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There’s no pattern to it. No way of predicting whether Ben wakes up more or less at his normal, or whether he struggles to consciousness. He's lucky if he can get out of bed at all. Brooklynn’s disabled all day every day in the exact same way, and Yaz’s flare ups at least have some form of logic to them, where more exertion on her ankle equals more pain. They have some semblance of control. But Ben’s body just does what it wants when it wants, leaving him at the mercy of his own symptoms.
So he wakes up on what’s supposed to be the best day of the year feeling dizzy, sore all over, his abdominal wound screaming, and so fatigued it feels like his bones are sinking into the mattress.
He tries to roll over. Key word: tries.
“Kenji... Kenji, help.” His words come out like a gasp, and every syllable aches in his throat.
Moving his head feels like a bowling ball is rolling around in his skull, so he looks around as far as his eyes can reach: there’s a distinct lack of someone curled up against him, so he’s almost certain Kenji’s up already — he always gets up early. Especially to prepare for some grand gesture for a day like Valentine’s day—
Oh fuck. Oh fuck! They had so many plans for today: they were going to go on a morning walk around the woods right by the Watering Hole, go to the spa, have a bath together, and go to their favourite diner in the evening. Even worse, Ben knew a flower patch in the woods Kenji always stops to admire, and he’d been planning to ask Yaz to go with him so Ben could pick some for Kenji. He was going to do it yesterday evening, but he just had to fall asleep on the sofa (although, he will admit being carried to bed in Kenji’s arms was nothing short of amazing) — and now he can’t. Even thinking of the day he was so looking forward to makes him feel exhausted to the bones. Now all their plans are ruined.
He’s so deep in self pity, he barely notices Kenji, wearing boxers and one of Ben’s band t-shirts, kicking the door open with a dramatic flourish.
“Gooood morning, my love—” His face shifts in instant realization. “Ben?”
“Hey... Kenji,” Ben says, smiling weakly.
“Oh gosh, are you okay?” Kenji says, his voice full of concern. He drops the grandeur act immediately and crawls into their bed, curling up beside him and placing his hand on Ben’s chest. “What’s wrong? Is it a flare up?”
“Mhm.”
“How bad?”
“Out of ten? Solid... nine.”
Kenji pushes himself onto his hands, so he can reach to kiss Ben’s cheek. “Aw, I’m sorry, baby.”
As he slots himself under Ben’s arm, resuming his usual spot with his head on Ben’s chest, Ben says, “I’m sorry. I— I— I know we had plans for today.”
“Hey, hey, none of that,” Kenji scolds, as stern as he can be considering he’s clinging to Ben like a koala. “It’s not your fault, ‘kay? You didn’t ask for this.”
“I know,” and a soft sob wrenches from Ben’s throat at the painful reminder. He didn’t ask for this. Fate just struck him, like a careless knife flung into a crowd that landed in his abdomen, and he has to live with these consequences for the rest of his life.
Ben quietly cries, and Kenji shushes him, his fingertips ghosting across Ben’s abdomen — he’s so careful to avoid Ben’s scars, taking a route around them he knows from memory of countless slow mornings spent like this. A song simmers in Kenji’s throat, nothing more than a hum, but it soothes the buzzing of pain and sickness and general discomfort like a blanket.
Kenji doesn’t rush him; it’s Ben who eventually says, “We should... do something today. Tr— try to, at least.” By something, he means he’ll rot on the sofa instead of bed, but if he had to choose between the two, he sleeps easier when he hasn’t spent the whole day in bed.
Kenji agrees, and rolls out of bed, taking Ben’s wheelchair and pushing it as close to the bed as possible. Then, he slides his arms around Ben’s back, and slowly guides him to a seated position, holding it for a whole second, before letting Ben collapse against him. His hands are stable yet gentle, a practiced dance that Ben wishes they didn't know the steps to. His head lolls helplessly onto Kenji’s shoulder, and Kenji frees a hand from where it rests around Ben’s waist to guide his head to a more comfortable position.
It’s then Ben realises: he physically cannot make himself do this.
“I’m... I think I need another person.” And for a terrifying moment, Ben thinks Kenji is going to leave him all alone, but he grabs his phone off the bedside table, and begins texting. “Yaz will help.”
Yaz! Right. With the flowers. Ben can still ask her to go, just... by herself. He’s sure she wouldn’t mind. Even the thought of going all the way out there makes Ben want to crawl back into bed.
Oh— but she probably has plans herself. She and Sammy are engaged, they probably want to do something special. His heart sinks into his chest, and it barely lifts when his best friend walks into the room.
“Morning, Pincus,” Yaz says, shrugging her jumper on — oh, God, he probably disturbed Yaz and Sammy’s ‘morning routine.’
“Mornin’ Fadoula.”
Yaz presses a gentle kiss to the side of Ben’s head. “You flaring up?”
“Yeah,” Ben and Kenji say at the same time.
“Oh— sorry,” says Kenji, his face flushing. “I don’t mean to speak over... yeah.”
“‘S okay.”
Yaz pointedly looks at them both. “So... you need my help?”
“Yeah, I can’t...”
Ben motions for Kenji to finish his sentence, and he says, “Transfer. With just me.”
“Okay,” Yaz says, and helps Kenji move Ben’s dead weight from the centre to the edge of the bed.
“Ready, big boy?” Kenji says — and in spite of the overwhelming shittiness of the day, Ben blushes.
“Yeah. Ready.”
Ben grits his teeth, and Yaz and Kenji slowly, carefully hoist him from the bed into his wheelchair, where he lands with a sinking thud.
They slowly remove their arms from around him. “How’re you feeling?” Asks Yaz.
“Mm... tired,” he says — because there is no way of verbalising this feeling. The sinking, swirling, dizzying, draining, completely overwhelming feeling. Where he’s more thankful than ever for the presence of a headrest on his wheelchair. When Kenji gently eases him into tilt-in space, and he feels some of his bones relax into the cushions on his wheelchair. It’s then he has no option but to stare at the ceiling as Kenji wheels him the short distance into the living room, and leaves his body to the mercy of Kenji and Yaz lifting him onto the sofa.
Kenji builds what the camp fam calls a ‘nest’ around Ben’s body, propping cushions around him until his body rests comfortably without him having to hold himself up. He sets an hour timer on his phone so he remembers to move Ben’s position to prevent pressure sores, before settling down, sliding in behind Ben with his arms wrapped gently around Ben’s torso.
Ben’s usually the little spoon when he’s flaring up. Though he’s usually the one holding Kenji any other time, he likes being held too. It was Kenji who held him in those fleeting moments between life and death all those years ago. Ben prefers being held while definitely alive, even if his body hasn’t gotten that memo today. Still, Kenji is more than happy to oblige. He nestles his nose in the crook of Ben’s neck, taking slow, deep breaths as he takes in Ben’s smell, like he’s trying to commit it to memory. It’s an odd thing to find so endearing, but Ben relaxes all the more.
“Mmf, babe?”
“Y— yeah?”
“What do you wanna do today? Yaz and Sammy have plans, and dinostar disappeared — probably causing chaos,” Kenji sleepily grabs his phone off the coffee table, and opens something on his notes app titled ‘couchbound activities’. “We can... watch sitcoms, cuddle, I can give you a massage, read to you, have— okay maybe not that one.”
“Kenji!” Ben’s face goes bright red.
“What? If you’re up for it, we could.”
“Maybe an— another day,” Ben says, the smile sliding off his face. Yet another way he can’t be the boyfriend Kenji deserves.
“How do the other ones sound?”
“All good,” says Ben, too numb and tired to inject emotion into his voice.
Kenji cranes his neck to look sideways at his boyfriend. “Babe? Are you alright?”
“Whaddya you think?” Ben says, entirely too snappishly, and the sharp breath grating against his ear is a clear indication he went too far. “I’m sorry. I’m just... we had plans f— for today.”
“And we can still do them! Some of them anyway.” Kenji hm’s. “But I’m nothing if not creative. We’re just gonna have to bend them a little bit. Now, what was on the cards?”
“Walk around the woods, spa, bath, diner,” Ben recites.
“Damn,” Kenji marvels. “You were looking forward to this, huh?”
“Duh.” Ben’s voice is equal parts fond and heartbroken. He loves being disabled, he really does. He takes so much pride in the resilience and patience and trust in others it’s taken him to get here. But there’s also the unfairness that makes him want to break down sobbing if he had the energy to do even that. The times his disability, no matter how well accommodated and well looked after he is, just limits him. It’s difficult. But it’s his life. And with the camp fam’s help, he picks up the pieces and keeps moving on.
“Well... we can head onto the, uh... the back porch and get some fresh air,” suggests Ben. “That’s k... kind of like a walk.”
“Oh— and we can have a bath, listen to that Lewis Capaldi album you love...”
“Divinely Uninspired?” Ben smiles at the thought. It’s odd to be so soothed by such heartbreaking songs, but they feel like napping on his bed in summer with the curtains shut.
“That’s the one!” Kenji does finger guns, and his signature ka-ching! noise. “Now the diner... I’ll have to think about it. Could you pass the remote, love?”
The nickname bringing a wave of giddiness to Ben’s chest, he hands it to Kenji, and watches as he queues up Superstore. Kenji shifts Ben a little closer, rubbing a hand up and down his chest in a way that brings goosebumps rolling down his skin.
And when he’s sure Kenji isn’t looking, Ben slides his phone out of his pocket, and texts Yaz:
GO GET THE FLOWERS!!! Please X
If he shuts his eyes, the steam is sort of like a spa. The jut of plastic on his body — though he logically knows it’s the same bath as usual — feels ten times more harsh. But the quietness is like a spa, it’s dark and dimly lit like a spa, and when he lets his eyelids part slightly, he looks at the steam dancing off the ceiling, and he can pretend he managed to leave the house today.
What is unusual is Kenji, spreading his arms across the bath rim, looking at him with a gaze that could only be described as heart-eyes as he fulfills his self-appointed ‘lifeguard’ duty — which Ben knew better than to insist was unnecessary. He hasn’t had a seizure in three weeks, and no heart episode in four days, which only Kenji insisted was all the more reason to be careful.
Unless they’re with other people in the steam rooms, they usually end up making out. But Kenji was insistent Ben wouldn’t overexert himself. “Don’t want you to have a heart episode because you can’t handle all of this,” he joked, and Ben called him a jackass as he laughed with all the energy he could.
Kenji shifts closer to Ben’s head, and reaches to stroke his hair off his forehead. A sigh of relief slips out of Ben’s mouth before he can stop it.
“You’re cute,” Kenji says.
“Cute enough t... to make out with?” Ben teases.
“You’re already tired, baby, I don’t want you falling asleep in the bath.”
Ben pouts.
“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I respect your body enough to honour its limits.”
“You respect my body, huh?”
“Course.”
Ben gives the most seductive look he can manage. “Prove it.”
Kenji laughs, the tips of his ears going red with embarrassment. “When you’re feeling better, sure.”
“Aw, don’t I get at... at least one kiss?”
Kenji bends forward and kisses Ben, soft and sweetly.
“Mm. Thanks, Kenji.”
“Always.” Kenji gets up, and sits on the rim of the bath. It’s then Ben properly realises he’s completely shirtless — and he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the sight of his soft, scarred body in the candlelight. Now is not the time for acting on those desires, but he can’t wait for when it is.
“Seen something you like, pretty boy?” Kenji smirks.
Ben scowls, knowing his skin is going bright red all over, and the teasing look Kenji is giving him makes him slightly want to stick his head underwater.
“Trust me, baby,” Kenji kicks his feet up, propping them against the wall, “you would be lucky to—”
“Fuck!” Ben screams as Kenji loses balance and topples backwards, landing in the bath with a colossal splash.
Kenji looks up, and combs his dripping hair off his forehead in one smooth gesture. “I would be lucky to fuck you, actually.”
“God, Kenji!” Ben exclaims — but in spite of it all, he’s laughing.
The bath takes a lot out of him, and the moment Kenji finishes drying him off and helping him into fresh clothes, he falls asleep pretty much instantly.
When he wakes up, the sky is several shades darker, and there’s a message on his dresser:
Dear Ben and Kenji,
Happy Valentine’s day to our favourite people to have double dates with!
Lots of love,
Yaz and Sammy 🖤💕
And the flowers, tied with green ribbon, neatly contained in a blue vase, on the floor beside him.
Thank you, Yaz, Ben says in his head. His face remains unchanged, but on the inside, he is beaming.
Kenji left Ben’s phone within reach, and, thanking him for being so thoughtful, he unlocks it and checks his notifications, his heart rising...
No new messages.
Ben’s heart sinks, and his head crashes back onto the pillow, taking his heart with him. His phone flops defeatedly to the side. If Kenji isn’t here, Ben thought he would’ve at least texted him. He always texts him.
He puts a general announcement on the camp fam group chat anyway.
Ben: Anyone seen Kenji?
Yaz replies almost immediately.
He went out an hour ago, he said he would be back at five.
He looks at the time. 5:04. Not enough to panic, but enough to make him worried.
Are you okay? Sammy and I just left for dinner, but we’ll come back if you need us.
No, don’t worry! Ben frantically messages before he throws yet another wrench in their plans. I’m fine, I just woke up. Thank you ❤️💐, adding the flower emojis in the hopes Yaz will pick up his hidden message.
Anytime Pincus ;)
Yep. Message received.
I’ll go back to bed now, he sends before locking his phone and placing it on the dresser.
But even when he shuts his eyes and wills himself to sleep, he can’t make himself. He can’t switch off the worry, no matter how irrational it may be, that... he doesn’t even know what, but he has an unshakeable sense that something’s wrong. Maybe Kenji got hurt. Maybe Kenji decided he doesn’t want to be with someone like Ben. Maybe Ben just needs to sleep.
Five minutes later, the door flings open and a whirlwind of several bags crash through.
“Hey sleepyhead!”
“H... hey, Kenj.” Ben cranes his neck, rubbing his eyes. He tries to prop himself onto his elbows, but his wound screams, and he lets out a sharp hiss of pain.
“Hey, woah, woah, woah, take it easy, okay?” The bags drop with a thud of crinkling plastic, and Kenji rushes to his side, slipping his arm around Ben’s back, slowly guiding him to sit up.
Ben’s head lolls into the cradle of Kenji’s shoulder. “Mm, thanks baby.”
“No need to thank me.”
Ben smiles sleepily. “Hey, where were you?”
“Drum roll please?”
His heart leaping into his throat with anticipation, Ben taps his fingers against the duvet with as much force as he can muster, and Kenji reveals several tupperwares full of food Ben can’t quite make out.
“Ta da!”
“Uh... what am I looking at?”
“The food from our favourite diner!” Kenji exclaims. “They don’t do takeaway, so I ordered for us, and snuck it out when they weren’t looking. It was pretty easy,” Kenji brags in the lighthearted way of his where Ben knows he’s joking. “I just had to use the art of subtly— hey, Ben are you...”
Ben sniffs, blinking tears out of his eyes. “I love you, Kenji.” His words cough out of his mouth, like a weak, dying bird.
Kenji sits on the bed and carefully crawls towards him. Helping Ben sit up, he slips his whole body behind Ben’s, so Ben doesn’t have to do anything but let his aching muscles lean into him. “I love you too, baby.”
“I don’t know why.”
Kenji gives him a strange look. “What do you mean?”
He means that he’s heard stories of people, even the good ones, breaking up with their newly-disabled partners because it got too much. He means he sometimes puts on a front, no matter how consciously, of acting more ‘normal’ so Kenji won’t stop loving him. He means he sometimes asks the others to take care of him through flare ups instead of Kenji, because he doesn’t want him to become disgusted.
And he would say all of this, but he doesn’t have the mental energy to form words, doesn’t have the energy to make his mouth say it, and all he gets out is, “I’m... a— a lot to handle.”
“You are six foot five,” Kenji jokes, and it somehow makes Ben smile slightly. “But seriously, Ben, I love you. More than life itself. I don’t know how to verbalise how much I love you, but... take my word for it, yeah? And— and I won’t stop loving you because you’re disabled, and need taking care of sometimes.”
Ben believes him — his brain just won’t let him believe it. But Kenji’s words feel warm nonetheless, and he says, “Th... thanks, Kenj.”
“Anytime.” Kenji twists to the side to kiss his cheek. “Now let’s watch a sitcom, ‘kay? I’ll let you pick.”
“Well if I’m picking...” Ben pauses in mock-thought, “I wanna say, uh... Seinfeld, but I know you hate that one.”
“Cos it’s boring!”
“No it isn’t!” Ben laughs. “Ok— okay, okay, fine. Family guy?”
“Yeah, course.”
And as Kenji unlocks his laptop, he says, “And I’d watch whatever you want, by the way. Even Seinfeld.”
Ben can already feel himself getting dozy. “You love me, huh?”
“More than anything in the world,” Kenji says, kissing his cheek.
And as Ben drifts into something that isn’t quite as peaceful as sleeping, he thinks that today wasn’t so bad after all.