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Kaoru slaps away Kojiro’s hand, but he’s careful not to ruin the beautiful flower arrangement that is held tightly in Kojiro’s fist. Kojiro has to bite back a laugh, thinking about how Kaoru did this the first time that Kojiro tried giving him flowers, too.
“You’re an idiot,” Kaoru huffs, adjusting his glasses while careful not to disturb the bandages wrapped around his head. “I’m not interested in flowers.”
“You never were,” Kojiro tells him, still taking the bouquet and placing it in a fresh vase of water next to Kaoru’s hospital bed. “Or, so you say. But you rarely let them die.”
“It would be a waste if they died,” Kaoru stated, something that Kojiro could recite in his head alongside Kaoru’s words.
“So you’ve said before,” Kojiro chuckles. “The doctors say you can leave soon.”
“Good,” Kaoru smiles, a self-satisfied smile, as if somehow he’s won some unspoken competition. Kojiro sighs, knowing Kaoru’s going to hate the next part of his words.
“But only if I take you home.”
Kaoru frowns, and Kojiro watches the disappointment in his eyes. It’s not that Kaoru’s disappointed about being with Kojiro specifically, Kojiro knows this; rather, he’s upset about having to be constantly taken care of, treated as if he’s a fragile creature, rather than one hardened by time and memories long forgotten.
“I’m not going to act like you’re a delicate damsel,” Kojiro promises him. “But I’m also not going to forget about all our years together. You’re my husband, you know.”
“I don’t,” Kaoru reminds him, and, well, touché. “I don’t remember anything, or have you forgotten that already?”
Kojiro just smiles, tucking a strand of Kaoru’s hair behind his ear. It’s not like he hadn’t won Kaoru over once before; whose to say he can’t do it again.