Chapter Text
It was always the same dream. Over and over. Johnny wasn’t strong enough to stop Mileena. He keeps hearing Kenshi’s scream— God that scream. Johnny’s been around lots of horrors in his life, but nothing had shaken him to his core quite like Kenshi’s guttural, horrific screams as Mileena gouged his eyes from his head.
He’d always wake up when the scream stopped, covered in sweat, panting. He was cursing at himself that he wasn’t good enough to stop Kenshi from being mutilated. It should have been him, he should’ve been the one who couldn’t see. It would make more sense. Kenshi was an important man with actual goals. Johnny was just… well, Johnny was a washed-up actor riding the coattails of a person he used to be.
Johnny woke up again, soaked in sweat, practically tearing his hair out in frustration. While the dream itself was terrifying, Johnny realized that he was beginning to forget what Kenshi’s voice sounded like.
It had been a while since they’d talked. Kenshi was busy, or at least Johnny assumed he was busy, and Johnny was too scared to be the one to call.
But forgetting his friend’s voice… Johnny couldn’t let that happen. Kenshi was too important in his life.
What kind of a shitty person forgets their friend's voice? Kenshi probably remembers everything about Johnny, and he doesn’t have the privilege of refreshing his memory of Johnny’s face.
He rubbed his eyes, picking up his phone. The bright shine made him squint, but he could still make out his background: Kung Lao, Raiden, Kenshi, and He during training. When Kenshi could still see.
Before Johnny fucked up.
That photo was supposed to be cheerful–reminding Johnny of his fondest memories of the unlikely friends he had made. But now it just served as a bitter reminder of how Johnny had ruined Kenshi’s life.
He opened his phone, dialing Kenshi’s number while saying it out loud. What had Kenshi said?
“Only if you’re dying, Cage!”
Or something to that effect.
He hit the green call button, holding his breath as it rang once… twice…
“Hello?” The voice on the other end said.
“Hey, Kenshi.” Johnny breathed a sigh of relief. There it was. His friend’s voice sounded so comforting to him. Like a wash of warmth over him.
“Why are you calling me right now? It’s 2 AM.” Kenshi actually sounded concerned.
Johnny didn’t want to lie, but he definitely didn’t want to tell Kenshi the truth. How would he tell his friend that he forgot the sound of his voice and needed to refresh his memory? That’s just awkward.
“I… just couldn’t sleep,” Johnny answered slowly. “Haven’t been able to in a while, thought maybe you could tell me one of your boring stories.” He tried to lighten the conversation
Kenshi laughed softly, but his tone was concerned. “You haven’t been sleeping well?”
“No, but it’s okay.”
“Bad dreams?” Kenshi asked.
“Uh… yeah, actually.” Johnny bit the inside of his cheek. Shit, Kenshi was probably gonna laugh at him.
There was a silence, and Johnny was prepared for the worst.
But then: “Yeah, me too.”
Johnny let out an almost audible sigh. But then just as his anxiety was wavering, he said the most stupid thing he could think of.
“Do you maybe wanna come over and not sleep? We could watch movies.”
JOHNATHAN CARLTON WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU THINKING?
“Sure, that sounds like fun,” Kenshi responded. “See you in a few then, Cage?”
“Uh, yeah.” And then he hung up.
Johnny ran his fingers through his hair. He was usually so confident, but Kenshi made him… nervous. He couldn’t quite place it. Kenshi made him say dumb shit and do even dumber shit. That’s why he was always annoying the swordsman—he physically couldn’t help it.
He got out of bed, immediately shivering. His house was a lot colder now. He told himself it was some metaphor. When Cris was there, she kept it warm. Now, it was frigid. There was no one for Johnny to come home to and talk to. So it was always freezing. So much so that Johnny called his mansion “The World’s Loneliest Icebox.”
Johnny rubbed his shoulders to warm himself up, but it was pretty much futile. As he began prepping for Kenshi’s visit, he made sure to get lots of alcohol. Might as well have a good time, right?
By the time Kenshi was at his door, Johnny had gotten the place pretty much ready for visitors. Or, rather, visitor. He heard the knock on his door and immediately sprang to action.
Alright Johnny, smooth joke, do something funny. Or at least something.
He opened it, smiling at his friend.
“Wow, THE Kenshi Takahashi at my door? What are the odds?” He spoke in a sarcastic tone.
“You asked me here, Johnny,” Kenshi responded, giving him no emotion in response.
“Sure, buddy, whatever. Let’s get drunk and watch movies.” Johnny rolled his eyes. Why did Kenshi have to bring up that he wanted Kenshi to come over? He DID, but why did Kenshi have to bring it up? Not cool.
“Who said we were getting drunk?” Kenshi asked as he stepped past the threshold of Cage Mansion. The two began walking together and Johnny shrugged.
“Would you rather watch old slasher flicks with me drunk or have me talk through the entirety of every film?”
“God, I forgot how much of a cinephile you were,” Kenshi smiled. “I would rather you be drunk if it means you don’t talk as much.”
“See? So my idea is perfect, as usual.” Johnny ran his fingers through his hair again. Nervous habit.
Johnny led the swordsman to his at-home theater, making jokes along the way.
“See, if you were any FUN, we could’ve watched a movie together when you broke into my house.”
“You know I wasn’t here for you, Johnny. I was here for Sento.”
“But imagine how KILLER it would be! Kenshi Takahashi, the serious swordsman, has a fun movie night with the unlikeliest of friends, Johnny freaking Cage. They could make a movie about that.”
“No one would make a movie of two men watching a movie.”
“You’d be surprised.” Johnny cocked his head to the side, thinking. “Anyways, let’s get drunk and watch dumb 80’s flicks!”
A wiser man would realize that since Kenshi is blind he can not technically watch movies. Johnny Cage is not a wiser man. But Kenshi held his tongue, trying not to sour a positive night with his friend. It was not the time to bring up his blindness.
Johnny popped open a bottle, sitting in one of the large seats. Drinking straight from it, his face twitched slightly.
Kenshi didn’t drink that much. He didn’t need to. He liked being around Johnny. Drunk Johnny wasn’t bad either. He talked less and was more enthralled with the films presented. Sometimes Johnny would give Kenshi a rundown of the scene, or the actors and actresses, so Kenshi could visualize it better.
When the last film ended, Johnny started talking again.
“I gotta be honest, Ken,” Johnny slurred. “I’m so lonely.”
“Why?”
“I miss you guys. It’s been a fuckin’ mess. I feel bad all the time. Cris is gone, and I’ll never love again. Fuck, I just wish there was someone here to just BE with me, y’know?”
Kenshi thinks for a moment. “I could be with you,” He mutters just loud enough for Johnny to hear. “For a little.”
Kenshi could hear an audible smile in Johnny’s voice. “Really? You’d do that?”
“You need support, Johnny, and I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t offer support in your time of need,” Kenshi said more confidently.
“Thank you, Kenshi.” Johnny’s voice sounds shaky now.
“Are you… crying?’
“No! I’m not! I’m just tearing up!” Johnny seems like he’s laughing and crying. “You’re just the best friend ever! ”
In a thought that Kenshi seemed to have many times, he wished he could see the look on Johnny Cage’s face.