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Tetsu has a secret, and for over a decade he’s kept it buried in his chest between the ribs he broke to make a hiding place and the blood he’s spilled to keep it. It’s the kind of secret that’s only secret at all because he thinks about it so often that the words become a part of his everyday life yet he refuses to say it aloud. The secret rots in his mind in a murky swamp of memory and guilt until every time he remembers the feeling it is more painful than the last.
Oda was the only living soul to hear it. Not so living, anymore, so it’s just Tetsu and his bloody chest again. Soon, it will be no one.
The sledgehammer hurts like a bitch. Though, by the time Kiryu has him on the floor, Tetsu can’t remember as much as he’d like. When he manages to open his eyes again (when had he closed them?) he can’t tell which one opens, or how far. He can barely make out the other man past the dark blurriness crowding in. The room they’re in might as well be hell, for all that Tachibana can see of it. He can’t remember where he is anymore. Heavy, his whole body is so heavy.
He says something. Can’t remember what. Oh, wait. “You have nothing to apologize for, Kiryu-san.” That’s what he said. Good, that’s important. He thinks there’s more he’d like to say, but maybe he’s confusing the nausea rising up his throat with words.
Kiryu’s friend leaves, then Kiryu’s talking about sisters. Xiao Qiao… Tetsu’s dying, he can barely remember what words are supposed to sound like, and yet in the back of his mind, his secret stirs. It awakens with a roar, at the mention of his sister. He can hear it so perfectly, better even than Kiryu, despite the blood pounding in his head.
Selfishly, he wants Xiao Qiao to know. Cruelly, he wants Kiryu to look into his face and hurt for him, one last time. Desperately, Tetsu doesn’t want to die.
Kiryu’s gaze wonders over Tetsu’s broken body. He’s always had an earnest look about him, but now it’s covered by something horrible and twisted. Not cruel, because Tetsu has yet to see this wonderful man fall anywhere close to cruelty, but horrible, nonetheless. His dark gaze roams over Tetsu’s face but doesn’t meet his eyes. Tetsu can’t see the ground, can’t turn his body to see it, either, but he knows that Kiryu’s sitting on his knees in the blood. His white suit might never come clean again. If all that Tetsu amounts to is this grimy puddle of viscera on the floor, at the very least he hopes that he stains.
“Kiryu-san,” Tetsu says, and their eyes meet, “I don’t want to do this anymore.” A smile struggles forward, and his lip splits. “I want to go home.”
There’s a hitch of breath – maybe Kiryu’s, maybe Tetsu’s. This close, as they breathe the same air, does the difference really matter? His brain might be leaking from his head, so it doesn’t feel so hard to release his secret, too. The hiding place in his chest is empty. Not cold, though, because Kiryu’s chest is warm where it presses to him.
Kiryu’s horrible, puppy-dog expression doesn’t change. Is it too much to imagine acceptance, in those eyes? The grief is there; vindictive pleasure strikes Tetsu though it’s no where near as passionate as he might have managed, once.
Oda never understood. He thought he could make a home for Tetsu, if only inside his own body. He’d made the shacks they’d stolen away in as nice as they could be, made the luxury apartments feel something like a safe place to rest. And when all of that fell through (because it always did) and they were left with nothing but the streets and bloody fists, Oda had carved out a hole in his own chest, just the right size to house Tetsu, forever. He’d guided Tetsu there with gentle hands and bruising kisses, with fights fought on his behalf and an offering of everything, even his body, if Tetsu wanted it, and Testu never wanted it, not even when he thought Oda was his.
Deep in his soul, home will only ever be two people – one is dead, and the other he left in China. To make a home here he’d have to leave Mom and Xiao Qiao behind and even though he’s left them in all the ways that matter and he’s abandoned his name, and his language, and the right to call himself family, in the end he will always want to be home.
“Yeah,” Kiryu says, voice gruff, “me too.”
I want, I want I want I want- Tetsu’s half out of his mind and the half that’s gone will never return and he can’t keep his thoughts together but he has one working hand so he grabs at Kiryu’s collar and brings the other man as close to his face as he can manage into a horrible, bloody, desperate kiss.
All Tetsu can taste is the salty bite of his own blood in his mouth – for Kiryu, it must be the worst kiss he’s ever had. Chaste isn’t the right word, because Tetsu doesn’t have the energy for anything more but he wants, to, god he wants to, so he gives it his all to try. Kiryu takes the clumsy attempts and lets Tetsu into his open mouth, turns the kiss into something that’s almost romantic, almost beautiful.
Even though it’s nothing passionate, or even intimate, after a few seconds the lack of air gets to Tetsu and he coughs up a tablespoon of blood right onto Kiryu’s face, some of it into his mouth. If he had the life left for it, he’d laugh. Instead, he presses their lips together one last time. This time Kiryu has to do most of the work, because Tetsu can’t even lift his head. He probably still tastes like blood, and he can barely keeps his lips together. An even worse kiss than the first.
There’s solace, there, and Testu rests in it as he slumps back into Kiryu’s arms. He can’t be the first, because he’d found Kiryu too late and at the wrong time. He can’t be the last, because there are so many others with more time than the measly seconds Tetsu can feel he has left. Could maybe be the best, if he’d been more courageous. But all he has is this, and Tetsu thinks he can settle for being the worst. Maybe Kiryu will think of him with every kiss from now on – wow, he’ll think, I can’t believe how bad that kiss with Tachibana-san was. He’ll chase the taste of Tetsu’s blood away with sweeter people and better kisses, but the horrible memory will always remain.
That last kiss ends - Tetsu’s best, Kiryu’s worst. And they’ll both be thinking about it, forever.