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“So let me get this straight.”
“Mm.”
“You all went to Dekapan for your flu shots -- dumb move, by the way -- and there was some kind of mishap.”
“Mm.”
“So instead of getting a shot full of vaccination, you got…”
“An experimental hormone treatment.”
“Right. And that’s why you look like shit.”
“Hey!”
“Because you need to have sex. Doctor’s orders.”
“N-no! I told you, it’s--”
“Yeah, yeah, idjit. ‘Physical intimacy’. That still sounds like fucking to me.”
Karamatsu folded his arms over his chest and tried to ignore the way the movement made his joints ache. “Normal touching works,” he said, sounding a little peeved. “Just like. Holding hands and cuddling and stuff.”
“But fucking works better, right?” Chibita said, wiggling his eyebrows at Karamatsu even as he cleaned out an old beer glass.
“I -- maybe! But it’s not necessary! Anything that stimulates, ah, pleasure hormones…” He cleared his throat. “That works.”
“Mmhmm,” Chibita said, and he didn’t look particularly convinced. “Pleasure hormones. Still sounding an awful lot like sex here, Karaboy. Not gonna lie.”
Karamatsu’s face burned even darker than it was, and he pushed his glasses up on his nose with fingers that shook. It sounded like sex to him, too, honestly. It had sounded like sex to his whole family, which is why they’d been teasing him about being a shitty, painful incubus for a solid week.
Chibita just pursed his lips, though, and gave Karamatsu a canny sort of look that he didn’t particularly like. “So who’re you ‘stimulating pleasure hormones’ with, anyway?” he asked.
There was something in his voice there, something a bit tense. If Karamatsu were a little crazier, he might even have called it unhappy. He cleared his throat and tried to ignore the part of his mind that was craziest. “My beloved brothers have been showering me with affection daily,” he said, and that was true. Sort of.
The day after they’d gotten back from the lab, Choromatsu had put a chore wheel up on the wall -- but instead of things like cleaning out the drains or scrubbing the bathroom, it had things like “touch Karamatsu” or “pat Karamatsu on the head” or, most insultingly of all, “give Karamatsu a hug”. Frankly, they probably would have preferred cleaning toilets.
“Really?” Chibita asked, and he was looking pleased now. Good. Karamatsu didn’t like it when his brow creased up like that. “And they’re actually keeping up with it?”
“I… Sometimes?” They had admittedly started to lose interest after the first few days.
Chibita’s mouth turned down into a pretty little frown, and he crossed his arms in front of him, mirroring Karamatsu’s defensive pose. “Maybe I didn’t hear you right,” he said slowly. “The doc said this could kill you, right?”
Karamatsu looked down. “It probably won’t,” he said. It would just hurt. Like it did right now. Like it had for the past several days. Like it probably would for the rest of his life.
Chibita just stared at him, possibly shocked, for once, into silence. And then he was hopping off his box and crossing around the side of the cart. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered darkly. “Can’t depend on any of you idjits for anything.”
Karamatsu frowned at him. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Shut up and scoot over,” Chibita said, a little bossily in that way he had when he didn’t want to seem weak.
Karamatsu obeyed wordlessly, even when Chibita dropped to sit next to him, leg pressed to leg, hip to hip. It felt nice, he had to admit. Warm.
Chibita tilted his head, still looking cross as all hell. “So what do I have to do, idjit?” he asked.
“Eh?” Karamatsu asked, not entirely politely.
“To make you feel better,” Chibita said. “You’ve been fidgeting all night, dumbass. It hurts, doesn’t it?”
“A-a little,” Karamatsu admitted. “But you don’t have to--”
But Chibita ignored him, just as he always did, and turned so he could wrap his arms around Karamatsu in an awkward sort of sideways hug. He squeezed a little too hard, a little too long, but. Well. Karamatsu sort of suspected that Chibita wasn’t all that practiced when it came to hugging. “Like this?” he asked, his face buried in Karamatsu’s side.
“Um,” Karamatsu said, his mouth going dry. “Yeah. Just like that.”
He carefully let his arms settle around Chibita’s waist, and he hugged him back.
* * *
The next time it happened, Karamatsu had tried to seem casual, walking up to Chibita’s cart like his hands didn’t hurt and he hadn’t found a distressing amount of hair in his comb that morning. He hadn’t resisted at all when Chibita had rolled his eyes at him and hugged him as he handed him his oden.
The fifth time it happened, Chibita gave him this look, one that Karamatsu hated. It was quietly unhappy, pitying and worried both. “You look like death,” he’d said, and his voice had wobbled precariously as he’d said it. “Don’t you do this again. Don’t wait so long. You know you can always come to me, idjit.”
And after that, well, Karamatsu did. There really wasn’t anyone else, was there? His family couldn’t be depended on to do such an onerous chore, and it wasn’t as if -- it wasn’t as if he had a lover. Dekapan had not-so-surreptitiously slipped him a box of condoms during his last checkup, a silent plea to fucking use them before his symptoms got any worse. But they both knew they’d just gather dust in his closet. Karamatsu hadn't exactly had potential beaus lining up around the block even before his skin had started to go gray. It felt pretty hopeless now.
He could touch himself, of course, and did with even more regularity than he had even before he’d gotten sick. And he could, if he got really desperate, maybe pay for companionship. But the very idea made his skin crawl. It just -- it felt like giving up. Like accepting that no one would ever love him without being paid to do so.
It was melodramatic, he knew, but he was halfway sure that he’d rather die than give up that. Anything but that.
Chibita, though, was the balm keeping him from needing to find out for sure. Easy hugs at the cart. Chibita hauling him around town by the hand, casually tangling their fingers together as he did his grocery shopping like that didn’t make them look like… well. He’d even invited him back to his place a few times, just to watch movies and knock their feet together beneath the blankets.
It was nice of him. It was really nice of him. Karamatsu knew that. But Chibita had always been like that, hadn’t he? He’d always had such a weakness for strays and lost souls. He was always feeding cats and helping lost children and, and watering tiny, dying flowers. Karamatsu knew where he stood in that hierarchy. Most likely above the cats, but still well below the children. And the flowers.
And, well, they were pleasure hormones, right? Dekapan had even told him that they were the chemicals that made humans fall in love with each other. So his silly, stupid feelings, well, they weren’t much of a surprise. The chemicals were doing what they were supposed to be doing. Chibita was keeping him alive. The crush was just… maybe it was wisest to just think of it as some kind of medicinal side effect.
He shot a sideways glance at Chibita, who was transfixed by some dumb late-night comedy show he’d recorded. Karamatsu’s stomach tightened as he watched Chibita laugh, and yeah. It was much, much wiser to know these feelings for what they were.
Karamatsu sighed and sat forward a little, absently massaging his hands as he did. They hurt when it got cold now, and he felt far older than he should have.
He didn’t notice Chibita’s eyes on him until Chibita sighed, too. “They’re hurting you again tonight, aren’t they?” he asked.
“Nothing but the aches and pains of a lovelorn life well-lived,” he said, giving Chibita a tight smile. “Don’t worry about it.”
Chibita just frowned at him, then reached out to pause the program. “Don’t bullshit me, Karamatsu,” he said, and he sounded uncharacteristically serious. “Do they hurt?”
Karamatsu’s lips twisted and he shrugged, and goddamn it, that hurt, too. “A little.”
“Idjit,” Chibita said, and the harsh word sounded oddly tender in his mouth. “Give me your hands -- no, don’t bitch at me, just give them here.”
Chibita wasn’t worth arguing with when he got like this. Hell, he was rarely worth arguing with, period. Karamatsu pulled his hands from his lap and held them out, just enough that Chibita could grab them roughly with his own.
“Jeez,” Chibita murmured as he started to rub down each of his fingers, the knuckles, the back of each hand. It felt so good, and not just because of the chemical reaction. “I keep telling you, idjit. I’ll help you out if you need me.”
That was just it, though, Karamatsu thought as he watched Chibita’s callused hands massage his own. He didn’t want to need Chibita. He murmured something noncommittal, hoping it’d get Chibita off his back.
“I just…” Chibita’s voice was doing that thing again. That too-quiet, too-soft thing. “I hate seeing you like this.”
And, well, Karamatsu didn’t like it much, either. He didn’t like needing to lotion his skin constantly just to attain the level of elasticity he’d needed only a few months ago. He didn’t like it when his lips bled when he stayed out too long in the wind. He didn’t like the way his heart would lurch sometimes in his chest, like it was in a three-legged race it hadn’t quite prepared enough for. He hated that. He hated always needing to depend on someone else. He hated depending on people who weren’t there, and someone who would never be there the way he wanted.
Chibita just sighed again, apparently unbothered by his silence. “It’s not just the hands, is it?” he asked.
Karamatsu slowly shook his head. Of course it wasn’t. It never was anymore. His whole body always ached like he’d climbed Mt. Everest, and all it was was one giant reminder that treatment was out of his reach. That physical intimacy, the simplest thing in the world, was still too hard for him to master. Some days it felt like his entire body was rejecting itself, just like the rest of the world had.
“Karamatsu. Look at me.”
Karamatsu looked up, as unable to disobey that voice as he always was. And the way Chibita was looking at him was so strange, so alien. His eyes were oddly dark, and the romantic part of himself said they sparkled in the light from the tv. The romantic part of himself was always getting him in trouble. The romantic part of him was telling him that Chibita looked -- that Chibita looked interested. That Chibita looked like he was looking into his eyes and seeing everything that made him him. And wasn’t looking away.
“Chibita--”
“Shh,” Chibita said, and then he kissed him.
It was shock that made Karamatsu’s lips part, but Chibita took it as invitation instead. He shifted closer, still holding one of Karamatsu’s hands in his, and let one kiss segue into two, three. What was the point in counting when the edges ran into each other like the wind? What was the point in thinking when this felt so good?
Chibita felt soft against him, felt dear and familiar, and Karamatsu wasn’t sure if it was Dekapan’s serum or if it was just Chibita that was making his head swim. Actually, the most likely culprit of all was probably his heart, running a thousand miles a minute, too fast for his chest, so fast he was dizzy with it.
Too soon, too soon by far, Chibita was pulling away. Was blinking, dazed, was licking his lips without a care for how that made Karamatsu’s blood rush hot in his veins.
Then. Then.
“Did that help?” Chibita asked, breathless.
Did that help what? How could a kiss help-- And then Karamatsu’s heart froze in his chest. Of course. Of course. He’d been so stupid to think that, that Chibita had kissed him because he…
Karamatsu closed his eyes for a moment, tight, and tried to slow his heartbeat, his breath. Tried to bring himself back to before the brief, brief moment he’d thought that maybe Chibita had feelings for him, too.
“Karamatsu?”
And the worst part, the very worst part, was that it had helped. There had been a few moments there where nothing in the world had hurt. Even now, there was a certain lightheadedness that felt good. It was pleasure, yes, but it was healing, too. He could feel it.
So this was what he could have had if anyone had wanted him.
Karamatsu pushed the blankets from his legs and levered himself to his feet, not daring to open his eyes until he knew he was facing away from Chibita again. He’d only been trying to help. Karamatsu knew that. He knew all that. He understood everything perfectly well.
He didn’t say a word, just walked to the genkan, grabbing his coat as he went.
“Wh-- Karamatsu, hey, wait! Where the hell are you going, idjit?”
“Home,” he bit out. Where he could lick his wounds in peace. He’d have to be careful from now on; he wasn’t going to be able to use Chibita’s help from now on. And that was gonna suck.
“But we-- I thought you liked it!”
He did. Of course he did. He’d liked it too damn much. “Stop,” he said, simple, ragged.
“Fuck no! You’re gonna kill yourself one of these days!” Chibita snapped, and what the hell right did he have to sound upset?
“So what, Chibita?” he asked, spinning on his heel and knowing that pain was making his words ugly. “What were you going to do about that? Fuck me?”
Chibita flinched. “I…” he trailed off for a second, as if not quite sure how to respond. “Maybe? If you -- if you wanted that…”
Karamatsu stared at him. And then he dropped his coat on the floor so he could open his fists, clench them again. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked.
Chibita reared back like he’d be slapped. “Wrong with me? What’s wrong with you, asshole?” he asked, and Karamatsu could see his back stiffening up like he was preparing for battle.
“What’s wrong,” Karamatsu said, standing his ground for once in his goddamn life, “is you kissing me. What’s wrong is you making me -- making me think that maybe you actually wanted to kiss me! And you won’t even let me go home to be humiliated in peace!”
Humiliated. Ha. That was a funny way to say “heartbroken”.
Chibita paused, and now he just looked confused. “But I did want to kiss you,” he said.
“To ‘help’! To make me feel better!” Karamatsu said, and to his horror, he could feel tears starting to build in the corners of his eyes. “Like I want a pity fuck!”
Chibita’s eyes widened and Karamatsu could see it, the moment when things clicked. “You think I…” He stalked forward, abrupt as anything, and for a split second, Karamatsu shrank back.
But Chibita didn’t hit him. Instead, he reached forward, reached up, and tugged Karamatsu down so he could press one bruising, angry kiss to his lips. Before Karamatsu could push him away, though, he’d moved in, was winding his arms around Karamatsu’s waist with arms like iron. “You fucking idiot,” he hissed, and Karamatsu couldn’t quite place the darkness in his tone. He couldn’t tell if it was anger or if it was fear, or maybe even some combination of the two. “That wasn’t pity.”
Karamatsu just stared straight ahead. If he didn’t look down, he didn’t have to look at Chibita at all. “Don’t lie to me,” he said softly. That was the only thing that could make this whole shitshow worse.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” Chibita said, face buried in Karamatsu’s shirt, “to love someone and watch them hurt like you do.”
Karamatsu’s heart stopped.
“Like, seriously? You need pleasure to survive? What kind of gross ero manga plotline is that? It’s so stupid. I can’t believe something this stupid gets to hurt you so badly. And I’m right fucking here. I keep telling you and telling you, I’m right here if you need me. I’d do whatever you want me to. Kiss you, fuck you, whatever you fucking want. I -- I really like you, you dumbass, and you won’t even let me help you.”
And it didn’t make sense, none of Chibita’s shaky words made any sense at all. Until they did. “Hormones. The hormones. Dekapan said that the chemicals, the…” The…serotonin or oxytocin or some other fucking -in, whatever it was. “He said they were the love hormones. The ones that make you like people.”
They were what had done him in, after all. He believed that. He really needed to believe that.
He could feel Chibita shaking his head against his chest. “God, you really are such a fucking idiot. I liked you before any of this, stupid. You seriously think I’d do all this for just anyone?” he asked, and Karamatsu’s heart finally felt like it was coming to life in his chest again.
He remembered that look in Chibita’s eyes just before he’d kissed him, that odd, odd light that had shone in them for just a moment. Chibita, their Chibita, his Chibita, he’d always had a weakness for strays. Cats and children and flowers. But he’d never looked at any of them the way he’d looked at Karamatsu.
Slowly, with trembling hands, Karamatsu brought his arms up to wrap around Chibita’s back, and he could feel Chibita’s breath hitch against him. His lips still hurt, still felt bruised and tender, from Chibita’s less-than-kind kiss. His heart still hurt, too.
But he was mending. He could feel it now, the buzz of something like pleasure beneath his skin. And this time, it didn’t hurt. It just felt… quiet. Like the faraway hum of a dragonfly flying through summer grass.
Maybe it was relief. Maybe it was whatever-the-fuck-"in" that Dekapan had accidentally addicted his body to. But, Karamatsu thought, as he smoothed a hand over Chibita’s back, maybe he just really liked Chibita, too.
They stood there for several long minutes, swaying slightly in nonexistent wind. A minute, a lifetime, later, Chibita looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed and shiny. And then he stood up on his toes so he could press his lips to Karamatsu's, gentle, gentle, like he was almost afraid he’d break apart beneath his touch.
It wasn’t so much a kiss as soft breaths against each other’s lips. Something quiet to be shared. Neither one of them said anything at first, not wanting to be the first to break the silence. They just stood there, resting against each other, propping each other up, until Chibita said, quietly shy, “Let me take care of you. Please. I want to make you feel good again.”
“Okay,” Karamatsu said, pressing one more kiss to willing lips. “Okay.”
That gentle buzzing, the dutiful quiet of mending cells, had reached his heart by now. That was the only explanation for how he felt now, like he was coming down from a high that he’d never experienced before, and the simple joy of it suffused him. His heart started to beat regularly, unencumbered, for what felt like the first time in weeks.
And for one brief moment, nothing at all hurt.