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For Furihata Kouki, being married to Akashi was like a dream come true. Despite his earlier reservations – and fear for his physical well-being – the redhead was actually quite kind and, after taking his time in wooing Furihata, a gentle and passionate lover.
Being one with Akashi was like nothing else in the world. Their shared breath, body heat, the way they moved in tandem, climbing higher and higher until they reached the precipice and came crashing down together, sated and content.
Yes, Akashi performed his husbandly duties just as well as he did anything. Perfectly.
Furihata couldn’t have asked for a better life. There was no one in this world that could have made him happier. He wished that their blissful time together could last forever.
But then the accident happened.
With the many times they’d ridden in the Akashi Group’s private helicopter, plane and yacht, Furihata never would’ve guessed that he would die riding a bicycle.
He and Akashi were out for an afternoon ride, enjoying the breeze and the cooler weather of fall, when suddenly, his entire world turned upside down. Well, sideways.
Furihata’s head hit the pavement with a sickening crack - his helmet having been thrown off at the moment of impact. Everything hurt and the way he was laying didn't look physically possible. He couldn’t see his other arm, but he was pretty sure legs didn’t go that way.
His ears were ringing, but he could still hear his name being called. He opened one of his eyes – the other unresponsive – and spotted a familiar head of red hair bobbing through a crowd. When had all of those people gotten there?
“Kouki!” Akashi shouted as he burst through the throng and fell to his knees at his side. “Kouki…” he said again, voice softer and crimson eyes taking in his injuries. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
Furihata opened his mouth, but no words came out, only a gurgle followed by a metallic taste in the back of his throat.
“Damn it,” Akashi cursed, so unlike him, and then reached forward and took his hand. Furihata watched him grip it, but he couldn’t feel anything.
“Step aside!” someone called and the crowd parted, making way for two men and a stretcher. It was then that Furihata saw the back of a giant truck. It had driven up onto the sidewalk and, if he traced the skid marks behind the tires, he was sure they would lead directly to where he lay, sprawled on the ground.
So that was what had hit him.
“Kouki, you’re going to be okay.” Akashi’s voice drifted into his ear.
He very much doubted that.
He looked down at their joined hands and the cute little mole Akashi had on his thumb. He longed to pull his husband’s hand to his lips and kiss that beauty mark one last time. But he lacked the strength.
Darkness crept in around his vision and he glanced up so he could see his husband's face again.
‘I love you,’ he thought extra loud, hoping the other could hear him.
“Kouki?” Akashi looked panicked. He never looked anything but cool, calm and collected. Furihata hated that he’d made him look that way. “Kouki! Stay with me!”
‘I can’t…’
“Kouki, don’t leave me!” he shouted, eyes filling with tears. “Kouki, don’t you dare leave me!”
‘I love you, Sei…’
When Furihata awoke, he was in his and Akashi’s bed, which was surprising. He figured he’d come to in a hospital room or, more likely, the afterlife. Then again, heaven for him would look like their bedroom.
He sat up slowly, his entire body aching. He didn’t think there was pain in heaven. He also expected the angels to have clothed him in more than a ratty old pair of pajama pants.
‘Ah, Kouki. You’re awake.’
Furihata blinked. That sounded just like Akashi.
‘Don’t be alarmed. I…I’ve been waiting for this day. It’s been lonely without you.’
He looked around the room, but couldn’t find the source of the voice.
‘I didn’t think it would work, but…I’m so glad it did.’
What would work?
Furihata threw the covers off and tried to get up, but he fell back onto the mattress.
‘It’s alright. It will take time.’
He brought a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.
“Am I…alive?” he asked, hoping, wherever he was, Akashi would answer.
‘Yes, my dear Kouki. You are.’
“And…where are you?”
‘I’m right here, Kouki.’
“Where?”
‘Inside you.’
Furihata froze. He removed his hand from his forehead and opened his eyes.
“What?”
‘You were so badly injured, Kouki, we…we knew you couldn’t make it on your own.’
“What?” Furihata’s pulse quickened.
‘You needed several new organs and, despite my connections, they wouldn’t have made it to you on time.’
His mind was reeling. He understood that he’d been knocking on death’s door, but what was Akashi saying?
‘And your left arm was completely destroyed from how the truck dragged you-’
Furihata looked down at his arm. It was still there. But it was different. The skin was lighter.
‘So, in order to save you I…’ Akashi trailed off just as Furihata turned his left hand over and saw it. The mole on his thumb. Akashi’s mole. ‘Kouki…’
“No…” Furihata stood up and ran toward the bathroom, stumbling on unsteady legs. He tripped over the rug and caught himself on the counter. “No…Sei…you…” He stared down into the sink. “Sei, where are you?”
‘I told you,’ his husband replied, voice still close. Impossibly close. ‘I’m right here.’
Furihata looked up at his reflection. His upper body was covered in scars, some dipping below the waistband of his pajama pants. His chest was a patchwork quilt of pale and slightly darker skin. And his eyes. One was its usual brown and the other was crimson.
‘I’m right here,’ Akashi repeated, inside his head. ‘And I always will be. Until death do us part.’