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The sound of Akito’s body hitting the pavement is akin to the sound that’s probably made when you throw a mattress directly in front of a bullet train. That is to say, much softer than you’d think, but also still incredibly painful.
Toya, stunned by both the fact that his best friend just collapsed and also the sound that was produced by said collapse, is not the first one to rush and see if Akito’s okay. Kohane is, dropping to her knees and shrieking out Akito’s name with absolute alarm. “Shinonome-kun!” She sounds horrified. “Are you okay?!”
“Grfng.” Akito groans in response, a hazy noise that snaps Toya out of the fog of sheer confusion that he had been lost in. In its absence is a thick knot of panic, tight and painful and suffocating.
“Akito,” Toya chokes out, barely louder than a breath, his own panic drowning out his voice. He stumbles over, hands shaking by his sides. “Akito, what-“
Akito blinks, turning his head to face Toya. He’s still lying on the ground, head now resting on Kohane’s lap. “Oh,” Akito says vaguely, eyes bleary. He looks far away, but with every blink his gaze gets clearer. “Toya, ‘m… okay…”
Toya’s hands ball into fists. “What do you mean-“
Behind them, a scoff. “Oh, well would you look. At. That.” An spits, derisive and disgusted. When Toya turns to look at her—a near impossible feat, he doesn’t want to take his eyes off Akito, can’t risk it at all—she’s wearing a sneer that stretches her face to its limits with the force of her disgust.
On the ground, Akito bristles. “Don’t you start, Shiraishi-“
“Behold! Four-Jackets Fuckhead,” An announces, with all flair of a carnival barker, if a carnival only advertised somewhat vaguely teenager shaped lumps in random parks. Despite her derision, she still manages to sound concerned. “A name given on account of his general fuck-headedness, and his four fucking jackets.”
“I’m only wearing three, you asshole.” Akito protests. Or at least, that’s what Toya assumes. The words come out so slurred that it’s almost impossible to make out.
“In thirty degree weather!” An snaps back, and it’s then that Toya stops freaking out so much.
“Akito,” he starts, very slowly. Akito goes completely still. “Did you get heatstroke?”
It’s a redundant question. Toya thinks back to the first aid book that he read, just in case, and about the two page spread dedicated to treating heatstroke. Akito looks like he belongs in that book, in the middle of that spread. He’s flushed a deep, ruddy red, his eyes are hazy, he’s practically pouring sweat.
“…no?” He says after a moment. A very long moment.
Still cradling his head, Kohane makes a soft noise of concern. “Shinonome-kun,” she whimpers, and Toya can physically see Akito break.
“It’s not that bad,” Akito sighs, attempting to prop himself up on shaking arms. He’s semi-successful, freeing himself from Kohane but almost face-planting in the process. Toya barely manages to catch him in time, rushing forwards to catch him before he goes toppling to the ground.
“Akito-!”
“Woah.” Akito huffs, almost a laugh. He rests his head on Toya’s shoulder. His breath comes short and laboured. Like every inhale takes effort, and every exhale twice that. “Thanks, Toya.”
An makes a noise that’s close to a growl, unhappy and irritated. “I don’t think he has heat stroke yet.” She assesses, squatting down to press the back of her hand to Akito’s head, ignoring the way he startles at her touch. “Definitely heat exhaustion though.”
“Which’ll turn into heat stroke if we don’t do something immediately.” Toya finishes. He looks at An. An looks back. Her jaw is set.
Between them, still a crumpled mess on the floor, Akito grumbles, “This is humiliating.”
Kohane makes a soothing noise. “It’s okay, Shinonome-kun.” She murmurs, gentle and kind. “It’ll all be okay.”
“I’m not dying!”
An claps her hands, a decisive sound. “Kohane, you’re coming with me.” She declares. “We’re going to run and get some cold drinks, ice cream, and cooling patches from the convenience store. And Toya,” she nods solemnly. Toya is reminded of the fantasy novels that he’s read, where powerful kings give quests to the budding and bright eyed hero. “I leave Akito in your care.”
Toya swallows, exhaling a breath that’s short and sharp. “I’ll keep him safe.”
Akito slaps his palms over his face. “You guys fucking suck.” He announces, but doesn’t protest. He’s clearly given up, not bothering to move or to fight or to even complain as they busy themselves around his limp form. The most he does is offer a half-hearted wave to Kohane and An as they set off in search of cold treats, and yelp like a kicked dog when Toya tries to carry him to shade.
“What the fuck!?” Akito squawks, startled and offended. “What are you doing!?”
Toya blinks, arms wrapped around Akito’s waist. It’s very soft, what with all the fabric protecting it. “I thought that you’d be having trouble walking.” He replies. “Because of, y’know, the heat exhaustion. That you gave yourself.”
Akito smacks Toya’s shoulder hard , scowling deeply. “Let me lean on your shoulder then, don’t carry me like some kind of damsel in distress!” Neither of them comment on the fact that Akito can’t seem to keep his feet steady beneath himself.
When Toya sneaks a glance at Akito’s face, he finds an expression of pure frustration.
He tightens his grip. Lets Akito brace more weight on his shoulders. “C’mon, partner.” He mumbles, willing himself to remain steady, the same way that Akito has always been for him. “Let’s get you fixed up.”
“It’s just heat exhaustion.” Akito sighs, but he lets himself be led away.
The park that they normally practice in is somewhat sheltered from the breeze, nestled between a few solid blocks of buildings. It’s great around fall, when the evenings start to get colder and they’re in desperate need for some warmth. But Toya checked the weather this morning. It’s at least twenty-five degrees right now, at noon on a blazing August day.
“Careful.” Akito mumbles, lowering himself to one of the benches on shaky legs. “You’re going to overheat too if you think any harder.” He tips his head back and rests it against the brick wall, not looking away from Toya as he does. A droplet of sweat catches on his chin. Akito grimaces and rubs it away. His hands are slightly scraped from the fall, but they’re mostly okay; fingers still long and calloused, nails neatly trimmed, broad palms flexing with the movement–
Toya blinks. “Um,” he starts, mouth suddenly much drier than it was a minute ago. “It’s nothing.”
“Yeah?” Akito asks, teasing, eyes narrowed with something lazy and fond. It’s a look he likes to give Toya in moments like these. When they’re alone, when Toya is thinking about something deeply, when there’s a silence that stretches too long. He almost always comes back to the moment to find that gaze directed his way. It’s always made him feel this way, off-kilter and unsure and suddenly nervous. “Cause I swear I saw some steam coming out of your ears.”
The curl of his lip is small, but something about it makes Toya’s palms flex. “No smart talk from the guy wearing three jackets in August.” He warns, but Akito just snickers, eyes still warm in a way that almost feels suffocating. Another layer of heat on an already sweltering day. Toya feels as though he might be burnt alive. “Actually, we should probably get you out of those jackets.”
Akito goes stiff. “An and Kohane will be back soon.” He protests. “Do we really need to, I mean, it’s not that- ”
“This is literally how you’re supposed to treat heat exhaustion.” Toya deadpans back, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Do you really want An to come back here and see you still wearing three jackets? She’ll rip you apart.”
Briefly, Akito’s entire face twists, as if he’s eaten an entire lemon. It lasts maybe ten seconds before he sighs, long and weary. “Fine.” He grumbles. “You win.”
Toya feels himself smile. “Of course I–” He starts, smug and certain, smile dropping off his face and the words dying on his tongue the moment that Akito shrugs off his outermost layer. He’s known Akito for what feels like forever, at this point. They’ve been best friends for years. But something about this visual; Akito, reaching back to tug his sweater off by the hood, the way it catches on his shirt and rides up to reveal the barest strip of skin, the way he exhales as he pulls the fabric forwards and over his head–
“Fuck!” The plain white t-shirt falls back down. The hoodie stays where it is, pulled over Akito’s head. “Toya. Toya, I think–”
Toya valiantly tries to bite back his laughter. “Are you stuck?” He asks, trying his best to sound understanding. He giggles his way through half the sentence. “Akito–”
“Shut the fuck up.” Akito snaps, writhing in place, still trapped in the fabric. “I can’t let An see me like this, she’ll never let me live it down, stop laughing–!”
“S-sorry-” Toya wheezes, doubled over and bracing himself on his knees. He feels like he could throw up from how hard he’s laughing.
Akito sighs, long and despairing. “I hate you.” He says, absolutely sincere, and all it does is make Toya laugh harder.
Eventually, they get the sweater off. It takes some effort, and more than a few curse words, and Toya dissolves into hysterics again, but they manage. They celebrate their victory in silence, sitting on the bench, passing a half empty bottle of water between them. “What’s taking An and Kohane so long?” Akito asks. He looks a lot better already, clarity in his eyes and strength in his grip. He’s still flushed, but his face isn’t that concerning shade of crimson.
“The convenience store is a bit of a walk.” Toya replies. Akito hums a response. They sit in silence a moment longer. Akito’s leg bounces, the plastic ends of his shoelaces clicking against the ground in an uneven rhythm.
“Hey, Toya.” He says after a moment.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.” Said simply, clearly. As if it’s the easiest thing in the world. Toya turns to look at him. Finds Akito already looking back. Eyes clear and honest and open. The collar of his t-shirt hangs low, exposing Akito’s collarbones. A droplet of sweat has settled there.
Toya tears his eyes away. “Yeah.” He replies, slightly hoarse, taking a sip of water.
They’re sitting in the shade, protected from the sun’s unrelenting rays. The back of Toya’s neck burns regardless.
It’s hot. Toya thinks. He takes another sip.