Chapter Text
It was unbearable.
He’d never given it enough thought- it was tingling toes and cramps on the elbows- but he was running thirty laps per practice session and more or less abused whatever strength he had across his two arms. He didn’t think it was anything, that the fact that he was short of breath and constantly felt like he was slapped by a bed of needles; he was an athlete- and a good one at that- and different from most athletes he didn’t rely on more… convenient yet phony methods to achieve results. He was proud of what he was and he had his display of trophies and medals to back him up. He was fine. It was normal.
Until one day he couldn’t get up and it was more than just nothing.
It was humiliating.
When it was just his legs he’d tried to put out all of his shame and let his mother guide him to the bathroom. When his arms gave in and he couldn’t swallow food half the time he ate, he’d let his boyfriend feed him and the doctors and nurses do whatever they thought was necessary. But when he couldn’t argue or speak or make the tiniest damn argument to prove a point that he was fine, it was more than he could handle.
It was painful.
It was painful and he just wanted it to end.
It wasn’t the first time that he’d let it escape his lips- involuntarily or not. It was tiring and depressing and frustrating and he saw no end to it and he just wanted to be in peace but for many reasons people—everyone, decided it was in his best interest that they kept him on whatever tubes and suspicious liquid and God knew what else they were shoving into his system just so that he could see another day. Another sunrise and another sunset and another round of stupid, meaningless pain.
He just wanted it to end.
His eyes blurted open when the door skidded. He thought of gracing the unwelcome interruption with a groan but decided it wasn’t worth it. He knew who it was anyway.
“Seii.”
The gentlest voice. The kind, soothing voice that his ears had grown so accustomed to- the one that would’ve wooed him and given his stomach fluttery butterflies had it was a different circumstance.
But it wasn’t.
The young man who’d just entered the room dragged a stool closer to the bed. He sat as he carefully placed a fresh arrangement of flowers on the bedside table, puffing it up before forming a tiny yet content smile.
“How are you feeling?”
He turned to look at the other young man on the bed, the smile on his face grew a slight bit.
God, that smile. How Seiichi wished he could rip it off of his face and watch as his jaw bleed. He was sick of it; the same question, the same gesture, every day and every night. The only little things that made him happy, that used to make him happy, about Kuranosuke’s daily visits was the different, unique flowers he’d brought with him every visit- like a merry burst of colors in Seiichi’s life that was getting duller and narrower each minute, and that Kuranosuke was the only person who’d talk to him about anything that wasn’t his sickness and his probable-but-very-likely doom. But when he’d been in that building in that same room for the longest time and Kuranosuke insisted on being there every single day, even the most perfect lover would eventually run out of things to say- and there were only so many flowers out there that would have made the slightest sense in flower language- presented to a slowly dying patient.
It was getting old. And stupid. Just like the short and miserable bits and pieces of Seiichi’s life that remained. And even those were deteriorating.
But Seiichi’s lack of response wasn’t something new to Kuranosuke, and he’d long learned not to let it offend him.
“I bumped into the nurse in the hallway,” Kuranosuke said, and Seiichi just wanted to yank his hand away from his boyfriend the moment he felt the familiar tender touch. “She said you’re doing great today.”
“I’m still dying.”
It was bitter, dry, and Seiichi knew it didn’t surprise the other man, as he’d heard it come from him a million times or more.
He didn’t have to look to know Kuranosuke was making that face, still, that face that used to push Seiichi to force a smile and hold on to his hand, making pathetic attempts to tell him that he was fine and everything was going to be alright.
Not that it mattered anymore.
“You’re making progress, Seii.”
His voice was hushed and less than convincing, but Seiichi had been long gone from caring.
“I know it’s slow and you think it doesn’t mean anything. But it does. Anything means something. You being alive means everything to me—“
“Just shut up, Shiraishi.”
The following silence was piercing. Seiichi almost immediately felt guilty for dismissing him like that. He knew he didn’t mean to hurt him, he never did, and he knew he never would. Seiichi just wished Kuranosuke would stop being so nice- would stop spoiling him rotten and catering to everything Seiichi asked for and never once stopped him when he’d said words that hurt too much. Kuranosuke didn’t deserve this. He was far, too good for a dying boyfriend who couldn’t even at least pretend that he wanted to live.
Move on. Just move on.
Yet the words never made it to his lips.
“It’s Valentine’s in two weeks.”
There was an inaudible tremor in Kuranosuke’s voice, something one would completely miss if they hadn’t been close, hadn’t been intimate enough.
“I was thinking of taking you to dinner.”
“I can’t even take a leak on my own,” Seiichi scoffed.
“We can do it here.” Kuranosuke’s grip on his hand tightened. Seiichi had to work not to wince. “Your doctor gave me an okay. It’ll be just the two of us. I’ll make your favorite.”
Another scoff. This time with an aggressive eyeroll. “That is if I even make it two weeks.”
“You will.”
He brought Seiichi’s hand closer to himself, giving a warm peck against the back of his palm.
“I know you will.”
“How do you know?”
Kuranosuke stared at him. “Because I believe in you.”
This time Seiichi really did pull his hand away from the offending lips, grunting in dismay.
“That’s what you told me last week. And last month, and the ones before it.” He huffed, trying not to suffocate himself over something so trivially repetitive. “That’s what you told me when I started getting sick. That it would be okay. That I would be just fine. You believing in me has obviously worked wonders!”
The blond usually wasn’t one to accept getting yelled at. But it was Seiichi and he was different and he had to maintain his calm because he had to be the one to do so between the two. But Kuranosuke was twitching and Seiichi knew damn well he was upset.
“Does it make you that angry that I believe in you? In my boyfriend? Does it upset you that I don’t want the person I love to die?”
“Unfortunately your love can’t cure me, Kuranosuke.”
“It can’t, but it’s got to count for something—“
“Like what?!”
The piercing silent was back and this time Seiichi felt less guilt and Kuranosuke was less still. Kuranosuke was always the more emotional between them, and while Seiichi hated every single time he had to use that knowledge for their sake- for their good sake, there were times when he had to pull the trigger. He couldn’t do this to Kuranosuke anymore; the guy had done enough. He had to let Seiichi go. He had to.
“Face it,” Seiichi whispered, finally. “I’m going to die.”
Kuranosuke remained in his place, trembling arms on his sides and face turning a shade of red- trying to hold back tears.
“You only want me to believe that because you want me to leave.”
It always amused him when Kuranosuke proved that he knew Seiichi better than Seiichi thought he did. It was a tad bit annoying and sometimes inconvenient, but Seiichi welcomed the gesture- it showed how much he cared, how much he was committed and it convinced him for some fleeting moments or the other- that Kuranosuke would never let him go.
… and perhaps it was true, but oh how Seiichi wished it wasn’t right now.
Kuranosuke opened his mouth, yet the words just hung loosely in his throat. Seiichi could see them almost spilling out, just as clear as the tears that were dwelling in his eyes. It pained him, and it almost convinced him to apologize, but Kuranosuke was already standing up before anything made it out.
“Kura—“
“Good night, Seiichi.”
And just like a blow of the wind, he’d upped and went, leaving only the brightly colored flowers in the vase and lingering remorse all over the air.