Work Text:
Ben’s laughing, and Kenji feels like he could get drunk on that sound alone.
He always thought that it suited Ben so well, the way he laughs. It’s not necessarily pretty or melodic, but it is so uniquely Ben that Kenji thinks he’d recognise it in a room full of strangers with his eyes closed.
Right now, Kenji doesn’t close his eyes. He wouldn’t dare. Instead, he drinks the sight of Ben’s smile, he takes in the subtle pink shading of his cheeks; the laughter is quieter, subdued, slightly breathless, but it gives Kenji just enough courage to smile back, even though his entire chest is tight with pain and fear.
When Ben’s arms slide over his shoulderblades, Kenji bites his bottom lip. He holds Ben carefully, gently, supporting his body to stay upright, because he can feel how Ben’s legs are shaking at the effort. Was Kenji Kon a better man, he would insist that Ben should sit down immediately. But Kenji is as selfish as ever – eager to latch onto the friendly affection, while he hopes it was something… more. The lamps above them flicker minutely, but the pod continues to drive forward. Soon, they will reach the hospital and then Kenji will stop clinging to Ben that much. He will stop feeding himself with the fantasy that can only ever result in heartbreak.
Ben’s breath whistles in his ear, along with his faint laughter. He sounds like a ghost. He is fading away inch by inch.
God, how long has it been? It feels like centuries have passed since this horror started unfolding, when Ben looked up at them with hands shaking, and eyes so full of fear that Kenji’s knees almost gave up. Feels like years have passed, but it’s only been a handful of hours. If Kenji focuses hard enough, he can still recall the casual warmth of Ben’s hand on his shoulder, his knowing smile, the spark of electricity that danced over Kenji’s skin when Ben looked at him before handing him Smoothie. Kenji can still remember when things were normal, and Ben wasn’t dying. It was easier back then. Kenji’s arms around Ben tighten involuntarily. He seeks the warmth that is now a breath of memory. A fleeting spark of hope.
How fitting. After all, Kenji’s heart twists uncomfortably in his chest, he has always been searching for things he cannot have.
Greedy, greedy hands of a boy, who was promised everything, denied nothing, and always ended up with empty hands. This boy has always dreamed of the world, but never cried when pieces of it were taken away from him. Now, this boy is older and he would define ‘the world’ differently. Now, his entire world is shaking with pain and breathlessness, and Kenji fears that this, too, will be ripped away from him.
He gulps when Ben pulls away from him, swaying a little. No longer does his laughter tickle Kenji’s ear, and that’s when Kenji truly realizes how softly Ben was laughing; how little space is in his ribcage – how much of his lungs must be burning with agony. Kenji’s throat shakes when a wince of pain crumples the corners of Ben’s eyes. A soundless gasp of discomfort breaks the rhythm of Ben’s quiet laughter. Kenji swallows up the sob-like noise that is crawling up his throat, he blinks away the tears. He tucks in his claws of a thief, fingertips gentle over Ben’s hoodie as he helps him to sit by the wall of the pod. His body whispers temptation into his muscles, and so Kenji leaves his hand there – loosely wrapped around Ben’s waist. His hand brushes against Ben’s, and he nearly jerks away at how cool it is to the touch. Strange, because Ben’s forehead is positively burning up as if he was being consumed with fever.
Kenji draws air into his lungs, a suggestion, a plea – “Take some rest, Benny boy,” he wants to say, but ends up choking on the sentence when Ben’s head lands on his shoulder. There is no finesse in the gesture, no delicacy in the way Ben holds his own body – the forehead collides with Kenji’s shoulder painfully, it feels heavy, as if Ben no longer had the energy to keep his skeleton from folding down. Truly, there is no reason for Kenji to feel so delighted at this touch. And yet his heart leaps to his throat, his breath catches at the back of his throat. One single second beats loudly in his ears, and he casts his eyes down to see the sandy mess of Ben’s hair. They are close enough for Kenji to smell the grime that sticks to Ben’s strands, the sweat that brings dampness to the roots of his hair. A hint of rosemary shampoo casts a shadow of suggestion about how Ben smells right after showering, and Kenji feels like he’s being punched in the stomach.
He swallows up the lump in his throat, holds his breath, and carefully rests his cheek against the crown of Ben’s head. His heart is racing in his chest, shame and guilt slither between his ribs. It feels both wrong and unavoidable to steal these precious moments at times like this.
“Are you uncomfortable?” Kenji asks, and cringes at how hoarse his voice is.
He’s all choked up with emotions. The panic that lies thicker and thicker over his tongue as he listens to Ben’s shallow breathing. The adrenaline that still flickers in his blood, an echo of looking a dilophosaurus in the eye and kicking the monster’s belly. The misplaced wonder that Ben is close, so close, that Ben is relying on him, that Ben trusts him.
“Mhm,” Ben mumbles. “’s good.” His weight shifts a little, pressing closer to the angular lines of Kenji’s body. “You’re warm…”
Kenji breathes in sharply, and relaxes against the wall. He’s glad that Ben sits on his right, because otherwise his own heart would betray him with how loudly it’s beating. He exhales slowly, and his fingers twitch against Ben’s hip, right next to the injury. The fabric is damp there. The blood is hot, but it is cooling quickly, and somehow that alone makes it even worse – how quickly does the warmth escape the body, how long can one hold their breath before this heat, too, evaporates.
“Kenj…” Ben’s whisper is even fainter than his laughter.
“What is it?” Kenji asks and makes the mistake of looking down, just when Ben tilts his head a little to meet Kenji’s eyes.
The pod is sickeningly white, almost sterile like a hospital room, the tunnels outside are black, like a starless night, but all Kenji can see right now is blue, blue, blue. Ben’s eyes are like the endless stretch of ocean. There, in the deep waters, hide mermaids waiting for the sailors’ doom.
Kenji quickly looks away.
“Tell me a story.”
Kenji squeezes his eyes briefly, forcing tears back. The greed twists in his stomach. The desire to chase after this affection is so strong that he nearly gags over its taste. Here he is, mind so hungry that he marvels at the weight of Ben’s body against his, and here is Ben innocently asking him for soft things.
“I’m not good at this, man,” Kenji replies stiffly. What he says is true, but he feels like he’s lying nonetheless.
There’s a moment of silence, and at first Kenji thinks that Ben’s just gonna drop it. It is only once he hears a shaky wheeze of air by his ear, he realizes that another wave of panic has rolled through Ben’s body, and the boy – ever so stupidly considerate – is trying to hide the sudden outburst of pain. Kenji’s lips tighten, but he says nothing, pretending he does not notice the treachery of Ben’s irregular breathing.
A couple of seconds pass, and then Ben shudders slightly, slumping against Kenji even further.
“Mhm, tell me what’tcha gonna do when you get home…” words turn into a mush on Ben’s tongue, as if they were drowning in a thick liquid.
“When we get home,” Kenji’s voice turns sharper in an instant.
He isn’t sure what he was meaning to achieve, but Ben only shakes soundlessly in response – a noiseless chuckle.
“Just tell me, city boy,” he teases, reaching for one of the nicknames that they haven’t used in years, as if he knew that this alone would completely disarm Kenji.
Kenji bites the inner side of his cheek. He’s scared of talking about the future. He’s scared because the picture he sees is haunting – the lines are all too sharp, the colors are all too vivid, and Ben sticks out among the figures of his imagination like a sore thumb. A cardboard body awkwardly glued to the flat wall.
Kenji’s voice shakes a little when he begins.
“Well, first things first, I will take a shower. A proper hot shower,” he jokes lightly, and smiles when he feels Ben relax against him. “Then I will call Angelica–”
“Your ma?” Ben mumbles quietly.
Kenji licks his lips nervously. He usually calls Darius’ mother by her name but…
“Yes,” he nods, clearing his throat. “I’ll call her and tell her that both Darius and I are safe, because knowing him, he will forget about that. And then… I will probably move my trailer… There’s no point in staying in Colorado now that...” His windpipe tightens; the memories are still fresh after all, the loss is still tender.
“S’rry ‘bout your father, Ke-” Ben says but before Kenji’s name takes a full shape on his lips, another spasm of pain makes him cough dryly.
Up from this close, Kenji can feel the strain coiling in Ben’s body. He bites his tongue, his face sours. Daniel Kon did nothing to deserve the fragility of Ben’s breath. Unworthy.
“Save your breath,” Kenji says harshly. “But thank you,” he adds, wondering if it will ever stop being strange to receive condolences in regards to the father whom he hated. Quickly, he pushes those thoughts away, and continues without prompting. “So I will move my trailer somewhere else, maybe closer to Darius.”
“That’d be nice…” Ben mutters, speech slurring in a way that suggests weariness. An alarm rings at the back of Kenji’s mind.
“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me,” Kenji laughs weakly. “I can’t be that bad at storytelling,” he adds, as his fingers press against Ben’s side a bit harder. Just enough to remind Ben of Kenji’s presence. Just enough to anchor him back to reality.
The smile on his face takes a more honest shape when he feels the whisper of Ben’s amusement against his shoulder. Kenji’s ready to hear Ben bite back, tease him a little, he braces himself, longing for the familiar back-and-forth, but–
“Don’t worry, pretty boy,” Ben mumbles, voice carrying a surprising amount of clarity before it swoops right back into slushy thickness. “You‘re perfect.”
Now, Kenji is the one losing his breath. Some disease is unfolding in his lungs, it’s spreading rapidly – dripping molten lava as his heart burns with liquid fire. Perhaps he has misheard. Or perhaps, Ben’s not quite aware of what he’s saying. Perhaps–
Kenji laughs with just a hint of hysterics.
“New nickname, really?”
Ben shrugs. Or rather – attempts to.
“Not new, just secret,” he sounds a little different; his voice is mellow with something unspoken, secretive, wistful. A broken sigh slips past his mouth, and Kenji wants to catch it with his teeth so badly that it aches. “So… you’ll be moving your trailer…”
Kenji swallows the lump forming at the back of his throat. His fingertips shake where they rest on Ben’s hip. He doesn’t give a shit about his trailer. He doesn’t care about the future at all. He wants to stay here-and-now forever, take roots in the present, where he knows that Ben is alive and breathing, and still witty enough to joke at Kenji’s expense mercilessly, oblivious that it breaks Kenji’s resolve bit by bit.
Kenji nods firmly and fixes his eyes on the wall opposite them. There’s a thin stretch of glass there, and from where they sit, Kenji can see their reflection. Ben’s closed eyes, Ben’s hand resting protectively over his wound, Ben’s pale cheeks, and the barely-there quirk of his mouth. Then, Kenji glances at his own reflection and, immediately, feels grateful that Ben’s not looking at him.
Ben, after all, knows what Kenji looks like when he is in love. Surely, with no trouble, he’d recognize the feeling that shimmers beneath Kenji’s skin. He’d piece together the picture and that would probably ruin everything.
“Y-yeah,” Kenji agrees awkwardly. “I’ll move somewhere else. No more isolating myself from my friends and family,” he laughs bitterly. “I can restart my business wherever I want as long as there are mountains nearby, and– ah! Perhaps to celebrate the new beginning, I’ll order personalized pens! You know, to go along with the stickers?”
“Mhm,” Ben mutters through a smile, and then continues unexpectedly. “Soun’ nice…”
“I’m sure that people will be lining up to get a piece of my wisdom.” He puffs out his chest, and pride swells in him when Ben snorts weakly. “Hey, don’t laugh! I’ll let you know that I am a fantastic teacher!”
Ben’s breath wheezes at the back of his throat – be it in amusement or disagreement, Kenji doesn’t know. What matters is that Ben is still conscious, and Kenji still manages to make him smile.
“‘ know…” Ben speaks slowly as if even one single word costs him a lot of energy.
“Hm?” Kenji hums.
“I was hoping that you’d teach me too… Rock climbing…” The pattern of Ben’s sentence is uneven, shaky, the volume of his voice rises when a shadowy inhale rushes out of his lungs, bringing the last syllables of each sentence into a quiet whisper. Kenji holds his own breath. “Guess that’s not in the cards anymore, huh?”
“I–” Kenji feels as if someone has wrapped their hand around his throat and squeezed tightly. “Don’t say that, Benny,” he argues, speaking over the thickness in his mouth. “You’ll be back on your feet in no time.” God, it’s pathetic how his voice shakes.
To this Ben doesn’t reply, and for a moment Kenji thinks that he has fallen asleep, but then a long, pained groan shakes Ben’s throat, and Kenji almost jumps out of his skin.
“Dude! Don’t scare me like that!” He complains, moving away slightly, just enough to glare at Ben and show him exactly what he thinks of being frightened to death like that.
However, all of this anger evaporates when he meets Ben’s eyes. Blue still, beautiful without a doubt, but the color is diluted now – the essence carried by the excessive moisture that drips down Ben’s cheeks, following the streams that were set before. Quickly, Ben looks down, a noiseless sob visibly rising in his throat
Oh, shit.
Kenji’s immediately on his feet, making sure that he can look Ben straight in the eye. He kneels right by his side, kicking the taser rifle away, hands hovering awkwardly over Ben’s shoulders.
“Hey, Ben, Ben,” he repeats the name with a hint of panic. There’s no shame in being scared, he told Darius just a few hours ago, and finds it oh-so-difficult to follow up his own advice now. “Ben, look at me,” he demands, and before he knows what he is doing, his hand is on Ben’s cheek. Fingers gentle, his touch fleeting, just a suggestion of a gesture – an open invitation for Ben to meet his eyes again. “What is it? Does it hurt?”
Ben shakes his head only once, his breathing still taking the shape of ragged gasps, trapped between pain and anger. Kenji feels his lips tighten at the obvious lie.
“Come on, man, don’t lie to me, I can tell that–”
“It’s not the pain!” Ben spits out with a surprising vigor, almost immediately, he curls a little, his hands flying to press against the injury, his teeth clenching. Kenji immediately moves his hand away as if Ben’s skin was burning, even though it is terrifyingly cold. “Just––” Ben wheezes, and stops before more words tumble out of his mouth, choosing to fight for his breath instead.
Kenji has never felt so useless in his life.
Helplessly, he watches as Ben tries to get his breathing under control, tries to stabilize the rhythm of shallow intakes of air, and stretches out the length of his exhales. Every breath hurts. Kenji can see that in the tension gathering in the corners of Ben’s eyes, in the way he bites the softness of his lips. Hesitantly, he reaches out and takes Ben’s hand to place it over his racing heart.
“Focus on my breath, okay?” he asks quietly, when Ben meets his eyes, bewildered.
There’s no way Ben can currently match the rise and fall of Kenji’s chest, but the touch seems to be enough to pull Ben away from the immediate panic. After a couple of moments, his fingers spread comfortably over Kenji’s chest, and an embarrassed flush settles on top of Kenji’s cheekbones. He doesn’t have to guess what Ben can feel with his fingertips; heartbeat so quick and loud that it could only ever mean two things – fear or love. Right now, it means both.
Ben sighs and slips his hand down.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbles, casting his gaze down for a moment. “It’s just…” His eyelashes are like a fan of dark feathers, shimmering with moisture. His eyes, once again, an endless blue. Shining with hundreds of unspilled tears and thousands of reasons to fall in love again. “Kenji. I won’t be back on my feet anytime soon.”
Kenji shakes his head.
“You don’t know that.”
“I actually do.” Ben's fingernails dig slightly into the damp fabric of his hoodie. The red blotches that started growing over the wound are now collecting into a growing stain. Kenji almost winces when Ben clutches the spot tighter, a couple of drops of blood giving color to his fingers. “Kenji,” Ben utters his name again, not even a shadow of anger in his voice now. Only pure fear. “I don’t want to die.”
The temperature in the pod drops significantly. The whistle of electricity that carries them vanishes into a near-silence.
I don't want to die.
The warmth that dared to bloom within Kenji’s chest turns frigid in a second, his lungs freezing mid-breath.
The future flickers within the lens of Kenji’s mind. The collage-like scenes are empty, the lines blur, the colors pale rapidly right in front of his eyes until all that is left is the vast stretch of nothing. Terror zips down Kenji’s spine, and he blinks the picture of the apocalypse away before it brings him to tears.
But his heart is cornered already, trapped in the cage made of terror and bones. A boy who wanted the world, and the world falling to pieces. Kenji raises his hand, thiefling’s fingers that are eager to grasp everything within their reach to turn the reality solid. He raises his hands and finds Ben’s skin cold, yes, but still carrying the whisper of life right beneath. Ben’s cheek warms up slightly where Kenji cradles it.
“You won’t die,” Kenji says hoarsely, eyebrows knitting together as he tries to be confident about things he has no control over. “No one is dying on my watch. There are only as many deaths as one person can witness in such a short amount of time. Trust me, I am already above the limit,” he jokes weakly. “There is no way you will die as long as I am here, got it?”
The corner of Ben’s mouth twitches and, oh God, Kenji can feel that right by his thumb. Something in his chest flutters and then almost explodes when Ben lifts his hand to wrap his fingers around Kenji's wrist.
“Then don’t leave me,” he says in that small, sweet voice of his, and for a moment Kenji sees someone else entirely – a boy with eyes round with fear, with hands dripping with hand sanitizer, with knees so weak that they shake at the weight of adventure. This very boy is asking Kenji for a favor.
Unhurriedly, Kenji runs his thumb over the lines painted by tears on Ben’s cheeks.
“I won’t. I promise.” His voice shakes only a little, his throat thick with emotion.
A sigh of relief shakes the column of Ben’s neck, the trembling line of his mouth melts into softness, pitched in the corners to resemble a smile. His eyes, big, round, blue, clear into a pained compliance. Suddenly, Kenji finds it hard to breathe. He wants to do what Yaz did – lean down, kiss Ben’s forehead. And then kiss his cheek, his eyelids, the tip of his nose, his– Kenji bites the corner of his mouth, his cheeks redden, as Ben tilts his head a little to nuzzle his cheek against the heat of Kenji’s palm. Ben’s fingers are cold against Kenji’s skin, his skin feels clammy; his hand, as weak as it is, tenses around Kenji’s wrist almost to the point that the pressure becomes uncomfortable. A silent plea – don’t leave me alone.
Don’t let me die alone.
And Kenji, too, wants to say the same exact thing – do not leave me. A reflection of the same sentiment, only wielded by a different tongue, only supported by a different heart.
It is all butter-soft, liquid in its nature, hard to grasp. Perhaps that’s why the moment the pod stops is so sudden, so abruptly violent.
The lamps above their heads turn off, and Kenji finds himself stumbling forward.
A razor-sharp warning flashes through his mind – he cannot fall onto Ben, not with the injury Ben’s body is nursing, not with the greediness of Kenji’s own heart. His unoccupied hand shots forward, palm bracing against the pod’s wall, right next to Ben’s ear. Kenji’s breath ricochets in his ribcage, the hasty exhale caused by the impact. His chest is heaving, his wrist pulsates with pain at the pressure of Kenji’s weight, and Kenji has to close his eyes for a second to regain the clarity of his mind.
“You good?” Kenji asks, breathing out heavily.
“I–” Ben swallows audibly, and that rings an alarm. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” It hardly sounds convincing.
Kenji opens his eyes, and all he sees is blue, blue, blue.
An emergency light is casting a bluish charm over the inside of the pod, but even that color dulls compared to the wide expanse of Ben’s widely opened eyes, currently just inches away from Kenji’s face. With almost ravenous speed, however, the blue irises are being consumed by the pitch black darkness of Ben’s growing pupils. The intimacy of their position is so tender that it is borderline vulgar.
“I–” Kenji gasps out.
The heat of Ben’s shallow breath tickles Kenji’s lips like a fan of feathers. They are so close that Kenji can almost taste the fever resting on Ben’s tongue. Ben’s long eyelashes shift, his eyelids drooping a little when he slides his gaze lower, beneath the line of Kenji’s eyes, and lower still, until Kenji can feel attention on the seam of his own lips. It’s a reflex really, that he licks his bottom lip, and he can see how Ben’s eyes widen even further, and–
“Oh my God, I’m sorry, I–” Kenji quickly pulls away, peeling his hands away from the wall, away from Ben’s face that he was still cradling. His cheeks are burning. “I hope that I didn’t hurt you,” he adds quickly, standing up, looking around frantically – anything to avoid looking at Ben.
It seems that the pod has stopped, and that is a much more pressing matter than–
“No,” Ben replies after a moment, groaning quietly as he pulls himself to sit up straight. Kenji’s eyes flicker to him for a second. The parted lips, the feverish eyes, the anxious body. Gods, Kenji has almost used the fact that Ben’s half out of his mind to his own advantage. “What happened?” Ben asks, raising his gaze, and Kenji quickly looks around.
“Not sure. I think we stopped.” He shakes his head, and freezes when a familiar, unwelcomed thrill echoes in the distance.
They exchange looks. The shamefulness of the situation wears off immediately in the face of lethal danger. Kenji leans down, takes a hold of his shock prod, and stands in the middle of the pod’s alley, angling his body to place himself right in front of Ben. The blood is booming in his ears, but even though the noise, he can hear the panic that creeps into Ben’s ragged breath. With eyes fixed on the glass in front of them, Kenji turns his face to the side, so that Ben can see the echo of the promise on his lips.
“I’m here.” Is what Kenji chooses to say. “So don’t worry.”
I’m not leaving you.
He braces himself, leaning forward, the metal prod grows slick with his sweat. The dilophosauruses are nearing; he can hear their awful half-screeching, half-screaming noises. A bead of sweat drips down his temple. If the dinosaurs corner them here… Kenji flexes his fingers a little bit, gripping the prod. No matter what happens, he will not go down without a fight. In the glassy reflection in front of him, he can see the darkness unfolding, and his mind whispers of the monsters with long teeth that could be hiding there.
Old habits die hard; months on Isla Nublar have taught him that the terror usually lurks where it cannot be spotted.
God, this fight is going to hurt.
Suddenly, the lights in the pod flicker with brightness again, and the trailer moves on smoothly as if it had never stopped in the first place. The shock prod nearly slips out of Kenji’s hands, and he almost drops to his knees as relief floods his body. He exhales shakily, and puts his weapon down. Once more, he glances at the narrow window, but for now – they are safe. With that in mind, he turns around swiftly, attention snapping back to Ben, and… he ends up stumbling at the expression Ben is wearing.
Ben’s eyes are bright, even if hiding beneath the heavy lines of eyelashes; his cheeks are peppered with color, a touch of pink stains Ben’s skin in a way that brings life to his face. All of this pales, though, in comparison to the smile that crooks Ben’s mouth. The tremble of uneven breath is still there, looming in the corners, but gods, gods, he’s smiling at Kenji as if Kenji has just hung sun on the sky, as if he ignited the stars in the middle of the night.
Instantly, Kenji’s cheeks flush red, and the memory of the position he found himself in just a moment ago returns twice as emotionally charged as before. His hand rakes through his hair, slightly pulling at the roots in an attempt to bring himself back to reality.
“It seems like we’re back on track,” he says, looking everywhere but Ben. “We should get to safety soon,” he adds after a moment.
Still carefully avoiding Ben’s gaze, Kenji looks around, uncertain what to do. But the pod is as empty as it was, with nothing to latch onto.
“Let’s get you on your feet,” he suggests suddenly. “I want you out of this door as soon as possible.”
Kenji kneels down, his arms stretching out, ready to carry the gravity for Ben. He’s waiting for the now-familiar morbid coolness of Ben’s fingers to slide over his shoulder but it does not arrive. Cautiously, he glances up. Ben’s smile is dimmer now, shyer, and he looks as if his eyelids could no longer withstand the weight of his eyelashes.
“I need a moment,” Ben breathes out heavily, his hand twitching nervously over the injury.
“Right, yes, of course,” Kenji nods immediately, cursing his own inconsideration. “Take all the time you need,” he adds, and begins to stand up but the sound Ben makes at the back of his throat stops him.
“Sit with me?” Ben is not asking for a big favor, and yet the way his voice is faint against the suggestion makes it feel like he’s asking for the impossible. The vulnerability leaks through the shallowness of his breath through the noiseless grunts of pain.
Kenji closes his eyes for a moment, says a silent prayer to any god listening – may they have Kenji in their thoughts, as he slides down the pod’s wall, settling right next to Ben. Their shoulders brush, and Kenji suppresses a shudder. It was much easier to ignore the physical contact before – now, he does not know how long he can hold himself from slipping.
Instead of resting his head on Kenji’s shoulder, Ben leans against the surface of the wall. Small blessings. Kenji sighs and drops his head down, until his chin brushes against the front of his chest. Everything in his body cramps with boiling adrenaline and effort. He expects that by the time he returns to Colorado, he will be able to climb his favourite peak twice as fast as before with all the exercise that raw survival puts him through.
“How many more times will we just barely escape death?” Ben asks suddenly, and Kenji immediately lifts his head.
His eyes meet Ben’s; the question is genuine, but the tiredness with which it was asked sends something unpleasant down Kenji’s spine. He reaches out almost reflexively. His hand brushes against Ben’s – right above the thagomizer hiding beneath the hoodie.
“Just one more is enough,” Kenji whispers softly, his thumb grazing over the line of Ben’s wrist. The skin is so cold that it feels like Kenji’s touching a naked bone.
The corners of Ben’s lips twitch sadly.
“There’s no–”
“No, nu-uh, don’t start again, Benjamin,” Kenji shakes his head sternly. “I didn’t fight those lizards with my bare hands for you to die on me now.” He threatens Ben with his index finger and pretends that saying any of this out loud isn’t scary.
Ben snorts, an ugly wetness dragging the sound into an awkward gurgle.
“My hero,” he comments, eyelashes fluttering, and something in his voice suggests sarcasm, but the glaze taking over his vision seems to contradict it. For a moment, Ben is staring at Kenji unabashedly, as if he was contemplating something.
Kenji gulps anxiously. His throat suddenly dry.
“Okay, maybe I didn’t fight them with my bare hands exactly, I had–”
“Thank you,” Ben cuts right into the sentence and though his voice is quiet, it rings in Kenji’s ears louder than anything else.
“Of course, man,” Kenji delicately flicks Ben’s forehead, trying to loosen up the growing tension.
“No, seriously, Kenji,” Ben catches Kenji’s hand, fingers resting over his wrists once again. His movements are sluggish, slow, and Kenji could have easily escaped the touch but he hasn’t. Foolish body, falling to the whims of his heart. Ben licks his lips, and Kenji’s eyes – ever the slave to the charm of what he dreams of stealing – follow the motion. “You don’t even know what it means to me.”
Kenji tears his eyes away, and hopes that the dull pain and the fever do enough to distract Ben from Kenji’s ogling. God, he is quite pathetic.
“I told you,” Kenji clears his throat, “We need you.”
“Do you?”
Kenji turns his head away sharply, feeling as if he was slapped. Ben has always been a soft boy, hiding a knife in his pocket. He only ever pulls it out when he needs to, but when he does, the sharpness that blade glisters with always cuts deep – determined to reach the soft flesh of truth. Kenji loves that about Ben pretty much just as much as he hates it.
The inner side of Kenji’s cheek bleeds, warm liquid coating his tongue, tangy scent of disaster sitting deep in his throat. He swallows up the bloody saliva and rests the back of his head against the wall.
“Especially me,” he admits, and even though it was Ben who wields the knife, it is now Kenji who drags it over his own belly to spill the truth. He opens his eyes slowly, turns his head to look at Ben without a rush, knowing that all of it is about to fall apart like a house of cards. “I need you so much, you don’t even know how badly.”
A gasp teeters along the line of Ben’s mouth, his eyes are wide open, clouded with tenderness that Kenji does not deserve.
“Try me,” Ben whispers, even though Kenji imagines that by now – he must know.
He’s about to shake his head, say “this is not such a good idea, Benny boy,” but then his eyes drop to the stain darkening Ben’s hoodie. The blood doesn’t seem to dry, if anything the stain grows in size, slowly but surely – a visible reminder that yet another treasure may slip out of Kenji’s grasp if he’s not fast enough. Some thief he is. He takes a long inhale that reaches the marrow in his bones, and raises his gaze again.
“I cannot imagine my life without you.” His heart thumps loudly in his chest as he says it. He exhales loudly. That was the easy part. And Kenji, the man who always liked it easy, a boy ever so greedy, this time wants to make a point of choosing the hard way, of giving instead of taking. “I feel like… I wasted so much time. Minutes, hours, days, maybe weeks. I don’t know how long it’s been since it started catching up on me.” He swallows the lump in his throat and shifts to kneel in front of Ben, hands folded on his lap, head lowered like he was a criminal admitting to his crimes in front of the high court. “I never… I didn’t plan for this, you must understand, Ben. I never thought of… us,” he cringes slightly, “as the future, but now… Perhaps, I should have. Because the mere thought of the next morning without you feels like the worst nightmare.” He shudders. “I thought I lost you once and it taught me nothing. Now, I am regretting again and–”
He is cut off yet again. A cold hand rests upon his folded hands. This time, it is he who is shaking; this time Ben is the one who keeps his body from falling apart.
Kenji dares to lift his head, only a little bit. Just enough to catch the outline of Ben’s shaky breath and the beautiful hue of his hopeful eyes. Kenji inhales sharply.
“I need you, Ben,” he repeats. “As a friend, as a family, as a… beacon of the future.” His fingers flex nervously. “I’m in love with you, and I understand if you don’t feel the same, but–”
“Kenji, shut up.” Ben stops him, and Kenji blanches. He starts pulling away, shame eating him alive, when Ben’s fingers weakly squeeze his hand. “Don’t you dare run away now. You promised you won’t leave me.”
When Kenji glances at Ben, he thinks – ah, his pupils are so big, as if they were glazed with molasses, or dipped with honey. He cannot tell what’s responsible for such a look. Is it fever, or blood loss, or perhaps some sort of dream is clouding Ben’s vision into awe. Desperately, Kenji wants to believe it is the last one; because it would mean that he is a part of Ben’s dreams.
“I’m not leaving,” he whispers, and leans in.
His hand slides over Ben’s forehead, pushing the sweaty strands away, fingers gentle and careful not to take too much. He looks Ben in the eye, one last time, before he presses his lips to Ben’s forehead. Then – his cheek, pale even if warm with hope of a blush. Then – the tip of his nose, where he can feel how sharply Ben draws the oxygen into his lungs. Kenji brings his hand to cradle Ben’s cheek, and once again Ben tilts his head, pressing clammy skin into the head of Kenji’s palm. His eyes are closed now, heaviness dragging the eyelids down, and when Ben opens his mouth again, his tongue dances over the vowels – uncertain and out of place.
“Kiss me?”
Kenji doesn’t need to be asked twice.
He brings his lips to Ben’s carefully, slowly, and presses them together as if Ben was made of glass and flowers – fragile, breakable, vulnerable to touch. Kenji kisses him slowly, softly, sweetly, afraid of putting too much force, afraid of stealing when all he wants is give, give, give. Ben’s lips move against his hesitantly at first, and only once Kenji combs his fingers through Ben’s hair, he tilts his head back, inviting Kenji to press himself a little bit closer.
Ben returns the kiss like it’s a promise for the future. A promise of his own making – dubious, vague, undecided by heavens.
Kenji can taste death, sitting behind Ben’s teeth; he can smell the blood carried by Ben’s breath; he can feel the morbid chill of his skin. Still, no other kiss has ever carried this much hope.
He breaks the kiss quicker than he’d like, but the shortness of Ben’s exhale on his tongue suggests that he should not take any chances. Kenji’s been greedy enough. A weak boy he is nonetheless – almost leaning back in when Ben chases after his lips, before the back of his head collides with the wall again. Mesmerized, Kenji observes as Ben’s chest rises and falls rapidly, as his pale cheeks pinken subtly, as a tiny smile blooms in the corners of his lips.
“Who would’ve thought…” Ben says without opening his eyes, “that I’d have to be on a deathbed to find out that my feelings are returned.”
“Your feelings?” Kenji’s heart makes a flip.
Ben peeks one eye open, raises his eyebrow by a hair.
“I live needing you,” he says simply, and closes his eyes again.
Kenji parts his life, a million questions stuffing his mouth full, but then – for the second time, the lights flicker out, and the pod comes to a halt. Blue emergency light spills over their heads, but this time Ben’s eyes are not opened to match its color, and suddenly the danger peeking through the glass feels much more palpable.
Without hesitation, Kenji rises to his feet and reaches for his trusty laser prod.
He will make sure that Ben will have a chance to continue to live needing him.
As greedy as it sounds.
The morning arrives unwanted. It deepens the chill that the night carried. It drags the knife across the bones, splitting them open and filling them up with a sense of wrongness.
Kenji stands on the tiny airport and thinks of what he said to Ben just a handful of hours ago, when he thought that his world was crumbling down, but now he would do anything to return to that anxious breathlessness. It felt less final; it carried more hope.
The mere thought of the next morning without you feels like the worst nightmare – his own words echo in Kenji's ears, and he curses his phrasing. It is morning after all, and Ben is here – Kenji can see him lying on the stretcher – and realizes that perhaps this is the worst nightmare. Because now, he no longer has a steel prod to ward Ben, and chase the danger away. His hands are empty. Cold and clammy. The pain that was a distant echo in the hyperloop is now thrumming through his body. This pain and a promise he made are the only things he has left.
Don’t leave me alone.
"Wait! He can't be alone!" Kenji screams at the paramedics, "Someone should be there..."
He doesn't finish. His voice breaks. He wants to say – someone should be there to save him.
Seconds later, with a blessing from four friends, Kenji jumps into the helicopter and immediately reaches for Ben's hand, the same way Ben reached for his in the moments of doubt. His lips, dry and bloody from how hard Kenji is biting them, press against Ben's skin – his fingers do not twitch, do not move, but they do hide the words Kenji mouths.
“There is no way you will die as long as I am here, got it?”