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Johnny worried for Kenshi. How could he not?
He went from having a chance to gain status in his family, a chance to save his family, to being blinded in a horrid accident and unable to get around without help. Johnny truly thought, at least for a time, that Kenshi was going to die. It was that bad.
And he couldn’t really shake that worry, either, no matter what he told himself.
In their overnight home in Outworld, Kenshi lingered on the edge of their tiny room. He sat on the floor, his legs crossed, and he was turned away from Johnny. The room was shared between them at the request of Liu Kang.
He told Johnny privately that he was likely the only one that Kenshi would talk to. “He is in a difficult place,” he told him, “but you have the remarkable ability to brighten any spirit.”
Johnny hated seeing Kenshi so despondent. Though the pain of his blinding had faded for the most part, in no small part thanks to Liu Kang’s intervention, his mind clearly lingered. He had a certain tension about him, his brow furrowed in thought, and any small smiles he had worn had all but left him.
He was a shell.
Johnny was grateful when Liu Kang brought two cups of tea to their room before he settled in for the night. He knew that neither could make any, what with the lack of amenities in their shared room, but he always felt that it helped him wound down. Johnny thanked him, said goodnight, and shut the door with his foot.
He stepped across the room, and Kenshi turned to look in his direction at the sound of his footsteps. “Liu Kang brought us tea,” he told him. He sat down to his left, his feet by Kenshi’s hips. “Hold out your hands. I’ll give it to you.”
Kenshi paused a moment before reaching out his hands toward Johnny’s voice, palms up. Johnny put his own tea on the floor before grabbing one of Kenshi’s hands and moving his fingers around the side of the cup. Kenshi moved his second hand beneath it once he had his bearings, and he took it entirely from the actor, though Johnny kept his hand lingering below. Just in case.
Kenshi gently felt the edges of the cup with his fingers once he had a grip on it. Once he had a mental bearing of its size, he lifted it to his lips and took a sip. He took a deep breath once he swallowed. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
“Sure thing.”
The pair sat in silence. Johnny finished his tea first and abandoned his cup on the floor. He stretched his legs out in front of him until his knees popped. “Have you had a chance to figure out the room yet?”
Kenshi shook his head. “Not really.”
“I know you like doing that on your own, but if you need a hand, just let me know.”
Kenshi stared in his general direction for several seconds before turning away. “Thank you.”
They sat in silence for a while longer until Kenshi finished the rest of his tea. He gently placed it on the floor, waiting for it to clunk against the wood before pulling his hand away.
Johnny stared at him for several seconds longer before he sighed. “Hey.”
Kenshi turned, his face looking right at him. “Yes?”
“Are you doing okay?”
“How do you think I’m doing, Cage?”
Johnny shrugged, knowing he couldn’t see it and not caring. “I’m not sure. I can only guess, but…I know I want to help.”
“You don’t have to help me. You’re not obligated to do so.”
“I know that. I want to.”
Kenshi’s neutral expression finally cracked, and he was noticeably frowning. “Why?”
Johnny frowned back. He didn’t like how confused Kenshi sounded. “Because we’re friends? And friends care about one another after they go through something fucked up?”
Kenshi contemplated it for several seconds before he sighed. “I’m just thinking about my family.”
“…oh.”
Kenshi didn’t talk much about his family. Johnny knew that they were yakuza, and he knew that Sento was (supposedly) his family’s blade, but that was as far as he went to talk about them. He didn’t even know if they were close.
Johnny wasn’t that close to his own family anymore. He wished he was.
“Do you miss them?” Johnny asked. “It’s been a while since you left.”
“I suppose.” Kenshi shrugged. “But that’s… that’s not exactly what it is.”
“What is it?”
Kenshi propped his chin up with an elbow on his knee. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell them.”
He didn’t need to say anything else. Johnny knew what he meant.
Johnny slid so they sat side by side, their respective left sides touching. Kenshi’s knee was close to Johnny’s thigh. “How do you think they would take it?” he asked.
Kenshi turned toward his knee, almost…surprised by their closeness. He remained how he was sitting all the same.
“Badly,” he said simply. “It’s very unexpected. The goal was to get Sento and get back, but…” His voice lowered to a near whisper. “I don’t know if I can even go back. Not anymore.”
“…why not?”
“I can’t face them like this.” Kenshi gestured his arms toward himself. “I left to show them that I would be able to help us, that I could lead , but all I did was get hurt.”
Kenshi’s voice fell quiet. He froze for a moment before turning his face away from Johnny completely. He didn’t say anything else.
“I don’t think they would hold that against you, Kenshi,” Johnny said seriously. “It’s not like you were doing something stupid. It could have happened to anyone.”
“I know that, but…” Kenshi shook his head, turning back to stare ahead. “I don’t know where I would even begin.”
The silence tore at Johnny’s very being. He didn’t know what to say.
“Have you ever wanted to tell your family something and didn’t know how?” Kenshi asked eventually. “Something you…you were scared to tell them?”
Johnny had an answer.
“Yeah. It’s not as…serious as this, but yeah.”
“Nothing is as serious as this,” Kenshi countered. “What was it?”
“Telling my parents that I wanted to be a theatre major.”
There was a long pause.
Kenshi’s head tilted to the side. “…you went to college?”
“Wh–” Johnny choked on a laugh. “Yes! As a matter of fact, I did.” He leaned back on the palms of his hands. “I did theatre in high school, and I did small community productions. I always wanted to act, even on a small scale. There wasn’t another major on my mind.”
“But you were…scared to tell them?” Kenshi asked. Johnny nodded, even if he couldn’t see it. “I understand apprehensive, but being scared is intense.”
“Because my dad thought it was pointless,” Johnny said simply. “He hated that I did theatre. My mom didn’t care, really, but my dad despised it. Any other career path would have been more acceptable. I knew that he would react…terribly, I’ll say, when I told him. But I had to.”
Kenshi’s frown had a new sadness to it. “How did it go?”
“My mom was fine with it. I expected that much. But my dad…” Johnny laughed, but there was no hint of his typical joy. “His reaction just added to the list of why he was terrible. I’ll leave it at that.”
Just remembering his dad’s reaction made him nauseous.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s fine.” Johnny waved his hand out in front of him, dismissing the concern. “It was a long time ago.”
Johnny wiped his palms across the fabric of his pants. He was sweating. “I knew I had to tell them, even if it scared me. I don’t like keeping secrets, period. I don’t know much about your family, but I think they would want to know that you’re blind. They would probably want to support you, somehow.”
He lifted his hand and rested it on Kenshi’s shoulder. “But I know it’s still scary all the same,” he continued, “because everything is different. The whole family dynamic is going to change. How they talk to you, how they interact with you…it won’t be the same, and it fucking sucks at first. It’s the hardest part, but it gets easier with time.”
He rubbed his thumb across the side of Kenshi’s shoulder without realizing it. It brought comfort to his own racing heart. “What helped me the most was practicing it. Saying it in the mirror, all that. You could rehearse it with me, if you wanted. No pressure.”
Kenshi’s hands began to shake. Johnny didn’t mention it. His hands were probably shaking too.
“If they’re assholes about it, you know you have me to fall back to. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
Johnny didn’t know what Kenshi would have to do to get rid of him.
Neither of them moved for several seconds before Kenshi sniffed. In a flash, he lifted a hand and pulled his blindfold off his face, throwing it aside without trying to aim it in any direction. Johnny watched it land against the wall to Kenshi’s right and slide to the ground. Kenshi scrubbed at one of his eyes with his lower palm, and it was then that Johnny realized that he was crying.
Johnny sat up stiffly and moved his hand down Kenshi’s shoulder to his arm. “Woah, Kenshi, I-I didn’t mean to make you cry!”
“No, no , you–” Kenshi shook his head, gritting his teeth as more tears fell. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re just trying to help me, but a-all I can do is cry–”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, Kenshi,” Johnny interrupted. “You’ve been through so much. I can’t begin to imagine. It’s okay to cry.” He twisted his sitting position so he was facing Kenshi directly. “Can I do anything to help? Find a tissue, leave you be? A hug?”
A single word caused a sob to rip out of Kenshi. “Please, please, I–” His words dissolved into incomprehensible whimpers, punctuated by his attempts to catch his breath. Any other words were lost in the aftermath.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m coming over.”
Johnny reached his arms out and took Kenshi by the shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. Kenshi had barely pressed his cheek to Johnny’s right shoulder before he was shaking with sobs, his eyes squeezed closed. Johnny moved his arms around Kenshi’s body, and one of his hands moved in gentle circles across his back. The exact thing that Johnny would have wanted, were he that upset. He only hoped that it would help.
Neither knew how long they sat there. It could have been hours, and it could have been mere minutes, and neither would know the difference. But after Kenshi’s tears dissipated, and any shaking subsided, they sat in one another’s arms until they were stiff. Even when stiffness set in, neither of them wanted to move.
Kenshi thanked him after a while, his voice nothing more than a whisper. Johnny tightened his hug, held back, and eventually said that Kenshi could come to him whenever he was needed. He wanted to say more, but he didn’t have the words.
Johnny suggested that they share the bed. He didn’t want to let Kenshi go, lest he fall apart and shatter into dust at his feet. Kenshi agreed.
Once in bed, Johnny pressed against Kenshi’s back, his arm draped across his ribs. He shut his eyes and focused on Kenshi’s heartbeat as he drifted off.
If either of them disliked the hand laced in theirs, they didn’t speak up.