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Akihiko wakes up alone with a fifty-pound weight in his chest and an ache in his shoulder. Akihiko gets up anyway because it’s not the first time he’s felt the fifty-pound weight and he wakes up with aches no matter what he does. He slips back into his sweatpants — abandoned to the floor last night — and walks his way to the kitchen. The ache gets worse with each step.
—
Shinjiro wakes up with Aki out cold in his dorm room bed. Akihiko had kept his shirt on overnight but his sweats were still designated to the floor. Aki would probably say he got too warm. Shinjiro is tempted to stay and hold him, he knows that Aki would like that.
Shinjiro gets up anyway.
—
Akihiko talks nonstop when they’re together. He tells him about his friends, Mitsuru, school, boxing. Shinjiro is proud of him. He's come a long way.
—
Shinjiro hears every word spoken to him trapped in a coma. He’s in a strange dream state; the voices float around him.
Akihiko’s voice is constant. He keeps talking to Shinjiro nonstop, like he always has.
Sometimes, his voice sounds raspy and tired. He still does not stop.
He hears Mitsuru tell Akihiko that he’s running himself ragged; Shinjiro can’t help but agree, though he can’t vocalise his agreement. Akihiko doesn’t relent though. As graduation approaches his voice becomes weaker and weaker.
there’s one day where Akihiko’s voice breaks and his tears seep through. it is just a moment, but Shinji won’t forget it.
He wakes up two days later.
—
Akihiko is hitting his punching bag when his phone rings. He ignores it; whoever phoned him can wait until he’s finished two more reps. The cell phone rings again, not enough time for whoever it is on the other end to leave him a message for later. Akihiko signs, annoyed, and picks up.
“Akihiko,” it’s Mitsuru's voice on the other end. She sounds unusually fraught, so unlike her usual composed self. “Akihiko. Are you sitting down right now?”
he blinks, “… no… Mitsuru, is everything alright?” It’s a tentative ask, sometimes she prefers not to answer at all when someone asks her if she’s alright.
“It's Shinjiro. He’s awake, at the hospital.”
Every single piece of background noise fades, leaving only an intense ringing in Akihiko’s skull. He’s frozen to the spot; time has stopped moving all at once. He hangs up without thinking about it, throws his cell onto the bedspread and slams his right fist into his bag with as much force as he can possibly muster. Pain erupts through his tendons and bones almost immediately, and the ambient noise of existing returns. Akihiko’s knees bend and he slams into the wooden floor of the dorm.
He sits there holding his right hand and staring at the white plaster on the wall.
“Akihiko-senpai?” Ken's voice comes through the door, “we heard a slam from downstairs, are you alright?”
This motivates Akihiko to move and open his door. Ken stares at him, probably taking in his hundred yard stare and the bruising on his hand.
“I'm going to the hospital.” Akihiko says with certainty. He thinks about telling Ken why. part of him even wants to, they’ve gotten so close and find each other comforting. The ugly part of him wants to be selfish — he wants Shinji all to himself until the rest of the dorm learns that he’s woken up. He's sure that Mitsuru told him first, knew that he wanted to know first and visit Shinji as soon as possible.
Another set of feet rush up the stairs.
“Akihiko-senpai!!! Guess what!” Junpei’s voice. “Aragaki-san woke up! Mitsuru just phoned. She asked us to check on you… but Ken's here and beat us to it!”
Akihiko looks towards Junpei and then towards Ken. The kids' eyes are wide and disbelieving. you are such an asshole, Akihiko thinks to himself. Ken looks up at him carefully, as if gauging what to say.
“Go see him, Akihiko-senpai. I'll come with Yukari-san and Junpei later.” Ken smiles gently. He's too smart for his age. Akihiko is always wondering how this kid got so wise. He throws his vest over top of his t-shirt, grabs his cell from where he threw it onto the bedspread, and takes off for the train station.
The ride to the hospital is quiet. Akihiko's sprained hand pulses. his knee bobs up and down, restless. He stares out the window.
—
At the hospital, Akihiko freezes at the door to Shinjiro's room. his eyes are wide, a deer in headlights. Mitsuru pretends she doesn’t notice until he’s been frozen in place for two minutes. She takes his sprained hand, gently. He squeezes hers. The pain brings him down from his panic, leaving it a background screech. He can hear it, but he can move through it.
He slides open the hospital door.
—
Shinji moves into Akihiko's apartment after the dorms are vacated and his discharge paperwork has been completed by the Kirijo Group. He has physiotherapy twice a week to regain muscle strength and exercises he’s prescribed at home to keep up the necessary training. Akihiko is thrilled; Shinji is decidedly less so.
The apartment is barren, Akihiko having just moved a week prior. the moving boxes — although there aren’t many — are still scattered around the space. Akihiko’s punching bag is in the corner of the living room, as well as a futon that looks old and scratchy. Akihiko insists that it’s not so bad, and he is objectively correct. Shinji would love to liven the place up a little, even add another scratchy futon to have guests over. Aki seems non-committal whenever Shinjiro wants to go out, eat together, or interact in any way outside of doing Shinjiro’s physical therapy every morning together. Akihiko is a creature who thrives off routine — always has and likely always will. Shinji can’t help but notice his eating habits, or lack thereof; Aki starts each day with a protein drink & then leaves the apartment for his college classes. He claims he picks something up on his way home for dinner. Shinji doesn’t believe him, but doesn’t push the issue; he’s only just started eating solids again after all. What Shinjiro knows for fact is that Akihiko looks bad, rougher around the edges than Shinjiro has ever seen him.
The first person to catch on to this Akihiko-related nonsense is Mitsuru. Shinjiro isn’t surprised — she knows Aki well and can read him easily. She phones Shinjiro, during the afternoon when Akihiko is out of the apartment. Shinjiro just asks her to come over the next day.
Mitsuru “visits” the apartment as she promised.
A knock at the door stops Shinjiro's morning physiotherapy routine. Akihiko is still doing it with him, each morning like clockwork. It’s the only time the two of them talk and banter like they did before.
“Shinjiro, Akihiko. it’s good to see you." Mitsuru greets in her matter-of-fact tone.
“Mitsuru! why are you here?” Akihiko’s voice is bright but has an odd undertone that Shinjiro can’t quite place. it’s not quite fear, maybe trepidation? He shelves that thought for later. Now, Mitsuru is here and Shinjiro can perhaps find a way to help Akihiko.
Shinjiro nods and leads her inside their apartment. the apartment rather than home because neither Akihiko nor Shinjiro treat it like a home, more like a place to sleep and eat. However much eating and sleeping Aki is actually doing is debatable if you ask Shinjiro. Everything is tidy—too tidy for two 18-year-old men for six months in an apartment together. It’s scarce, if Shinjiro were to choose a word. Like neither of them were anticipating having this kind of stability for such a long time.
They sit on the futon (Mitsuru sits on the futon, Akihiko takes the floor and Shinji stands in the entrance to the kitchen) and talk idly. Akihiko seems to relax, apparently not suspecting Mitsuru of coming over to fix his poor life management skills or whatever. He seems genuinely happy to see her.
“Akihiko, would you mind joining me for a walk? I'm hoping to receive your guidance on something.”
Shinjiro watches Aki startle and narrow his eyes, before deliberately relaxing his shoulders and taking a deep breath.
“Sure!” he answers. His voice isn’t tight, but sounds like he’s had to force it open to accept Mitsuru’s request. He pulls himself up off the floor and grabs their jackets from the coat rack.
—
The walk is fine. He was expecting Mitsuru to call him on his odd behaviour over the past half a year, but she dances around the topic. He’s sure she knows; it’s not like Mitsuru has ever been dumb or unaware. He hopes she doesn’t, knows it’s futile. A couple more minutes pass before Mitsuru bites the bullet.
“Akihiko… What is going on with you and Shinji?” Although her voice is gentle, she keeps walking forward and staring ahead, forcing Akihiko to step in time with her. He shrugs but doesn’t answer.
He's alright. Not good, of course, how could he possibly be good after going through the dark hour, Nyx, losing one of their closest friends and believing he’d lost Shinji all in the span of a couple months? But he’s coping. He has a boxing scholarship, he exercises nearly every day, he has so much more than he ever thought he would. and Shinjiro is with him, which felt impossible in high school when Shinjiro was constantly pushing him away and avoiding any difficult conversation.
Hah. Almost exactly what he himself is doing right now.
He's been quiet for longer than a minute now. Mitsuru blinks slowly. “Well… at least speak to him about it Akihiko. You-” she trails off, “let’s head back.”
She places a hand on Akihiko's shoulder. He accepts it and leans into the touch, resting his chin on her shoulder. He has to bend down, but the comfort is appreciated, as is the gesture. No one knows him quite like Mitsuru and Shinjiro. Maybe Ken will be added to that list later. He's definitely getting there. For now, he just accepts the quiet comfort Mitsuru is offering him. She is non-judgmental, accepting his silence as answer enough. He shuts his eyes, blocking out the Iwatodai street view.
—
Mitsuru drops Akihiko off at the door with one last look that tells him to talk to Shinjiro. She departs and Akihiko unlocks the apartment door.
Shinjiro looks at him. There’s no expectation on his face. He has a bowl of soup in his hand. Akihiko sits down at their tiny kitchen table and waits for him to finish it. He's not hungry, but he can be patient. Shinjiro finishes his soup & puts the bowl in the sink. He turns to Aki, a question on his face. Akihiko asks a question he hasn’t asked in years.
“Shinji, wanna spar with me for a bit?”
Shinjiro doesn’t even have the grace to look surprised, like he knew what Aki was going to ask. He also knows that Akihiko could kick his ass halfway across the galaxy if he really wanted to. The coma erased any physical advantage he had over Akihiko.
Shinjiro still accepts Aki’s request. This is more he’s gotten out of his friend in months. They begin in their sparse living room. Shinjiro can still move fast, but can’t seem to land a single hit on Akihiko, no matter how hard he tries. Akihiko can’t seem to land a hit either, and each time Shinji misses, he becomes looser, less concerned about his technique, letting his body go and move for him. His uppercuts become jagged and loose. It’s not dissimilar to when they were young—when Shinjiro first taught him how to throw a punch.
Shinjiro spots a weak spot—Akihiko isn’t guarding his left side—and goes for it with whatever strength he can muster. Akihiko stumbles but stays on his feet.
“Fuckin’ finally,” Akihiko coughs, resetting his stance. “You can hit harder than that, Shinji.”
Not anymore, asshole, Shinjiro thinks; he brings his arms back up to guard himself from whatever Akihiko is going to do next. He’s not ready for Aki to duck underneath his arms and go for his right ribcage. It knocks him flat on his ass. For once, Akihiko towers over Shinjiro. He doesn’t look proud of himself; his shoulders have gone slack, and his arms are limp by his sides. There’s a tremor in his shoulders, and when Shinjiro finally looks at his face, he sees tears in Aki’s eyes.
Oh fuck, is the next thought that crosses Shinjiro’s mind. He’s not entirely surprised — something like this has been building for months at this point. Shinjiro knows him; he’s always been able to tell when Aki is holding something back. Shinjiro takes a deep breath and pushes himself to his feet. Akihiko is still frozen to the spot, but he’s lowered his head and covered his eyes with his hands.
“Okay Aki. Let’s actually sit on the goddamn futon for once, alright?” Shinjiro offers gently. Akihiko nods and lets Shinji move him to a seated position.
“What the fuck was that?” Akihiko shrugs and looks resolutely towards a corner of the room where a spider is definitely living. He’s paying attention to keeping his hands on his lap and trying to stop crying. Only one is actually happening. The worst part is this: Shinjiro just waits for him to answer. He doesn’t press Akihiko; just lets him exist in his space until he decides to share or walk away. Akihiko wants to walk away, leave it be, and keep their weird routine afloat, but he owes Shinji an answer. Beating up your best friend and then crying when he isn’t able to beat you up is… not how emotions are supposed to be communicated. He can feel his eyes burning with more tears. Goddammit. Mitsuru told him to talk about it. Akihiko isn’t sure what it is.
“You should’ve… you should’ve kicked my ass-” Akihiko chokes out, “for what I just tried to pull with you.”
“What are you talking about..?”
“You… you’ve always knocked some sorta sense into me when I’m acting like an idiot… so…” Akihiko flails. He’s not really sure what he himself is trying to get at here. He just wants Shinji to punch him and tell him to get it together. He and Shinji are the same but completely different.
“You were waiting for me to tell you to eat your fucking vegetables? Akihiko.” Shinjiro hangs his head. Akihiko feels the disappointment radiating from him. Shinji reaches an arm across the back of Akihiko’s shoulders and pulls Akihiko towards him. He hesitantly lets himself relax.
“Next time… when you want to have a stupid sparring match instead of talking,” Shinjiro says softly, “we can just hug it out instead. I can’t fight anymore, not like I used to. If that’s gonna fuck with your head, we can just do this.”
Akihiko hides his face in Shinjiro’s shoulder. He wishes he could make Shinji understand whatever the hell is happening in his head without having to say it out loud. For now, this is enough.
__
A couple days later, they’re eating dinner together on the small futon. They’ve managed to squish together so both of them can sit on it. It’s a tight fit, but not entirely uncomfortable. Akihiko enjoys being close to Shinji; he’s real and tangible, and Akihiko doesn’t have to worry about him leaving. He’s also a great cook. Tonight, they’re eating caesar salad. Akihiko wants to tell Shinji how much he loves him. He can’t get the words out. He bumps his shoulder into Shinjiro’s instead.
__
“I’ve been talking with Ken recently,” Shinjiro says nonchalantly one afternoon over lunch. Akihiko cocks his head.
“Ken’s been over?”
“I do leave the apartment sometimes,” Shinjiro responds drily. “He’s finished elementary school now. Heading into middle school. He won’t outright say it, but he doesn’t really wanna be in the dorms again.”
“So…?”
“He could come live here. With us.”
“Would Ken even like that?”
“... He’s mentioned it to Mitsuru already.”
Akihiko ponders that for a second. “Why wouldn’t he just ask me?”
“Aki.” Shinjiro shoots him an even stare, “You haven’t been the most accessible person lately. Ken didn’t want to bother you with anything else.”
There’s no response to this, just Akihiko cocking his head to the side. He wonders if he’s been unreachable to Yukari and Junpei as well. He’s frustrated with himself but can’t pinpoint why; it’s not like he was trying to push away his friends. Ken is the last person he’d try to push away, considering how close they became while Shinji was in the hospital. Akihiko lets out a huff and makes a beeline for the door.
“I’m going out for a bit.”
Shinjiro sighs. You can’t win ‘em all.
__
Ken moves in a week before the new term at Gekkoukan begins. He brings Koromaru with him, who is happy to explore and cuddle like always. The issue that comes with Ken moving in is there only being two bedrooms in the apartment. Shinjiro doesn’t even offer Ken his room; just moves all his things into the barren living room and tells Akihiko he’ll just sleep there. Akihiko just stares at him before picking up Shinjiro’s box of things and moving it into his own room.
“We can share. Not like we haven’t done it before.”
They help Ken unpack his things for the next day or so. He doesn’t have a lot, but Shinjiro insisted on getting him a desk and a bookshelf. They (Akihiko and Shinjiro) spend a few hours assembling the aforementioned desk and bookshelf whilst Ken watches from the sidelines. He’s being a martyr, but Akihiko knows the kid really does appreciate it.
They spend their first night as a household watching movies and eating takoyaki. Ken and Koromaru have fallen asleep on the futon, while Shinji and Akihiko are relegated to the floor. Despite the hardwood digging into his ass, it’s peaceful. Akihiko feels a surge of affection for the people he’s found himself with, for the stability and peace he never thought would be possible. It’s overwhelming and exhilarating at the same time. He feels the urge to get up and move—go on a run or to the gym—to let the feeling subside. Instead, he shoves himself into Shinji’s chest and wraps his arms around his shoulders and upper back. He lets himself breathe in Shinji’s familiar scent. Maybe even lets out a few tears. Shinjiro doesn’t say anything; just lets it happen. His hands move comfortingly up and down Akihiko’s back.
They’re not sure how long they stay like that, holding each other. Eventually, they break apart, rouse Ken, and make sure the kid gets to sleep in his own bed instead of on their singular shitty futon.
Shinjiro and Akihiko fall asleep together and wake up together to Koromaru whining at their door and the sound of Ken’s laughter.