro grumbled, stubbornly avoiding Kaoru’s eyes even though his grip on Kaoru’s hand tightened. 

Even though Kojiro was listed as Kaoru’s emergency contact, they couldn’t release medical information to people outside of the family. In this case, it was a stupid rule, but Kaoru knew why it was important. 

He did wish the doctors could make a few concessions for the love of his life, but that wasn’t something they could have just guessed.

“Did my parents get notified?”

“I told them not to,” Kojiro assured.

Kaoru nodded. “Thanks.” Kaoru didn’t hate his parents, but he was almost twenty-eight years old and had long since stopped going to them for any kind of assistance. 

“Shit, Kaoru, of course.”

Kaoru closed his eyes. “Kojiro,” he begged on an exhale, feeling the emotion in Kojiro’s voice hit him in his core. “I’m going to be okay. Are you?”

Kojiro ducked his head and pressed a bruising kiss against the back of Kaoru’s palm, across from the IV. It was a long minute before Kojiro slowly nodded. Kaoru could hear him swallow thickly, and he hoped Kojiro wasn’t crying. 

“Worry about Langa, if you want to put that energy somewhere,” Kaoru instructed, half as a joke and half serious. 

He could feel Kojiro frown. “He and Reki are still fighting. I—”

“I take it back,” Kaoru interrupted, realizing where he’d gone wrong. “Focus all on me, but don’t fuss. Just spoil me.”

Kojiro snorted, and when he finally met Kaoru’s gaze, his eyes were mercifully dry. “You’re already so spoiled.”

Kaoru raised his chin, as much as he could, and murmured lowly, voice still a little rough, “Then give me what I demand.”

Kojiro kissed his bandage-free cheek this time. “Yes, princess.”

Kojiro eventually had to leave Kaoru’s bedside to oversee Sia la luce’s lunch opening and get Kaoru’s requested items from their house. He’d gotten several eyebrow raises as he’d reread off his short though cumbersome list, but as he promised, Kojiro didn’t tell him no. 

It wasn’t work, Kaoru promised. Not even Carla work. Not anymore, at least. 

Kojiro apologized for dumping his haul and leaving almost immediately, but the restaurant was understaffed and he needed to take over the kitchen for the dinner rush. 

“Don’t apologize. You’ll need to be the breadwinner in this household for once since I’m out of commission.” Kaoru wiggled his right shoulder for emphasis. “Please, earn your keep.”

Kojiro mimed swatting at him, obviously not doing it, but a nurse happened to walk in at that exact moment, so Kojiro hastily escaped her judgmental glare. 

Without a (well meaning) babysitter, and the parade of doctors and nurses complete for at least a few hours before they checked in on him before the night shift, Kaoru got to work. With some effort, he wiggled himself into a sitting position and was able to sit at the edge of the bed. Carla was settled on the mattress next to him. Her soft lullaby music was playing, a suggestion from Kojiro to try and encourage rest. (“Sorry, Kojiro,” he apologized mentally.) From the plastic-sided travel box that Kojiro hauled in, Kaoru carefully, aware of his strength limitations, extracted a folded-up and powered down electric wheelchair. 

He’d started building a personalized wheelchair two years ago, drawing up the specs, talking to several experts on its technology, and deciding what attributes would be the most important for his life going forward. The day when he would likely be wheelchair bound would come, and his MS could rapidly speed up out of nowhere and make it sooner than he expected, so he wanted to be prepared. He’d already been in the process of putting it all together when his diagnosis switched to secondary progressive. Now, in his time of need, he was extremely glad for his forethought.

He would be walking again, his doctors had told him. Maybe in less than a week, if he properly rested his sprain and wore a protective boot or covering for his foot fracture. But there may come a day when he falls and, due to the developed weakness in his legs, he doesn’t get back on his feet ever again. He’d mostly come to terms with that emotionally and having a Carla-backed solution in place really helped him accept it.

Connecting the chair to Carla and switching the board’s consciousness to the chair (“It’s just temporary,” he promised his board as she powered down as the chair came to life. “I didn’t think I’d need you to be her yet. But needs must.”) he used his phone to remotely activate the device switch on the servers. 

With the press of a button, Carla awoke in a new form. The lights flickered just once, but after a second the calming cherry blossom pink hue brought the night-dark room to life. 

He patted the chair’s arm and spoke, “Want to go on an adventure, Carla?”

“Shall I call for a ride, Master?” Carla spoke from his phone, because the chair itself didn’t have speakers. 

“Let me figure out how to safely remove this IV and then, yes.”

“Searching for ‘How to safely remove an IV’.”

Kaoru sighed, feeling strangely happy. “Carla, you complete me.”

“Do you want me to call Kojiro?”

Kaoru refused to flush. So Carla recognized Kojiro as a necessity for his “completion.” 

“No,” Kaoru decided after a long moment. “It’ll be a surprise.”

Surprises were actually tiring. Kaoru didn’t really know what he’d been thinking other than that because Kojiro wasn’t legally family, he couldn’t visit outside of regular visiting hours, meaning Kaoru would spend his first night without Kojiro at his side in months. This in-pain and distressed man did not like that. 

Kaoru must have fallen asleep not long after making it to Sia la luce, most disappointingly before he could taste the nice expensive wine, and Kojiro let him sleep. But when he awoke sitting propped up in the distantly familiar bed from Kojiro’s old apartment in the studio above the restaurant, Kojiro lying next to him, carefully not holding him but touching enough that he also stirred awake when Kaoru so much as twitched… he couldn’t regret his actions too much. 

He was immediately shepherded back to the hospital, of course, and chastised by several nurses and his personal neurologist who had apparently been called and requested to assess him in person and walked into an empty hospital room. 

Kojiro left him to their mercies with a smirk and a “what can you do” shrug, but Kaoru let him leave without argument. His trouble-patient phase was done. Now he would rest and heal like he was supposed to. 

He stayed in the hospital over two more nights and then was discharged. Kojiro begrudgingly admitted that having Carla in her new form was helpful because it was fully collapsible and fit neatly into the trunk of Kaoru’s car, which he drove to the hospital to take him home. She was also remote controlled, so Kaoru had no issues getting around his home by himself. 

After settling in at their house, there were stretches of time where Kaoru could feel Kojiro’s gaze on him as he hovered right out of view in case Kaoru needed something. Even though the most he was doing was napping and sending emails to clients apologizing for his absence. 

With Carla assisting his calligraphy work, he might still be able to do some of the simpler commissions, but he would give himself a few days to decide. Or, more so, he was only allowed to do this much work, as mandated by Kojiro who was taking “rest and relaxation” very strictly. 

But still, the gaze Kojiro was leveling him with wasn’t just assessing, but he could see curiosity in his expression. 

Kaoru sighed in annoyance when Kojiro had been sitting and staring at him for five minutes as he cleaned out his inbox. “Kojiro,” he called, snapping the other man to attention. “Do you have a question?”

Kojiro’s mouth opened and then closed and then opened again. “Um.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “In a way. I just realized something.”

Kaoru gestured with his good arm to the room. “Well please, share with the class.”

“You really make detailed plans. Or you must, because…” Kojiro bit his lip and worried at it. Kaoru moved to prompt him to continue, but there was no need. “This entire house… it’s accessible. There’s no bars in the bathroom or anything, but each doorway is wide enough for your chair—Carla—to fit through. Same with the furniture, and the island in the kitchen. There’s a large enough gap between the couch and the wall for you to wheel behind and around. And it’s all on one floor. So when you bought this house and the furniture and fucking built a Carla-able wheelchair… you just amaze me, is all.”

Kaoru annoyance was quickly replaced with flattery. “I just wanted to be prepared. I mean, I didn’t plan for the shit you leave lying around on the floor which impedes my rolling through,” he teased, making Kojiro roll his eyes, “but I knew what eventualities I might face and planned for them.”

“You didn’t plan to save space for my things,” Kojiro said jokingly, a response to Kaoru’s tease. 

“You’re right,” Kaoru answered straightforwardly. “You were something I did not plan for. I couldn’t guarantee I could have you this way in my life, so I planned for only what I knew and not what I wished.”

Kojiro moved from the recliner to the empty seat on the couch next to Kaoru and took his face in his hands. They were warm and sturdy and Kaoru leaned into the grip with his unbandaged side. “Then let’s make those plans together.”

At twenty-seven, Kaoru was a secondary progressive multiple sclerosis sufferer currently glued to a wheelchair because of a psycho with a skateboard. But he was also deeply in love with a man who used to be the boy he met at age six and probably fell in love with in a way back then too. 

There were some things he could plan, and there were some things he couldn’t. He could make his house as accessible to his needs as he needed, but that didn’t mean he could do that for every establishment he would step foot in. He could hire the foremost expert on MS in Japan to consult on his treatments and get him on the newest medicine available, but that wouldn’t stop the eventual and inevitable deterioration of his leg strength. He could build and program an AI that could help him in every aspect of his life, but not even she could help him up off of the floor if he fell. And to think, he was one of the lucky ones who could afford such good treatment. 

But Kojiro was a wild skater and stupid with money and loyal to a fault and the love of his life and definitely, never something he could plan for. Even after twenty years, Kojiro could still surprise him. 

“I suppose—” Kaoru started to say, but Kojiro cut him off with a gentle kiss, wary of the cuts to his jaw and at the corner of his mouth. 

“Wanna see Reki kick Adam’s ass at S tonight?” Kojiro asked after a handful of more kisses. 

“I really, really do,” Kaoru agreed. “But let’s stop by the hospital first. I’ll give Hiromi Carla so he can watch it too. I’m sure it’s not a race he’d want to miss.”

Kojiro’s eyebrows raised to his hairline. “You want to relinquish Carla?”

“Just for a night. So I’ll need you to grab the backup wheelchair in the bedroom closet because I haven’t programmed her so that she can inhabit two big-powering devices at once. I need to transfer her consciousness back into the board before we can go.”

Kojiro pressed a kiss to Kaoru’s forehead which shut him up. “You really do think of everything,” Kojiro cooed.

“Almost,” Kaoru boasted, feeling the complete opposite of numb and cold inside. “Everything but you.”

Seeing right through his confident reply, Kojiro reached for Kaoru’s unraveled ponytail and retied it with patient fingers. “I like being what is left after ‘almost’,” he admitted. 

“Yeah,” Kaoru softly agreed as his hair settled back over his shoulder, Kojiro’s fingers combing through it idly, the bridge of his nose brushing Kaoru’s cheek as he ducked his head to press a kiss to the underside of Kaoru’s jaw. As Kaoru’s breath hitched, he looked forward to Cherry Blossom forcing JOE to wheel him around Crazy Rock all night. He recalled checking the forecast earlier and seeing it was going to rain. Maybe he could get JOE to hold an umbrella over them both too. “After almost is good to me.”