Archive of Our Own

“Kuni.”

“Hmm?”

They are walking down a forest trail, surrounded by morning fog. When Kazuha speaks, his breath mists around his mouth. Despite the biting cold, Kazuha’s insides are warm like a winter hearth. 

“I have something to say.”

Kuni turns around. He’s in his work-out clothes. They’re unflattering. And yet Kazuha is floored by his overwhelming beauty, the grace in his movements, the pull in his eyes. Kazuha is well and truly gone, and this time he makes no effort to hide it. This time, despite his hammering heart, despite his frozen limbs, he speaks without reserve.

“I’m in love with you.”

Only silence. It cuts Kazuha’s skin.

“I’ve been in love with you for years now. I’m tired of being afraid so I’m finally saying it. I love you, so completely it tears me apart every day.”

More terrible silence. 

“I’m yours. If you want me.”

Now that Kazuha has nothing left to say, he has no choice but to look at Kuni in wait. Kuni lets the silence fester. At last, Kazuha concedes. 

“Will you say nothing?”

Kuni seems to snap out of a trance. He stares at his feet. “I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“That if I answer, I’ll lose you.”

And that’s answer enough. Kazuha turns sharply on his feet and runs away, down the forest path. Kazuha hadn’t dared treat this as a possibility. It hits him square in the chest, mangling his insides. Heart pounding, breaths ragged, he runs. His legs are turning numb, but he runs, lines of trees zipping on either side of him like a film reel. At one point he stumbles over an overgrown root and comes tumbling down. 

He hits the ground hard. All the fight leaves him. And he lies there on his back, staring at pockets of the sky among the forest canopy. Tears blur his vision and then slide down his temple. They vanish into the mud. Kazuha’s grateful that the forest can hide all his shame. 

But then. Then there are footsteps and Kazuha is afraid that he’ll see. See exactly what he does to Kazuha’s soul, how battered he has left him. But he can’t move. The forest soil sticks to him like glue. 

“Kazuha!”

And then there he is, sprinting toward Kazuha. Sweaty and breathless and gorgeous. 

“Who the fuck just runs away like that?” Kuni pants. He leans his weight on his knees, huffing in large breaths. Then he looks at Kazuha on the ground. “Did you fucking trip? Clumsy idiot.”

He kneels next to Kazuha. His trousers are all dirty now. But Kuni is unbothered and holds out his hand. “Here, let me help you up.”

Kazuha tries to fold himself inwards. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m not gonna leave you alone in the damn forest.” Kuni wiggles his fingers. “Now get up already.”

Kazuha wishes the ground would open up and drag him down. Maybe then the ache in his chest would go away. “I said leave me alone!”

Kuni flinches. 

“You’ve already done enough. I can get home by myself.”

“I—Kazuha, we can still be—”

“Friends? No.” Kazuha laughs. Even the thought is absurd. Being friends with Kuni after Kazuha opened himself only to get nothing in return. “I’ll move out today.”

Kuni looks at him for a long moment, then laughs in disbelief. “What, you’re gonna cut me off completely?”

“That’s the plan.”

Silence stretches between them again. Kuni stares at him until tears start leaking out of his eyes. He sniffles and wipes them away, standing on shaky legs. “Fine. I’ll stay at Childe’s today, so you can pack in peace.”

And then he walks away. 

Kazuha remains on the ground as dead maple leaves rain down on him.

In the forest, time flows like honey. Past sticks to present so closely it’s hard to tell the difference. In the haunting silence, in the absolute absence of movement, seconds can stretch into hours without anyone noticing. The only way Kazuha can feel time at all is through the changing colours of the sky. Orange to pink to the softest blue. 

The trees sway, and the dying leaves clinging to them are swept away in the wind. Some fall to the ground, some crown Kazuha’s head, some land on his chest, tickling his skin in consolation. The greens and the blues all melt together around him. Kazuha’s trapped in a canvas, and the next brush stroke, he hopes, will blot him out. 

In that timeless forest as twilight approaches, so does another gentle presence, unnoticed by reality itself. Quietly, the presence brushes against Kazuha and his breath stutters. Spider threads trail along his skin, and tangled in them, Kazuha finds peace. 

And the presence shows Kazuha’s fate another path. One that leads straight to Raiden Kunikuzushi.

Kazuha is burning. The fire creeps up his arms and licks his face. It muddles his thoughts and snuffs out any sounds he makes. Everything but the fire on his skin fades away. It hurts. 

“Oh gods. Scara! There he is!”

Someone is running toward him. He thinks he should get up, defend himself. But he’s paralysed. And then someone’s next to him, knees knocking on the ground hard. 

“Kazuha?”

He thinks he whines in pain. This seems to distress the voice even further. 

“Fuck.” 

Something touches his face. The fire dies and ice coats his skin. Any pain he was feeling vanishes and he sighs in relief. 

“Kazuha?”

The cool touch leaves his face, and immediately the pain is back. The fire roars to life. And Kazuha screams. It hurts, he wants to yell, but all that comes out are cries of pain.

“Fuck, fuck. What’s going on?”

Then two hands cup his face. And he takes a loud breath because the fire’s gone again. Cool air wraps around him. There are voices and Kazuha can barely focus enough to understand them.

“Dude.”

“What the actual fuck.”

“I think you should keep—touching him.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious. I think it makes him feel better.”

“Whatever. Help me carry him.”

“How about I carry him? You just hold his hand.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Then Kazuha’s being lifted. Strong arms wrap around him. The touch on his face is still there, and then a hand slips into his. More cool relief surges up in him and he sighs. The hand clasps his more tightly. And then they’re moving. 

Kazuha, now, can finally open his eyes. 

And he sees Kuni, staring at him with worried eyes. He startles when he realises Kazuha’s looking back at him. 

“Just rest, idiot. We’re taking you to the hospital.”

Kazuha squeezes Kuni’s hand. “Don’t let go.”

And Kuni doesn’t.

Kazuha doesn’t sleep on the way to the hospital. Instead, he stares intently at Kuni. At the building concern in his eyes and the scrunch in his nose. Kuni resolutely looks anywhere but at Kazuha. And yet he does not let go of Kazuha’s hand. Swelling out of that touch is icy relief and Kazuha holds on to it like a lifeline, trembling at the thought of the pain that could devour him if he lets go.

So, they rush out of the forest, to Kuni’s car. It’s tricky trying to maneuver Kazuha into the backseat without losing contact with Kuni’s skin. Kuni has to go in first. Kazuha tries his best to balance himself as he shifts from Childe’s hold into the car, all the while Kuni’s clasping his hand. 

Finally, they’re both settled, hands held. 

“You should lay down,” Kuni says. 

Resentment is still bubbling under Kazuha’s skin. He lets it win. “I’m fine,” he grinds out.

“Fine?” The car engine starts. Kuni stares at him. “You were in that forest for fourteen hours! In the same damn spot I left you in, fucking whimpering in pain, and completely out of it. You are not fine, so lie the fuck down right now.”

Childe, not very discreetly, whispers a ‘wow’ and then hits the gas. The car takes off, gliding on the lonely road. Kazuha chooses to ignore everything Kuni said and stares at the blur of lamplights passing them by through the window, well aware that Kuni’s hand is still in his. And he’s afraid of letting go.

And then Kuni loops his free arm around Kazuha’s shoulders and forces him to lie down. Kazuha struggles in vain, his strength is all gone after that day long escapade in the forest. He’s also pretty sure he’s dehydrated. So Kuni doesn’t have to expend a lot of effort to make Kazuha lie on the backseat, with his head in Kuni’s lap. 

“Idiot. Will you stop icing me out for one minute so we can figure this shit out?”

Kazuha squirms. Kuni takes this as a sign of physical discomfort and cups his face again. “Better?”

And it is better. Whatever vestiges of pain were left vanish immediately. Kazuha cannot help but sigh. 

“Now, will you tell me what the fuck you were doing in that forest?”

Kazuha doesn’t really have an answer to that question. He remembers lying there in almost a trance, unsure of how much time had passed. He remembers he had the intention to get up and leave. He does not remember falling asleep. Just the fire on his skin when he woke up. He was sure he’d been dragged down to hell.

“I don’t know. I guess I fell asleep.”

Kuni snorts. “More like passed out. When was the last time you drank water?”

Kazuha thinks. “I don’t know. Morning?”

“Idiot. Childe, give me the water bottle. It’s in the passenger seat.” Childe does. And Kuni very cleverly holds the bottle between his arm and chest and uncaps it with his chin. Then he’s holding the bottle next to Kazuha’s mouth. “Drink up.”

Kazuha drinks and coolness spreads in his insides. When he’s finished, he makes a satisfied sound. Kuni rolls his eyes at him. There’s a strange fondness in his voice when he speaks.

“Fucking idiot.” 

When they finally make it to hospital, a gurney is waiting for him. The nurses make the mistake of trying to separate him from Kuni. And Kuni practically screams at them to step back. He asks them to slide the gurney to his side, and then slips out of the car, hand still in Kazuha’s. 

Kazuha follows him out and the nurses hoist him onto the gurney. He lies down and the gurney starts moving. At one point, Childe gets dragged away to fill an admittance form. But Kuni’s right with him when they enter the emergency room. 

A doctor sidles up next to them. The nurses part to make way for her. 

“So,” she asks Kazuha. “What’s wrong?”

Kuni answers for him. “Passed out in a forest. Dehydrated. Hasn’t eaten since morning. And apparently if I let go of him, he feels a lot of—pain.”

The doctor makes a displeased face at Kuni, then turns once again to Kazuha. “Is that true?”

Kazuha nods. 

“Can you describe the pain to me?”

“Like fire,” Kazuha says. “It feels like my skin is burning.”

“What else?”

“It’s hard to breathe or . . . focus. Feels dizzy.”

The doctor hums. “How about you let go of his hand for a moment, so we can see your symptoms?”

Kazuha’s breath catches in his throat. He shakes his head and squeezes Kuni’s hand even tighter. Kuni squeezes back. “I can’t. It’ll hurt.”

“We have to see how your body responds to make any kind of diagnosis, Kazuha.”

“I—”

Kuni leans over him. “Hey. Don’t worry, if it starts to hurt I’ll just hold your hand again. I’ll be right next to you.”

Kazuha nods. He takes a deep breath, and then lets go. 

There’s no heat, no burning pain. Just the same cool, sterile air of the hospital. He looks at Kuni. “I—I don’t feel anything.

“Anything at all.”

Kunikuzushi, despite half-hearted protests from Kazuha, brings him to their apartment. And as soon as they get past the genkan, Tama scurries up to them, clawing at Kazuha’s legs. Kazuha does the only reasonable thing and picks her up, brushing her fur. She purrs, content. 

“I was gone for a long time, wasn’t I?” Kazuha says. “I’m sorry, my love.”

Their living room, normally bathed in soft yellows, is dark and monotone. Kuni walks past them and throws his keys on the coffee table, flipping a switch to turn the overhead lights on. He shrugs his jacket off and makes a face at Kazuha and Tama. “Stop licking the damn cat.”

“He doesn’t mean that,” Kazuha tells Tama, nuzzling her. 

Kuni just rolls his eyes. He tugs up his sleeves and makes his way to the kitchen, snatching his apron from the wall hook. He pokes his head into the fridge and searches for any viable ingredients. Kazuha walks up next to him, Tama still in his arms. 

“You don’t have to cook for me.”

Kuni pulls out frozen chicken from the freezer. “I want to.” He fills a large bowl with water, leaving the chicken in it to thaw it out. “And you don’t get a say. You’re sick.”

“I am not. And besides, I’m still moving out, so—”

Kuni turns to him. Kazuha is almost amused by the contrast of his angry face against the cat-print, pink apron. “We can discuss that later, when you’re not dehydrated and starving.”

“The IV helped,” Kazuha mumbles. 

“I’m cooking. And you’ll eat.”

And so, Kazuha finds himself sitting at the coffee table, chopsticks in hand. Kuni plates the chicken with rice for him, and pours iced tea into a glass. He slides it to Kazuha. And Kazuha has no choice but to eat. Kuni stares at him the whole time and by the time he finishes eating, Kuni has a napkin ready. He takes the dirty plates and deposits them into the sink. 

Kazuha stares at his back, at the apron string tied around his waist. He wants to undo it. And just as quickly the urge springs up, Kazuha pushes it down. These are dangerous thoughts, he reminds himself. And yet. Yet. He needs to know. Perhaps that tiny flicker of hope could be fanned into a fire. Maybe, maybe.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks. 

“Doing what?” Kuni asks, rinsing a plate. 

“Taking care of me?”

Kuni scoffs. “Because I care about you, idiot.”

“But not in the way I want you to.”

And Kuni stiffens, hands slowing down. “I told you we’d talk about it later.”

But Kazuha has held back long enough. His heart demands answers. “Is there someone else? Or am I just so undesirable?”

Kuni’s hand tightens around the plate and he wipes it clean almost aggressively. “Later.”

“I want to talk about it now!” Kazuha yells. “You can’t just keep pretending this morning never happened! I told you I love you, Kuni, and you keep running away from it, but cling onto me anyway. And you can’t have it both ways. So, I—need a clear answer.” He stands up, hands bunched up at his sides. “Do you love me back or not?”

Kuni does not dare face him, the slightest tremble in his voice. “Why can’t it just be the way it was? Why can’t I love you the way I want to?”

“Because I want to touch you!” Kazuha screams. A mirthless laugh rips itself out from his chest. “I want to kiss you. I want your hands on my skin and my lips on yours. I want you to fuck me. And I can’t keep pretending that it’s not what I want anymore. I just can’t.”

Kuni’s shoulders are shaking. His back is turned to Kazuha but he still shies away. “Then I’m sorry.”

And when Kazuha leaves, slamming the door behind him, Kunikuzushi stands alone in the flickering light of their kitchen, wiping his tears away before they can fall.

Kazuha never makes it to Heizou’s house. 

The world wobbles and Kazuha slips. The ground rushes up to meet him. The fire returns and the flames rise higher this time. The pain crashes into him slowly like an ocean tide. It steals the breath from his lungs, colours the world red. Kazuha lies dying on the sidewalk with only the moon and moths chasing light for company. 

In the agony, he can’t even string two thoughts together. His limbs remain cemented to the ground. And whenever a rare car passes him, they just assume he’s a lonely drunkard and speed away. 

The fire eats away at his skin, and all Kazuha can do is cry without a sound.

Time flows and he registers it in some small corner of his mind. He tries to keep track of it. One, two, three seconds. And then another bout of pain makes him lose count. So he tries to judge the moon’s location in the sky. It moves in a half-circle, nudged a little lower whenever he looks at it. 

At one point, Kazuha loses the strength to open his eyes at all. Loses any sense of touch, only the solid ground under his back reminds him he has a body. He registers the pain as a vague noise now, muffled by the waves of heat crashing into him. 

And then.

“Kazuha!”

I’m here, he wants to yell, but no muscle in his body works at all. The ground pulls him closer. He slips and slides, slips and slides. 

“Fuck, fuck! KAZUHA!”

I’m here. Please, I’m right here. Help me.

The crunch of the roadside gravel is fading. The footsteps are trudging away from him. Kazuha’s voice is still stuck in his throat. Kuni takes in a rough breath, a half-sob. “Where are you?”

Then a voice booms right over him. “Get off the sidewalk, asshole!” Someone kicks his ribs, the sole of a shoe pushing him aside in disgust. “Fucking disgrace.”

“Hey! Get the fuck off him!”

Footsteps, racing toward him, each step faster than before. 

Kazuha wants to reach out to that voice, to that cool, cool touch but the ground is hot charcoal, his limbs shackled in iron. He slips down. But then hands tug at his clothes, pull him out of the water, into waiting arms. Ice-cold hands find his face, and the heat vanishes. 

He heaves a breath, then two, struggling to get closer to that touch. 

“I’m here! Fuck, I’m here, Zuha.” One of the hands slips away from his face and he whines for it, trying to find it with fumbling arms. “I need it to call an ambulance. Just—just wait a second, okay?”

Sharp dialing sounds and then a beep. The phone rings and someone picks up. Sunlight assaults his eyes when he opens them. Kuni yells directions into the phone, then quickly pockets it. He slips his now free hand onto Kazuha’s forehead. His thoughts become less muddled, the sounds clearer, the world sharper. He sighs, snuggling himself closer to Kuni’s chest, clutching his shirt to keep himself tethered. 

He closes his eyes, sure now that there would be no more pain. Just before sleep claims him, he imagines a feather-light kiss on his forehead, and a mumble of, “I’m so sorry.”

Kazuha wakes up surrounded by white. The only colour in the room comes from his blue hospital gown. And Kuni, wearing a black tee and black jogger pants, currently snoring in an uncomfortable, rickety chair, right hand in Kazuha’s. Kazuha shakes his arm and he wakes slowly. 

“How long?” Kazuha asks, pushing himself up to sit. He makes sure his hand remains in Kuni’s. 

Kuni rubs the grogginess out of his eyes. “Three hours, I think. They gave you another IV.”

Kazuha’s eyes trail the long tube to find it attached to a plastic bag filled with what he presumes is a mix of glucose and analgesics. “What happened?”

Kuni shifts in his chair a little, squeezing Kazuha’s hand almost imperceptibly. “Heizou was waiting for you in his apartment but you never showed up. So he called me. He, Childe and I spent the entire night searching for you. I only found you this morning on that sidewalk.”

His breath catches at the end. And Kazuha really looks at him. Disheveled, knotted hair, angry red eyes, mud on his skin and clothes. And clearly disguising his yawns as sighs. Despite himself, Kazuha smiles. “You look like a mess.”

Kuni smiles back. “Not as much as you,” he says.

“What was it like when you found me?” He knows it can’t have been a pretty sight. He remembers it all in fragments. Pain and heat, then Kuni’s cool hands on his skin. All the while he was barely aware of what was happening. 

Kuni looks away. “We don’t have to talk about that. Just—get some more rest. I’ll keep holding your hand.”

And then it hits Kazuha. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Kuni asks, eyebrows scrunched together.

“You have to keep touching me, holding my hand,” Kazuha says. “I know you don’t want to.”

Kuni is quiet for a long moment. His voice is uncharacteristically small when he speaks. “I guess.”

The door opens, hinges creaking. The doctor from the other night walks in. She’s holding a tablet and nudges up her glasses as she walks over to them. Glancing at their hands still clasped together, she says, “You’re awake, Kazuha.”

Kazuha just nods. 

The doctor sighs. She pushes Kazuha’s hair aside and places her hand on his forehead. She takes his pulse, listens to his breathing. Then she puts her stethoscope around her neck again and says, “I’m Doctor Hayashi.” She spares a look at her tablet. “So, your symptoms came back? Your friend tells me he found you passed out on a sidewalk.”

Kazuha nods again. “It was really sudden. I just started feeling really dizzy and fell. After that, I couldn’t move.”

“How long were you there?”

Kazuha looks at Kuni, squeezes his hand. “I remember it was around midnight when I fell.”

“So six hours,” Kuni says. “I found him at 6:15 in the fucking morning.”

Hayashi lowers her tablet. “You said you couldn’t move. Were you paralysed?”

Kazuha thinks back to last night. He remembers trying to lift his arm, to reach for Kuni’s voice. But he couldn’t even open his eyes. “I think so, yes.”

“And were you aware for most of that time?”

Kazuha shakes his head. “It’s pretty fuzzy. I mostly just remember the pain. And the heat.”

“Okay, then,” Hayashi says. She looks at their hands. “I need you to let go of his hand. We need to know if there’s a lag time and how long it is.”

Kuni squints at her. “No, we don’t. I don’t have to let go.”

“We can’t form any treatments unless we have a diagnosis. And frankly, it’s medically impossible that your touch alone eases his symptoms, so it’s probably just a placebo,” Hayashi says. “We need to see how his body reacts when the comfort of that touch is gone.”

Kazuha blinks at her. Kuni squeezes his hand almost painfully tighter. He looks down, voice jagged. “You—you don’t know what it’s like. I saw what it does to him. I just don’t want—”

“Hey,” Kazuha says. Kuni looks up at him, eyes watery. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that. But we’ve gotta figure this out.” He squeezes Kuni’s hand, offering him the gentlest smile he can muster. “It’ll be fine.”

Kuni takes in a shaky breath, then sits back. “Fine.”

Then he lets go. 

Kazuha searches for the pain. It would start with just a light thrum on his skin at first. Almost an itch. Then it would consume him like a flashfire. But there’s nothing, no pain or even a trace of feverish heat. The air is comfortable and cold on his skin. He waits for a good five minutes, Kuni looking ready to jump at him at first call, Hayashi just staring at him in anticipation. 

When he’s sure there’s nothing, he says, “I don’t feel anything.”

Hayashi sighs. “So there is a lag period. We need to time it.” She scribbles something on her tablet, then looks at Kuni through her narrow glasses. “You go home and rest in the meantime. Maybe shower. The nurses will help Kazuha clean up. The IV’s almost done.”

Kuni glares at the doctor. “I’m not going anywhere. He could need me at any moment.”

“Well, Kazuha’s my patient and he needs to be alone right now,” says Hayashi. “So, why don’t you just scurry along, kid.”

Kuni just settles deeper into his chair, arms crossed. “Fuck off.”

Hayashi sighs, then gives a helpless look to Kazuha. “Is he always this difficult?”

Kazuha cannot help a small chuckle. “Sometimes, yes.”

“Fine,” Hayashi says. “But make sure to clean up. You can use the hospital bathrooms.” She turns around to go, then seems to remember something and turns back again. “Oh and absolutely no touching until Kazuha feels his symptoms coming on. Got it?” She stares intently at them.

“Of course.”

“Whatever.”

Then she’s gone. Kuni sulks in his chair for a while, but then the nurses come and practically shove him out of the room. They help Kazuha clean up, change his sheets, give him orange juice and a sandwich. They take turns patting his head before leaving. Kazuha smiles at them gratefully. 

Kuni comes back shortly after. He looks like he showered, dressed in fresh clothes, hair untangled. 

“Who got you the clothes?” Kazuha asks, sipping his orange juice.

“Mom brought them over. She also fed Tama, so don’t worry.”

Kazuha puts down his juicebox. “Ei’s here?”

Kuni flops in his chair. “Yeah. Was all fussy so I sent her home.”

“She’s your mom, of course she’s gonna worry,” Kazuha says. “Have you eaten?” Kuni is silent. “Kuni.”

“I don’t have an appetite right now, Kazuha. Drop it.”

Kazuha furrows his brows. He reaches over to take Kuni’s hand, and then reminds himself what Hayashi had said. “This morning. It’s still bothering you.”

Kuni looks away, crossing his arms. “Of course it is, idiot. I thought you were fucking dead,” he says. “And I know you hate me right now, but I still care about you. Maybe not in the way you want, but I do. And it messes me up when you get hurt.”

And Kazuha can’t lie. It stings. Because there it is again, right in his face. Not in the way you want. It’s almost cruel that the person he wants to run far away from is stuck with him, a constant living reminder of everything he can’t have. Every possibility of it, every string of hope got torn to shreds yesterday. And he’s blamed all of it onto Kuni, as if he chooses not to love Kazuha the way Kazuha loves him. And so what if Kuni doesn’t want him that way? Maybe he can satisfy himself with the little things.

Like Kuni holding his hand. Kuni wiping his tears away when he cries. Kuni tucking him into bed when he’s sick. The way he hums his favourite tunes when no one’s looking, the adorable scrunch in his nose, his snarkiness and his cocky smile. Kazuha can pretend it’s what he wants for a little longer if he gets to have all this in his life, have Kuni love him, even if it’s not in the way he wants.

Yes, he concludes, I can pretend a little longer.

“I’m sorry,” he says, blinking the moisture out of his eyes. “I’ve been treating you terribly since yesterday. And it’s not your fault.” He holds out his pinky. “Friends?”

Kuni’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but he pulls out his hand anyway. “Friends.”

Sitting a foot apart, they curl their pinkies toward each other. And that’s enough.

Even in his dreams, Kazuha sees Kunikuzushi with painful clarity. Tonight, golden light spills onto him, the wind sings in whispers around him, and all the world’s colours fade next to his brilliant smile. Kazuha’s agonised heart flips at the sight of him. 

Kazuha would cleave himself open if it meant Kunikuzushi would touch him. Maybe those slender fingers would roam his skin, discovering little corners that make him squirm. Maybe those lips would suck bruises into his neck, kiss his mouth, devour him in a rush of heat. 

And Kazuha would come alive. The world would jump into focus, vividly real. But tonight, he satisfies himself with impossible dreams, laughing breathlessly against Kuni’s lips.

For now, this is enough. It has to be.

Kazuha squirms, trying to get rid of the heat beneath his skin. Invisible fingers drum along his arm with every pulse. It’s coming back. It’s coming back. Kazuha wants to call out to Kuni while he is still aware enough to, but his mouth is stuffed with cotton. He can't even make a sound.

Then the door opens.

“Kazuha!” Hurried footsteps and then. Cool relief, rushing in from his face. Kazuha sighs. 

He opens his eyes. Kuni’s face is hovering above him, contorted in worry. He cups Kazuha’s face with both his hands. Kazuha breathes slowly, then opens his mouth to speak, his voice coarse and dry. “How long?”

Kuni glances at the wall clock, then shakes his head. “Less than an hour.”

Kazuha closes his eyes. There’s an itch, like ants crawling on his arms. Heat builds under his skin, embers breathed back to life. Kuni’s holding his face and it’s still there. It’s still there. “It’s not enough,” he says. 

Kuni’s fingers dig into his face. “What?” 

“It’s not enough,” Kazuha breathes. The fire is back, creeping up his arms. And the touch on his face is just not enough to douse it out. “Please. Kuni, it’s not enough.” Awareness is slipping from him, his thoughts fuzzy and mixed. “Please,” he begs.

“Fuck. Fuck.” 

Then Kuni’s taking the hospital gown off him. He tries his best to make the process faster, but the pain is getting louder. He whines at Kuni to make it go away. There’s some shuffling, a rustle of clothes sliding against skin, and then Kuni’s bare chest presses firmly against his. Kuni’s arms wrap around his back to push Kazuha further into himself, clawing like they’re struggling to find purchase. 

And. Kazuha floats underwater, every last flame smothered. Relief surges up in him, and he breathes. Then, clarity. 

He opens his eyes. Kuni’s wrapped around him in a bear hug, his shirt discarded on the chair. Kuni only pulls him impossibly closer. His chest is cool against Kazuha’s. The contact feels heavenly. But a different kind of pleasure is budding in his stomach. And he should pull away, but the thought of it alone terrifies him. So he just clings to Kuni, pretending it does nothing to his heart.

“Hey,” Kuni says, fingers stroking the back of Kazuha’s neck. “Okay?”

“Yes,” says Kazuha. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Kazuha buries his face into Kuni’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Kuni says, hand buried into Kazuha’s hair. He clings tighter, as if he too is afraid of letting go.

“I know it must be uncomfortable,” Kazuha says. Tears threaten to spill out of his eyes. It’s so, so cruel. Kazuha has the touch he’s been aching for, but the intention is all wrong. There’s no want between them. Just a necessity. And yet, his heart races, because it still feels good. Even when Kuni doesn’t want it, it feels so good. “I’m so sorry,” he says, shameful.

“Shut up,” Kuni says. He sounds almost angry, voice brittle. “This isn’t bothering me so quit feeling sorry, you idiot.”

“You can let go whenever you want to.”

Kuni tugs him closer. “Well, maybe I don’t want to.”

Kazuha smiles. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Don’t be afraid.”

Kuni muffles his next words into Kazuha’s shoulder. “Fuck you.” Tears drip onto Kazuha’s skin, and Kuni’s fingers grip his neck harder. “Fuck you.”

And maybe this really is enough.

Later, they lie on that narrow hospital bed. The only way for them to fit was for Kazuha to lie on top of Kuni. The good part is that this position maximises skin to skin contact between them. The bad part—Kazuha can feel Kuni’s ribs dig into him when he exhales, feel his skin turn warm under Kazuha’s body. Heat pools in Kazuha’s belly, and every time he squirms in effort to dissipate it, Kuni holds him tighter. Worried that the pain will be back. 

Twilight fades into dusk outside their window. They had already updated Hayashi on the situation and she advised them to continue to touch each other, even instructing the nurses to not check on Kazuha too often. So, for the hours that follow, Kuni holds Kazuha against him, silent, body tense. 

“Can you breathe okay?” Kazuha asks. His cheek is resting on Kuni’s left pectoral, and he almost whines in need when he slides his face against it to look up, Kuni’s nipple growing hard beneath him. He hides his flushed face into Kuni’s neck.

Kuni makes a low sound, resembling a cough. “You’re asking me now? We’ve been at this for four hours.”

Kazuha hums, nose digging into Kuni’s neck muscles. His mind is lost in a red mist, and he’s almost tempted to lick. Lazily, he wonders if Kuni would tense up or melt away in his mouth. Kuni wiggles under him, grunting. Fuck, he thinks, what am I doing?

He starts to pull himself away, but Kuni tugs him back into himself by his wrist. Kazuha lands back on his chest with a gasp.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kuni asks. “We’re not allowed to separate, you know.”

Kazuha closes his eyes, fisting his hand. Don’t you see what this is doing to me? he wants to yell. 

Kazuha clears his throat, face burning. “I—I have to pee.”

“Hmm,” Kuni says. “I kind of have to pee too.”

“So,” says Kazuha. “How are we doing this?”

They agree, in the interest of privacy and decency, to let go for the five minutes it takes them both to finish their business. Kuni is drying his hands with a paper towel when he comes out of the bathroom. And Kazuha—realises he’s never really seen him shirtless. Kuni has a slender build, flat belly and soft arms. A long jagged scar runs across between his pecs, ending just above his navel. Twisted, bumpy flesh over his marble skin. Oh, Kazuha thinks. Oh.

“How’d you get that?” he asks, pointing at Kuni’s chest. 

Kuni seems to ignore his question, and takes Kazuha by his hand. “Scoot forward.”

Kazuha obeys, and Kuni comes to sit behind him. He stretches both his legs on either side of Kazuha, then pulls him in by his belly. Kazuha falls against Kuni’s chest, his shoulder acting as a headrest for Kazuha. He sighs in contentment. 

“Thought we’d try a new position,” Kuni says. “It was getting hard to breathe.” His arms are still around Kazuha’s belly, so now Kazuha finds it hard to breathe.

“Sorry,” Kazuha mumbles.

“Wish we could spoon, but the bed’s not big enough,” Kuni says. 

Kazuha is still burning with curiosity, trying to feel the ridges of the long scar against his back. “How’d you get it? That scar.”

Kuni’s arms tighten around him. “You’ll hate me.”

“I won’t,” Kazuha says, caressing Kuni’s wrist. “Promise.”

“I—did it to myself.”

The world shakes on its hinges. The walls close in. And despite his remedy being wrapped all around him, Kazuha feels paralysed. Someone stapled his throat close, he can’t get a single breath in. Kuni’s grip tightens. Kazuha gulps, wrapping his fingers around Kuni’s wrist, his pulse fluttering beneath Kazuha’s touch. “It’s okay. I—” He closes his eyes, trying to clear his mind. “Why?”

Kuni takes in a shaky breath. “I—didn’t think I was alive. So, I wanted to check,” he says, choking out a wet laugh. “I was young. Around fifteen, I think.” He sighs, straightening himself. “After my aunt died, my mom was going through some stuff and I—took the brunt of it. And I’m glad for it, since Mei was safe. I guess it got to me, though. It was a rough year.”

“So, you—”

“It wasn’t like that. I was just—trying to feel something,” Kuni says. “The razor barely got past the skin by the way. I didn’t even hit muscle.”

Kazuha slaps his arm. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying it wasn’t that serious.”

“It was serious,” Kazuha says. He wiggles in Kuni’s arms until he’s fully turned around. He sits himself up on his knees and takes Kuni’s face between his hands, searching his gaze. “What you went through was terrible. Don’t ever try to downplay it. And your mom—if I knew Ei treated you like that, I never would have let that woman in our hom—apartment.”

“No, it—” Kuni shakes his head. “It’s not like that. I forgave my mom a long time ago, and I love her. She would not be in my life if I didn’t want her to be.”

Kazuha pouts at him. Kuni huffs a small laugh. Kazuha, overwhelmed with the urge to pinch his cheeks, flattens his palms against them, squashing any such thoughts. Instead he sighs and says, “How could you laugh at a moment like this?”

“It’s just—you look like a pufferfish.”

Kazuha tries not to pout even harder. “You’re insufferable.”

“Turn around now,” Kuni says. He twirls Kazuha’s body around like he’s a flower stem between his fingers. “We might be able to get some sleep this way,” he says, settling Kazuha between his legs, into his arms, against his bare, cool chest. 

And Kazuha—shudders. He tries to think of unattractive things. Kitchen waste, deep sea creatures, hair stuck in a shower drain, Wall Street. Eventually, the tension in his belly smoothes out. By then, Kuni is already snoring behind him. Kazuha tries not to wonder what it would be like. If Kuni wanted him back.

Despite it all, he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

Morning announces itself in the form of Childe barging in through their door. “Oooooh.”

Kazuha startles awake. Kuni is already rubbing his eyes. Kazuha is glad for the thin bedsheet Kuni seemed to have pulled over them during the night. He tries not to curl inwards.  

“The fuck are you doing, Childe?”

“Well, right now I’m wondering if I should’ve knocked. Sorry,” Childe says, not looking sorry at all.

“Get the fuck out,” Kuni says. 

“Fine, fine. Heizou’s bringing you breakfast, though.”

On cue, Heizou appears. “Oh.” He looks at Kazuha. “You okay?’

Kazuha realises he hasn’t talked to Heizou since yesterday morning, since he had passed out in the middle of the night on a random sidewalk. He smiles. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.” Heizou inclines his head left, glancing subtly at Kuni. Kazuha nods, trying his best to convey that it’s okay. 

“Good then,” Heizou says. He walks forward to set down the breakfast tray on their bedside table. “I’ll see you later.” Then he leaves, pulling Childe out behind him.

Kazuha throws his head back against Kuni’s shoulder. “So. Breakfast?”

Kuni squirms. “I have to pee first.”

Kazuha laughs.

After breakfast, Ei comes to check on them. Or rather, she gets dragged in by a pink-haired lady. 

“Miko!” Ei is yelling. “What if they aren’t decent?”

Already too late. Kazuha blinks at the women. Ei is trying her best not to look at them. 

Kuni sighs. “It’s fine, mom.”

It’s not really fine. They’re both shirtless, though now sitting on opposite sides of the bed. They had decided to test for a lag period again. Fifteen minutes later, Kazuha has felt no signs of it coming back.

The new woman, Miko, smirks. “Well, you two have been getting comfy.”

“Shut up, Miko,” Kuni says, lips pulled into a frown. “It’s not like that.”

Kazuha tries not to let it sting too much.

Ei holds out her arms towards her son. “May I?”

Kuni rolls his eyes. He slips off the bed and a couple steps later he’s falling straight into his mother’s waiting arms. Kazuha registers that he only reaches Ei’s shoulder, just the perfect height for Ei to smother him in the hug. She doesn’t let go for a long time, but Kuni doesn’t seem to mind. He almost melts into her, face hidden in her shoulder. 

Miko tries to join them, attaching herself to Kuni’s back and wrapping her arms around them both. Kuni reacts by digging his elbow into her stomach. Miko retaliates, kissing Kuni’s cheek. 

“Miko!” Kuni screeches.

“Be nice, Kuni,” Ei says. 

“My son,” Miko says, mockingly affectionate.

And Kazuha—suddenly feels cold. His mother had died while giving birth to him. His father raised him with discipline and distance. The only moments Kazuha felt a hint of warmth in the lone Kaedehara estate were the ones he spent with his grandfather. And now that even they are gone, Kazuha truly only has one person left in the world. 

He wonders if Kuni realised this long ago. Perhaps he doesn’t want to be in a relationship with someone so pathetic, so dependent. Perhaps this whole ordeal will solidify it for him, make him realise Kazuha’s not even worth his friendship. 

“Hey.”

He blinks. His vision is all blurry with tears. Fuck.

Kuni’s right in front of him, squinting at him. “Is it back?”

“No, no.” Kazuha wipes his eyes. “I just—I feel cold.”

Ei steps closer to them. “Kuni told me you’re not allowed to touch right now. Since he can’t hug you, maybe . . .” She holds out her arms to Kazuha, just as she’d done for Kuni. “. . . this will make you feel warmer?”

Kazuha half-sobs, half-gasps, and rushes into her arms. And god, he realises now why Kuni practically went limp against her. “You give really good hugs,” he mumbles.

Miko snickers behind her hand.

Kazuha turns his head to look at Kuni and he’s—smiling ear to ear, with the fondest look in his eyes. 

Oh?

When he finally lets go, Ei squints at his face. She pulls up the long, hanging sleeve of her kimono and wipes Kazuha’s eyes dry with it. Kazuha stands there mortified. Ei just smiles at him gently. 

Kuni laughs behind him. “I think you broke him, mom.”

Ei blinks owlishly. “I was just trying to help.”

“No, no,” Kazuha scrambles. “You did help. Thank you, Madam Raiden.”

Miko tilts her head. “Madam Raiden?”

Kazuha turns red. “I—”

Thankfully, Kuni comes to his rescue. “Alright, alright, stop teasing him,” he says. “How’s Mei, by the way? She didn’t come with you?”

“She had a fever,” Ei replies. Kuni furrows his brows. Ei continues, “Don’t worry, it’s not that serious.”

Kazuha looks at Ei, then at Kuni. “You should go see her.”

“And what about you?” Kuni asks. 

“I—”

The door’s squeaking interrupts him. Doctor Hayashi walks in, eyes fixed on her tablet. When she finally looks up, she freezes. She stares at Ei, then at Kuni, then back at Ei. Then she seems to have an epiphany. “You’re Raiden Ei’s son?” she asks Kuni.

Kuni scoffs. “What was your first clue?”

“That she’s here,” replies Hayashi. “And that, well,  you look very similar.”

Kuni gives Kazuha a side glance, as if saying can you believe her? Kazuha tries to hide his giggles. 

Ei blinks at the doctor. “You know me?”

“Are you serious?” asks Hayashi.

Miko sighs. “Oh, Ei.”

“Mom, you own like half the country.”

Ei frowns. “That’s no explanation.”

Hayashi shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here with Kazuha’s test results.” The room’s energy shifts. Kuni sits straighter. Kazuha curls inwards. “He’s perfectly healthy. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with him physically.”

“What?” Kazuha asks. 

Kuni snatches the tablet out of Hayashi’s hands, his eyes darting from line to line. “It’s true.”

Kazuha’s heart drops. He shakes his head, trying to dispel the fog in his head. This makes no sense. And then a horrible thought strikes him. What if they think he’s making it up? What if Kuni thinks it’s his twisted way of trying to get close to him? What if what relationship they do have crumbles down? What if—

“I’m not making it up!” he yells. Tears spring to his eyes. He falls onto the bed, staring at the ground in shame. “I swear to god. I swear.”

Slender fingers lift his head up. Perfect violet eyes stare at him. “I believe you, Zuha. Don’t think for a moment I don’t.”

Kazuha throws himself into Kuni’s arms, crying into his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Ei comes up behind them, resting her hand on Kazuha’s head. “Don’t worry, Kazuha. We know you aren’t lying.”

Miko nods her head in agreement. 

Hayashi clears her throat. “I think it’s psychological. I can book an appointment with a psychiatrist for you. But beyond that, there’s really nothing the hospital can do for you,” she says. “So, you’re free to go home.”

“I’m not imagining it,” he whispers to Kuni. The pain, the fire, it’s all too real. But Kuni doesn’t reply, doesn’t tell him he believes him. His silence digs into Kazuha’s skin, razor-edged. Kazuha pries himself out of his arms. “You don’t believe me.”

“Kazuha—”

“No, you—you . . .”

A wave of dizziness crashes into him. Kazuha’s jelly legs give in beneath him. Kuni catches him mid-fall. He tries to hold Kazuha’s face up, but Kazuha’s slipping, down, down. The fire is blue hot already, melting his skin into his bones. Whatever breaths he takes in scrape down his throat like glass. 

He slips from Kuni’s grasp, knees crashing onto the ground. The world is turning blurry and red. All the voices mix together in a jumbled mess. Cool arms under his knees, under his shoulders, lifting him away from the ground. They lay him on the bed. But whatever momentary relief the touch gave him is eaten away by the fire. It hurts. Please, it hurts so much.

He can barely feel the tears leaking out of his eyes, but a thumb wipes them away. Something drips onto his face, salty against his lips. Someone’s crying. 

He can almost make out the voice among the chaos, yelling in a panic. “What the fuck is going on?” Cool skin presses against his chest, but this too fades away in the fire. “Why isn’t it helping?!”

“Kuni, you’ve gotta let go.”

Kazuha’s body jostles, the grip on his waist grows tighter. “No!”

“They can’t help him like this!”

“Please. I can’t—”  Kuni struggles around him, wrapping himself tighter around Kazuha. “No, let go. Let go!”

Then the cool touch is gone altogether. Kazuha gasps, trying to see through his leaking tears. Kuni’s kicking his feet, and even with four people trying to drag him out of the room, he almost escapes their hold. Almost makes it back to Kazuha. 

And Kazuha—he is sure he’s dying. The pain has dulled his senses, muddled his thoughts. But he must make sure to let Kuni know. If this is the last time they will ever see each other, he must make sure Kuni knows what he truly does to Kazuha’s heart. So, as his vision darkens, he smiles one last time, mouthing I love you.

Kuni’s face falls. And he struggles even harder. Kazuha’s vision fails entirely, and the last thing he hears is a heartbreaking scream. 

“KAZUHA!”

Kazuha drifts in and out. He can’t open his eyes but he catches blurry snippets of conversations. 

“I’ll be blunt. We have no idea what’s wrong with him.”

“What the fuck do you mean you don’t know! You’re a fucking doctor. Do your job!”

“Every test so far has come back negative. And his fever is not going down, no matter how many antipyretics we give him. If this goes on—”

“Shut up!”

Footsteps, then a door slamming shut. 

Kazuha slips. 

When he comes to again, he has enough strength to open his eyes. The room is dark, illuminated only by the faint moonlight. Both of his arms have needles digging in them. 

He breathes slowly. The fire is almost gentle now, or perhaps it has nothing left to burn.

He’s sitting up and someone’s rocking him back and forth. He can feel cool lips against his neck. 

“Please.” An uneven breath, a sob. “Please don’t take him.”

Kuni?

The walls of his throat are stuck together. He wants to say Kuni’s name, but makes a hoarse, nonsensical sound instead. 

“Shh, I’m here. I’m here.”

Kazuha slips and falls. Down, down.

Muffled voices ring in Kazuha’s ears. 

“I’m sorry but there’s nothing else we can do.”

Someone’s holding him. Warm liquid drips onto his chest. 

“His organs are failing. We’ve given him Lorazepam, but he still might have seizures. Page me immediately if he starts showing signs of one.

“I’m sorry.” 

The door clicks shut.

“No . . .”

“Kuni—”

“You’ve gotta help him, Mom. Please. I can’t lose him. I can’t.”

“Baby—”

“You don’t know. You don’t understand.”

A sigh. “But I do. I do.”

And then, darkness. Kazuha drowns in it.

Fingers brush over his lips. An uncertain but lingering touch. 

“I’ve been a coward, haven’t I? Been so cruel to you.” 

Lips press against his cheek. Kazuha’s heart ignites. The fire dampens.

“I can’t afford to be scared now.”

Kisses trail along his jaw.

“I’m ready to say it, Kazuha. Can you hear me?”

Cool, tender lips find his, move against them in imitation of a kiss. Kazuha wishes he could move, if only to open his mouth in invitation. 

“I love you.”

Kazuha falls. But this time, he’s sure there’ll be someone to catch him. 

So he lets go, unafraid.

Kazuha is smiling, and it’s the most beautiful thing Kuni has ever seen. 

Kazuha encapsulates him. Kuni had been pulled into his orbit long ago, gotten used to his undying warmth, accepted quietly, just to himself, that his heart was not his own anymore. 

Kazuha’s a closed book, and Kuni struggled for a long time to read past the cover. His beauty is hidden among the pages. But whenever Kuni glimpsed it, he saw heaven itself. A smile, beautiful and shining like sun-warmed snow. A laugh, loud and rare like flamingos taking flight. A lopsided grin, a playful wink, an angry furrow of his brows. 

Kazuha consumes his thoughts. He holds Kuni’s heart in his palm, has held it for a long time now.

“I love you,” he says, entirely unprompted. Kazuha freezes in the middle of his conversation with Heizou. The IV tubes attached to him shift as he turns to Kuni. 

“I love you, too, Kuni. You okay?”

Kuni smiles. “Better than ever. Just making up for lost time.”

Kazuha blushes. The room glows a little brighter.

The door opens. Ei walks in, with Mei in her arms. She’s seven now, definitely too big for upsies. But Ei has always indulged her. When she sees her brother, she wiggles in her mom’s arm, asking to be let down.

She runs straight into Kuni’s arms. “Nii-san! I missed you!”

Kuni picks her up, rubs his nose against his sister’s. “I missed you too. Is your fever gone?”

“Mhmm! Mama kissed it all better.”

Ei smiles. “Sure did.”

Then Mei seems to notice there are other people in the room. She stares at Kazuha. “Your hair’s weird.”

Kazuha blinks. “I—”

Heizou explodes into laughter.

“Nii-san, did he colour it? I wanna colour my hair too!”

“I don’t colour it. I was born this way,” says Kazuha, pouting now. He rubs the red streak in his hair between his fingers. 

Kuni laughs. “It’s true,” he tells Mei.

Mei frowns, then says, “Who are you?”

Kuni hugs his sister tighter, then looks at Kazuha. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Kazuha turns red again and looks away.

Mei perks up. “Did you kiss?”

Kazuha opens his mouth, then closes it. 

Kuni chuckles. “We sure did.”

Mei squeals in delight.