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Ojima coughed once. There was something caught in his throat, but he couldn’t quite escape it every time he cleared it. He assumed he was getting sick and didn’t think much of it.
He was at his desk today, getting ahead of some work he had to do. That was his new strategy, to get ahead of work in case he daydreamed so he wouldn’t fall behind. It was Hiroaki’s idea that he work this way. He coughs again.
Ojima feels very lucky to have met Hiroaki. He’s smart, even if he just seems like a pretty face on the outside. He has wit. He’s bright, even though life constantly tries to smother his light with drugs and people who try to tear him away from his success.
Hiroaki is kind, though this is even harder to see than his brain. It’s like he purposely tries to cover it up. But between making new clothes for Wada after her transition, fixing Tamba’s gymnastics uniform, helping Hasegawa with flashcards, and so much more Ojima could list, he is kind.
Ojima isn’t. He tries his best to be smart, and he has his moments, but he’s always too out of it to properly contribute to more intelligent conversations, though he does try. He doesn’t understand fancy words, elaborate metaphors, or inside jokes. Ojima doesn’t mind this too much, because he tries his best. He is a nice person— he is a kind person, despite his father, despite what he was raised to be.
The tightness in his chest loosens, and he can breathe.
His father… he doesn’t like to think about him, let alone talk about him, but he’s learning. Ojima promised himself that after the court case against his father was over, he would go to therapy and try to start one against his uncle. The case is over now. They won. His father and mother were in prison.
The only people he has opened up to about his uncle are his brothers and Hayashi, but he plans on telling Hiroaki next. He keeps putting it off, not scared, but wary. Ojima knows Hiroaki won’t get mad at him, or think he’s disgusting, so Ojima isn’t worried about that. He’s more worried Hiroaki would pity him. He’s worried he’ll make that face everyone else does when they learn something about Ojima’s past.
Something in his chest tightens again and this time it prickles, like thorns. He coughs. It only hurts worse, but once he starts, he can’t stop.
Ojima wishes Hiroaki were there. He can imagine his gentle touch on his back, soft, caring. Then he pulls his hand back from his mouth and that wish vanishes.
Because there, in his palm, coated in red viscous liquid, were two hibiscus petals– one red, the other blue.