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Reo is sick and tired of being sick and tired.
There’s a soccer match playing on his ipad, the broadcasters making comments in his ears, but Reo’s not absorbing any of it. His gaze is trained somewhere in the middle distance, exhaustion weighing on his eyelids while he sits through his blood transfusion. How many times has he been here now? At least three times since he first started feeling sick a year and a half ago. Today marks the fourth.
“Ah, I died. Again.” Through a lull in the video, Reo hears Seishirou’s mutter to himself, drawing violet eyes to the mop of white hair bent over a phone screen beside him.
Why are you still here? The question is one Reo can’t help but think of almost daily now. Yet he never asks it aloud to his boyfriend.
He wants to go back to the first year and a half of their relationship. Back to when loving each other and being top talent in professional soccer were the only things they had to worry about. At least then, Reo knew they were equals. They complimented each other; Reo’s perfectionism and break-neck motivation tempered by Seishirou’s laidback nonchalance and effortless skill.
Now, everything’s messed up. The balance disrupted. And he’d give anything to fix it. Fix himself.
It started with the flu during the middle of soccer season a year and a half ago. And it’s like his body never recovered from it. Reo fought hard to bounce back and he finished out the season, even if it was his worst one ever. The pain, the nausea and vomiting, the dizziness and fainting. It started to negatively affect his image off the soccer field as well. He lost sponsorships to other players. Gossip columns and sports bloggers alike questioned whether he’s any good as a striker in his condition.
Even now, Reo’s eyes burn with unshed tears thinking of how much he’s lost so far. He’d been hitting his stride as a professional player after the conclusion of the Neo Egoist League. While he hadn’t yet laid claim to the World Cup, Reo had all the faith and determination to make it happen. And the prowess to back it up.
Now the Word Cup feels further than it had in his high school days without a team behind him or the support of his parents.
And Seishirou had been so much closer than him. Thanks to the decline of his body, Reo had been politely asked by Manshine to take a medical leave in the upcoming season. He hadn’t wanted to agree, but he knew that logically, it was better than being cut entirely. Seishirou had stayed on, though. Back at home, Reo cheered Seishirou on every chance he could. Sometimes that was in person at a match. On his bad days, it was from doctor offices or the couch at home.
Three months ago, Seishirou decided to leave in the middle of the season. Whenever reporters asked him why, he always answered that he had different priorities now and left it at that. Reo knew the real reason was him. He’d gotten hurt during a fainting episode.
Sudden shouts in his ears yanks Reo from his self-deprecating thoughts on the past. It looks like Manshine made an amazing score against PXG.
Just then, a nurse walks up and starts removing the blood bag from the medicine pole. Reo closes the video out, realising that his transfusion has finished.
Finally time to get out of here.
He’ll be back on the pitch. He just needs to get answers to his health issues.
Seishirou drives them home while Reo rests his head against the passenger’s window. He can feel a little off right after a transfusion. The problem is, every symptom he has is being blamed on the severe anemia and the transfusions. Even though his intuition tells him that’s not all there is to it. The moment a doctor finally figures it out, Reo knows he’ll finally be able to get back to playing soccer. He’ll go to the best specialists money can buy until he gets answers instead of more questions.
So focused on his own thoughts, Reo doesn’t notice how close they are to home until they’re only a few blocks away.
“Shit.”
“What?” Seishirou blinks, monotone not giving away whether he was startled or not.
Reo looks over at him with an apologetic frown. “There’s a medication refill ready at the pharmacy. And I need it tonight.”
Fingers tap on the steering wheel as Seishirou lets out a sigh. “What a hassle.”
Even though he’d expected the reaction, the words still sting. This is the imbalance. Normally Reo would be on top of everything, managing their lives so that Seishirou doesn’t have to work too hard or shoulder the load himself. He’d all but promised his lazy boyfriend that when they first met and Reo convinced Seishirou to finally play soccer.
Now Seishirou’s dutifully finding an intersection where he can turn around and head back in the opposite direction. Not once does he look Reo’s way or acknowledge the apology written in his expression.
Getting the medication doesn’t take long once they swing by, and Seishirou makes the same path back toward home without further comment. Reo almost wishes he would say something else, but his boyfriend is a man of few words. Normally he’d be the one making conversation, but his body aches too much. His mind choked with fog. All he wants is to finally be out of the sun.
Reo’s phone rings. His heart leaps for a second, hoping it’s a call about the most recent CT scans he had done, but when he checks the screen, it’s his father.
“Yes?” he answers, hoping the fatigue isn’t clear in his voice.
“Reo! How are you, son?”
Just like always, he gives a generic answer. “I’m good, father. How are you and mother doing?”
“Splendid! Just splendid. The reason for my call is I wanted to know what restaurant you’d like me to book reservations to during our trip to Sydney. I’m finalising the itinerary with your mother presently.”
Reo stifles a deep groan. He had completely forgotten that he’d agreed to a winter trip to Sydney, Australia with his parents months ago. What had he been thinking? Honestly, he can barely recall what he was thinking two weeks ago, so it’s anyone’s guess at this point.
Maybe if he times another transfusion just before the flight, it’ll be fine. Or he’ll just push up appointments so that he can get treated and be well enough to travel by December.
Reo’s traitorous thoughts turn negative with a swiftness. What if he doesn’t get better and the trip makes him more miserable? Then he’ll ruin not only Seishirou’s vacation, but his parents as well. The heat has been intolerable this year, something Australia will be in the throes of when they visit. Not only would having his body react poorly be frustrating, it’d also be embarrassing.
His parents haven’t taken his health seriously since it all started. Not that he’s at all surprised. But a trip abroad would likely spell bigger issues than if he finds a way to back out of plans now.
“Father, I was thinking that—”
His father talks over him. “There’s the Infinity at Sydney Tower. One of my associates says the view is as rich as the food. The Gidley is an underground steakhouse. Then there’s LuMi Dining, which has a modern feel. Your mother favours Aria, though.”
As Reo politely allows his father to list out the different high end restaurant choices, the car pulls up to their apartment complex. He climbs out once they’re parked and fights down the grimace at the sight of the stairs they’ll have to climb to get to their third floor suite.
“Reo? Are we still connected?”
“What? Oh,” he had spaced out while standing at the foot of the stairs. “Yeah, we are. I don’t know if I can still go.”
Reo forces the words out as he simultaneously begins climbing the first flight. His legs hurt with every step, as if he’s never conditioned or ran a day in his life. The sensation only depresses him further.
“Why not? Have you made other plans for the winter?”
“No, it’s just…” Breathing normally is far harder as he makes it halfway up the second flight and Reo has to actively focus on not panting into the receiver. “I’ll need to start conditioning for next season.”
“Oh? So you’re going back to all that?” Reo can hear the incredulous tone in his father’s voice.
Seishirou waits at the top of the second flight with an unreadable expression. Reo wants to apologise for being slow, for being distracted by a phone call, but he’s finding it difficult to focus. He feels lightheaded suddenly, body too hot despite it only being 70 degrees today.
“You know tha-that was the—”
The last of his sentence never comes before his vision darkens and awareness slips away completely.
It couldn’t have been more than a minute that he was unconscious, but when Reo wakes he finds that he’s lying on the couch in his living room now. He tries to sit up, only for the movement to make his head swim again, so he lies back down with a groan.
“Hey.” Seishirou’s voice draws Reo’s attention to the armchair beside the couch. His boyfriend reclines there with his phone temporarily abandoned in his lap, some game paused. “How’re you feeling, boss?”
The nickname is bittersweet, but Reo doesn’t want Seishirou to stop using it. Even if being on the soccer field together is forever a thing of the past for them now. “Like shit.”
“Figured. Do you think it was the transfusion that did it this time?”
Reo offers a small shrug before remembering what he’d been doing when he fainted. With a frown, he asks, “What happened with my dad’s call?”
“I hung up.”
The groan this time is one of long-suffering frustration. “He’s going to lose his mind, Seishirou.”
“Probably. He did try calling back.” Seishirou glances at where Reo’s phone is sitting on the coffee table. “Eleven times so far.”
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
Shaking his head, his boyfriend lifts his arm up to show eleven tally marks penned on his wrist. Then he drops it, picking his own phone back up. “We should order takeaway for dinner.”
“What? No, I’ve already marinated the tofu,” Reo replies. He gets himself sitting up this time, swinging his legs to the floor. “It’s fine. It shouldn’t take long to make.”
“Reo, you just said you feel like shit. Takeaway is way easier because we don’t have to put in the effort to make it.” Seishirou glances over. Reo knows he’s hoping that his words are getting through, and part of him knows that Seishirou’s making sense. But he doesn’t want to admit defeat today. He can manage cooking a simple meal.
He stands and makes it into the kitchen, effectively answering Seishirou. The other man doesn’t follow after him and a minute later the sounds of a mobile game can be heard in the other room.
Reo ties his violet hair up into a bun and starts pulling out the ingredients he needs.
In the end, Reo hadn’t been able to cook that simple meal. Then he spent the next week unable to tolerate eating any meal. Whether it was takeaway or something dreadfully plain and simple that Seishirou was able to achieve on his own, everything Reo ate came back up. Violently. If he managed a few bites, it always left him feeling too full and bloated. The fainting episodes became progressively more frequent over that week, the dizziness a near constant presence no matter whether he was lying down for hours or trying to stand for even a minute.
And with each passing day, the worry wore itself deeper and deeper into Seishirou’s usually impassive, beautiful face.
Despite his boyfriend’s concern and his own small voice, Reo tried to push through it. He refused to admit when he needed to stop cleaning or trying to cook.
Until today.
“Reo, we’re going to the hospital.” Seishirou’s expression hardens as he kneels down beside the toilet that Reo has been clinging to for twenty minutes after trying to enjoy dinner.
It’s not the first time he’s said it this week. Reo’s drained. His body hurts in every way imaginable, limbs trembling at the thought of trying to stand without losing consciousness. He can’t enjoy food, can barely tolerate protein shakes as supplements. And he knows that he’s lost far too much weight in one week for it to be remotely healthy.
So while Seishirou has tried more than once to convince him to go to the hospital, today is the first time that Reo finally meets his gaze and gets out a quiet, “Okay.”
The answer makes Seishirou pause for a moment, blinking in the face of the unexpected response. Reo offers up a weak amused grin as if he just did something funny. Seishirou shakes off his surprised stupor long enough to move forward and scoop Reo up off the floor, cradling him against his chest.
“Wha—” Reo startles at being carried, but he doesn’t have the strength to resist. This used to be his thing to do, carrying Seishirou so that he doesn’t have to make any effort.
Seishirou shakes his head. “It’s faster this way.”
The only time Reo gets placed carefully to his feet is when Seishirou needs to stop and grab both their wallets and the car keys, going so far as to also grab a notebook that Reo doesn’t recognise. Each time he’s allowed to stand, Seishirou keeps a hand wrapped around his wrist as if he fears that Reo will try to make a break for it.
Ten minutes later, Seishirou places Reo into the passenger seat and buckles him in before rounding the car and getting into the driver’s side. “Just rest, okay?” he states softly before turning the vehicle on and pulling out of the parking space.
Reo can tell how terrified Seishirou is. His boyfriend has never been expressive, but it’s visible in the wrinkle of his brow, the tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel, and the random humming he starts and stops without realising it. More than anything, Reo despises that his own body has caused this. The last thing Seishirou needs is to be distressed because of him, not when he could be having an easy life playing soccer and relaxing with video games in his free time. He could have a healthy partner able to spoil him the way he deserves, the way Reo used to.
His train of thought is disrupted by the pulsing pain of a headache encroaching fast. Behind it are tendrils of fog that thicken more than they have all day, leaving Reo with very little idea of how long it takes to reach the emergency department at their local hospital. All he knows is that the car stops moving, and Seishirou is back on his side of the car, carrying him yet again inside.
Words are exchanged, a wheelchair provided, and Seishirou’s knee bounces in the corner of Reo’s vision as they wait to be seen. He’s not certain of anything else until a doctor enters their private suite. When had they been moved into one? Yet more conversation happens that Reo knows he participates in, but can’t recall the details of. They start an IV, connecting him to a bag of fluids, and then a little later a nurse is inserting a feeding tube into him through his nose.
Reo does remember how uncomfortable that experience was.
Once the liquid nutrition starts and the fluids have been going for a while, Reo begins to feel the fog choking his thoughts begin to recede, awareness coming back into sharp focus.
Sitting in the armchair right beside the hospital bed, Seishirou peers down at something on his phone with rapt attention. There’s no rapidly tapping fingers on his screen turned horizontally. If he didn’t know any better, Reo might think that his boyfriend is reading something.
“Hey.” Oh, talking with a tube passing through his throat feels so weird.
Seishirou’s head lifts, revealing the dark circles under his eyes. It pains Reo in a way his body could never achieve. He’s done this to him. He has caused the most unflappable, lazy man more anguish than anyone should have to face at their young age.
Just as his boyfriend starts to speak, Reo jumps in first. “We should break up.”
For the second time today, Seishirou is momentarily stunned.
“Not because I want to, I don’t.” Tears are sliding down Reo’s cheeks before he can think of stopping them, already grieving the loss of their love and the life they should have together.
“Then don’t.” There’s an edge to Seishirou’s words. An edge that Reo can’t read in his emotional state.
He shakes his head, the little tube dangling from his cheek waving to and fro. “It’s not fair to you, Seishirou. You didn’t sign up for all of this!” He indicates the room with an angry wave of his free hand. “I—I can’t keep holding you back. Y-You don’t deserve any of this.”
“But you think that you do?”
The question gives Reo pause, but only for a moment before he answers, “No! I don’t think I deserve it, but I’m stuck with it. You aren’t trapped in this body like I am. Go—Go live your life, Seishirou. Go back to playing soccer. At least one of us should be happy—should enjoy living.”
Seishirou doesn’t respond immediately. He peers at Reo ugly sobbing before slowly standing up and moving from the chair to sitting on the edge of the bed. “You think I’m not happy?”
Reo scoffs. “Of course you’re not happy. I’m not happy. I can’t take care of you the way I should be. We can’t play soccer together or finally win the World Cup. I can’t take you out for a nice dinner without getting sick from it, and who knows if I’ll ever travel again. You abandoned an amazing career because of me, and now you spend most days stuck making food for us or being my glorified chauffeur to appointment after appointment that just ends in more bullshit questions no one wants to answer.”
“Reo.” Seishirou takes the hand currently stuck with an IV. For a moment he simply brushes his thumb over Reo’s knuckles slowly before finally saying, “I was content with living an easy life before I met you. Content, but I wouldn’t say I was happy. I was skating by on autopilot—school, home, video games, repeat. You pulled me out of a bland existence, threw colour over every aspect of my life just by being in it. I don’t care if I ever play soccer again or travel to some fancy new destination. I’m happy because I love you and you love me, even though I’ve always been a lazy pain in your ass.”
“But…you clearly don’t like having to take care of me. I’ve been waiting for you to end things yourself.”
Again, Seishirou blinks at him before his expression folds into a worried frown. “What do you mean?”
Reo searches for the right words for a moment before answering, “Look, normally, before my body started doing all this breaking down shit, it never bothered me when you would say things like ‘what a hassle’ or ‘this is a pain.’ I always knew that you were annoyed with whatever you’re being told to do. But now—now I am the hassle, I’m the pain in your ass. I’m a burden for you, Seishirou.”
The admission makes Seishirou suck in a breath that he lets out slowly as his gaze drops into his lap. “I’m sorry, Reo. I didn’t think—I shouldn’t be so careless with my words. You have never been and never will be a hassle for me.” There’s a shimmer of unshed tears in his gaze when Seishirou makes eye contact again. “But if you think you’re a burden, then you’re my burden that I refuse to give up.”
Reo’s own tears haven’t stopped since they started and Seishirou’s words only makes him cry harder. The other man reaches forward and brushes his thumb through the tear track before leaning forward so that their foreheads kiss.
“I love you. You’re my treasure.” Reo whispers it into the space between them.
The beeping of the heart rate monitor doesn’t intrude on this moment as Seishirou whispers back, “I love you too, Reo.”
The kiss they share is gentle and healing. Perhaps not able to heal Reo’s poor health, it does heal their relationship of the doubts and fears that had been plaguing them. When they pull away, Seishirou seems to think of something and turns to grab that same unidentified notebook from the arm of the chair. Without saying anything, he holds it out to Reo.
He stares at the unassuming black cover for a second before taking it in hand and opening it. Eyes widen as Reo takes in the notes filling page after page in Seishirou’s cramped handwriting. Almost every day of the past three months that Seishirou has lived with him documents Reo’s symptoms, diet, and any thoughts or observations Seishirou has about those things. Even the good days are noted and highlighted with what they were able to accomplish.
Looking up from the words, Reo gets to be stunned into silence this time.
“Some chronic illness accounts mentioned keeping a log of symptoms and stuff, so when I moved in, I thought I could do that for you since you were having trouble remembering things.” Seishirou shrugs. “I meant to tell you before now, but couldn’t figure out a way that didn’t make it seem creepy.”
“It’s amazing, Seishirou. Not creepy at all.” Reo leans forward and adds, “Kiss me again, dammit.”
“As you wish, boss.”
The hospital stay lasts a month and a half. Six weeks of tests and monitoring while Reo puts on weight he lost. Three weeks of Japan’s finest hospital food, quality time with Seishirou stolen between nurse checks, and finally getting the diagnoses he’s desperately sought. Reo has gastroparesis so severe that the only option available when medications and changes to his solid food diet don’t work is to insert a central line and start a daily routine of administering his nutrition directly into his heart.
The central line also allows him to maintain a regular treatment of IV fluids to combat his postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome or POTS, as the doctors and nurses refer to it. It was the cause for his fainting and dizzy spells, for the temperature dysregulation and sudden muscle weakness he has been experiencing. It’s explained to both of them that the fluids help increase his blood volume and the salinity necessary to lessen the severity of his symptoms.
They also determine that his chronic pain is due to rheumatoid arthritis and once they find the right medication cocktail, Reo finally has days where the pain doesn’t feel like he’s being shredded to pieces at the molecular level.
Reo’s relieved the day that he finally gets discharged. The hospital already set up routine deliveries of nutrition (otherwise known as total parenteral nutrition or TPN) and fluid bags. Both Reo and Seishirou have become skilled at going through the process of preparing his ports for access, running the pump, and applying a dressing over the tube going into his heart.
Now it’s time to get used to the new normal.
The number of good days start to increase. Despite that, Seishirou continues to keep track of Reo’s symptoms. And Reo does better about mentioning ones that his partner can’t identify through observation. There’s a sick satisfaction in revealing his very visible treatments to his parents by requesting a video call in that first week after being home from the hospital. His father couldn’t help but stare while his mother broke out into tears.
Rather than going on the trip to Australia, Reo and Seishirou stay home and celebrate Christmas together quietly.
“Merry Christmas, Seishirou.” Reo smiles down at his boyfriend where he has his head resting in Reo’s lap.
“Merry Christmas, Reo.” They share a kiss before Seishirou’s phone goes off and he takes a second to glance at the screen before sitting up suddenly. “Your present is here.”
“Here?”
“Mhm.” Standing to his feet, Seishirou holds out a hand when Reo starts to lean forward to push himself up as well. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Reo trusts Seishirou and settles back into the couch with a nod. Once he does, Seishirou vacates the apartment with a private excitement in his step. They had already exchanged gifts earlier in the day, so Reo can’t think of what else he’s about to receive. If he wasn’t currently running a bag of fluids, he would consider sneaking out after Seishirou, but he doesn’t feel totally comfortable being seen outside of their home with an IV actively running.
After five minutes, Seishirou comes through the front door again. Reo can’t see the entrance from his place on the sofa, but he can hear that there’s another set of feet clicking across the hardwood floor as they approach.
“Seishirou, what—”
Coming around the corner, Seishirou leads in a doberman puppy on a purple leash. “You’re present’s here,” he repeats with a grin. He lets go of the leash and points at Reo. “Go say hi!”
The puppy trots over and sits at Reo’s feet, lifting back onto their hind legs and resting their front paws on his knees. Leaning forward, Reo pets their little head. “Hi there. Who are you?”
“I figured we should pick her name together.” Seishirou lowers himself down to sit on the couch again. “She’s already trained in basic obedience, but we’ll work with her to train her as a service dog for you.”
“A—A service dog?” Reo stares down at the adorable puppy.
Seishirou nods, reaching out to pet behind her ear as he replies, “Yeah, I know we’ve seen other people on social media with their own service dogs. I don’t see why you can’t have one as well. Plus it means I can be a bit lazier.”
Looking over, Reo doesn’t miss the playful smirk. “So she’s a present for you too, huh?”
“Basically.” Seishirou leans over to plant a kiss on Reo’s cheek. “So names…She has a blank tag on her collar. I picked out a pentagon one to remind us of Blue Lock.”
The mention of the tag shape draws Reo’s attention to said collar. There’s a gleam of something next to the tag itself that catches his gaze. Brows furrowing, Reo reaches forward and takes the collar in hand to look closer. Secured on the tag’s jump ring is an actual ring.
“Seishirou…is this what I—Is this an engagement ring?”
When Reo looks up from the white gold ring, Seishirou’s already sliding off the couch onto one knee. Their new dog shifts off Reo’s knees to go snuggle in the other man’s arms. “Reo, will you marry me? You’re my treasure, just like I’m yours. And I want to keep you safe for as long as possible.”
It doesn’t escape Reo that he’s not asking for forever. And he appreciates that.
His health takes away the certainty of the future, something they both are coming to terms with the possibility of.
Tears well up in his eyes while the doberman licks at his hand. “Yes. Yes I’ll marry you. You’re my everything, Seishirou. A treasure I don’t deserve, but I’m selfishly going to keep.”
Seishirou smiles and nods, adoration and understanding shining in his stormy gray eyes. He glances down long enough to remove the ring from the dog’s collar and then takes Reo by the hand and slides the band onto his finger. Purple and white gems alternate, embedded around the entire band.
“Now I owe you a ring, too.”
“I can’t wait to see what you pick,” he answers with an easy smile.
Their dog yips in obvious agreement, making both men laugh. Outside, snow begins to fall.
“I think I like Winter,” Reo boops his finger against the doberman’s damp nose, “for you.”
Seishirou nods and rubs at her chest as she tries to lick his face. “Winter’s a perfect name.”
Things aren’t certain, his body still doesn’t like cooperating, and Reo will have days where he grieves for the person he once was, the person he’s lost to illness. But in this moment, he can’t think of a time where he was happier. He may not have his health, but he has love. He has partnership. He has the heart of his greatest treasure.
And that’s more than enough.