Chapter Text
Gravity is a funny thing.
The gravity of a situation.
The gravity of heartbreak.
And, most notably, the gravity of a skateboard to the face at many miles an hour.
Kaoru would like to say that he didn’t see it coming, but the more accurate way to phrase this would be to say that he wished he didn’t see it coming. Unfortunately, Adam was someone he knew well. Too well. And he knew that dull lack of interest in those eyes, could feel it radiate off of Adam even from behind that clown mask of his.
And as Kaoru watched through the wind and shield of his own blowing hair that Adam had whirled around in that deadly signature move, the first thing he noticed was how he lacked that fatal passion. That sick, sadistic way he danced before he readied himself to cause his opponent physical harm or serious terror and, in Kaoru’s case, both.
Kaoru could feel the board hit his face, could hear that awful sound it made. He listened to some bones in his face dislocate themselves, noticed as his body gave way to the motion and displaced itself from Carla that moved at too-high speeds. But what he didn’t feel was the pain.
The funny thing was that the physical injury didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the words did.
“You’re just boring.”
As Kaoru fell to hit the ground, no one there to grab his hand and catch him, he felt like his teenage self once again. He felt that lip piercing cold against his skin, saw flashes of that Adam he used to know. Surely this wasn’t the same person. How could it be?
The next time Kaoru opened his eyes— he didn’t remember closing them— the pain hit him all at once.
People whispered, murmured. Fangirls wailed and onlookers gasped at the sight of crimson blood leaking from Kaoru’s face and body and whatever else had been injured, the dark red staining his attire like spilled wine. Yet, no one helped. Adam remained looming over him like a statue. Then, someone was saying something, but the words swam into one ear and out the other. Saying his head pounded wouldn’t do the pain justice; it was as if every sound made his skull tighten and pulsate, and every twitch of movement made his body light itself a little more on fire.
There were hands on him, and Kaoru doesn’t even possess the energy to flinch as his fuzzy, murky vision showed a familiar figure crouched before him. Kaoru didn’t even have to see the forest-green hair to know: Kojiro.
Kojiro’s hands are tentative as one slides under the small of his back and the other under his knees. Tendrils of unpleasant burning creep their way down his limbs, starting where Kojiro was touching him. But then again, it was impossible for Kojiro to be careful enough.
The words that do drift into his hearing are, “you son of a bitch,” and despite the murkiness and distant ringing, he recognized the gruff tone as Kojiro’s. He vaguely can tell that Kojiro’s jaw was clenched, his head pointed in Adam’s direction. Somewhere in Kaoru’s mind, unable to form a single intelligible thought, he feels a strike of pride.
Kaoru watches as the dark spots begin to bleed over the rest of his vision. Stay awake, he begs himself, yet can’t control the way his lifeless body slumps the rest of its weight completely into Kojiro. His cheek presses itself against Kojiro’s bare chest, and he feels the warmth slowly seep into his own cold body. And he can smell him; sweat, cologne, and rain. He feels himself relax a little too much. He coughs weakly, and watches as blood spatters against Kojiro’s jacket.
“You with me, nitwit?” Kojiro murmurs, and somehow he made the insult sound like a pet name with the ill-concealed worry in his tone. Kaoru feels the man hold him close to himself before lifting him upwards. He can’t find it in himself to formulate a response. Kojiro frowns. “Hey, stay awake.”
“Trying,” he breathes, and the door to Shadow’s car is barely shut before the vehicle is barreling into the night. Despite this, despite being in the car, Kojiro didn’t move an inch to set Kaoru elsewhere. Kaoru remained sprawled in his lap, cheek to his chest and body draped over his legs.
“It’s not good to sleep with concussions,” Kojiro continues.
No shit, Kaoru thinks. “No,” is all he manages to say. Kojiro’s frown deepens, an unusual sight. The car trembles as it races over a speed bump, jostling the passengers with its turbulence. Kaoru winces.
“Hm, you must really be out of it,” Kojiro continues, “because it’s right about now you’d be saying get your hands off of me, you feckless ape!” Kojiro demonstrates his best Kaoru Voice, which was essentially a high-pitched and squeaky version of his own. Curse Kojiro and his stupid need to cheer everyone up because the pure fear and horror was clear on his face, even behind that fake, wavering grin. His eyes were wide, lacking that glimmer they always had.
“How much further, Shadow?” Kojiro asks, failing to hide the urgency in his voice.
“Two minutes!” is the barked reply.
Kojiro’s gaze settles on Kaoru’s once again, but his vision was beginning to bleed into darkness once again. “Blink once if you can hear me.”
Kaoru meets Kojiro’s eyes, his world still spinning like a kaleidoscope, and he blinks once, slowly.
Kojiro’s grin stretches into something a little more genuine as he says, softer in that familiar teasing voice, “blink twice if you love me.”
Kaoru blinks once.
Then, his eyes close again, and this time, he doesn’t possess the strength to pry them open.
“Wait, no, shit, I take it back, open your eyes,” is the rushed dialogue flooding into his ears, “Christ, please, Kaoru, please—” If the situation weren’t so bleak, this would be hilarious. But unfortunately, the situation was incredibly bleak. Kaoru loses grip on consciousness.
_____
When Kaoru wakes once again, he is under the bright lights of the hospital.
This time, his vision is no longer swimming and swirling like ripples in a pond. He feels lucid, somewhat, and his inability to keep his eyes open is more akin to common exhaustion. His eyes glaze over the too-bright lights, the itchy sheets and blankets, and most notably, Kojiro.
Kojiro occupied the chair beside the bed, head tilted back with the beginnings of drool gathering at his chin. He snored, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His bare arms had goosebumps, and he wore a too-tight t-shirt with the hospital’s logo on it.
Kaoru then looked down to find that Kojiro’s jacket— and with it, his scent— were draped over him. That bastard. That thoughtful, generous bastard.
As if by sixth sense, Kojiro’s eyes drift open and, like routine, he scans the room before settling on his companion. His eyes widen and his body shakes itself to life, and he stiffens in his chair.
Kaoru’s mouth still feels heavy and slow, so he communicates another way.
Slowly, he blinks once. Then twice.
Kojiro is so stunned that his mouth actually gapes a little, but through Kaoru’s closing eyes, he has enough time to see how the other blinks once, then twice.
_____
The next time Kaoru wakes, he gathers enough context to put together that it had been several hours since he was last conscious.
His vision, lacking his glasses, was too blurry to discern the exact time from the clock that hung on the opposing wall, but through the distant blurred line, he could tell it was somewhere around three or four in the morning.
Kaoru finds the strength to turn his head to, hopefully, not see Kojiro in that uncomfortable-seeming chair, but alas, he was still there. The sight was too dreadful to bear, too sickeningly endearing for Kaoru to deny as anything other than sweet and caring, two gestures he found hard to receive. Kojiro was evidently sleeping lightly as he wasn’t snoring loudly (don’t ask how Kaoru is aware of this detail about the other), especially with how he stirred often within the confines of the chair.
Slowly, Kaoru’s senses return to him. One of his arms was in a sling, and his legs felt numb which likely meant they were immobile. His head felt heavy, but the pain had subsided. He felt cloth along his forehead, indicating that wounds had been treated and stitched. His hair had fallen from his usual tail and hung unpleasantly in his face. Instinctually, he attempts to raise both of his hands to gather the hair and tie it away from his face, but the movement to his injured arm makes him grimace.
The tiny motion was enough for Kojiro to jolt awake, and something about how on-edge the other was made something unpleasant settle at the bottom of Kaoru’s stomach.
“Kaoru?” Kojiro’s voice was husky, unsettle as if he weren’t sure if Kaoru were fully conscious. Kaoru’s stomach sinks further. “Are you alright? Do you need anything? Does anything hurt?”
Kaoru ignores the sickening squeeze and flip his heart does. “I’m fine,” he dismisses, his voice scratchy from lack of use. He coughs weakly, and Kojiro seems to sit up in his seat at the sound. “Really, Kojiro. There’s no need to fuss.” He’s too tired to catch himself from using Kojiro. Not Joe, or Ape, or Gorilla, or Imbecile, or anything equally endearing. Kojiro. He attempts to sit up, but his body doesn’t comply. Sensing the struggle, Kojiro rises from his chair before Kaoru can stop him. He sits by Kaoru’s side on the too-small bed, the mattress dipping with the new weight. A wide hand finds itself at the small of Kaoru’s back, the other on his shoulder, guiding the other to sit up against the pillows. If he weren’t so drained, Kaoru’s face would be inexplicably red right about now.
“You’re going to make a full recovery, give it time and rest,” Kojiro starts, his warm hands leaving Kaoru’s back. His fingers part the strands from Kaoru’s face, gathering the hair into a tail at the middle of his head. Kaoru doesn’t fight as careful fingers gather the pesky bangs and stray hairs that fall in his face before taking the hairband at his wrist to tie it all into a loose bun. “And remember the bit about rest.”
“Yes, Kojiro, I heard you the first time,” Kaoru sighs.
“So that means no work.”
“Oh come on-”
“And sleeping in.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous-”
“But don’t worry, pinky,” Kojiro adds, and Kaoru feels his own eye twitch, “I’ll nurse you right back to health.”
“I don’t need your help, you dopey gorilla,” Kaoru retaliates, but his retort lacks its usual bite as he was already slumping his weight into the strong arm that was strewn around him.
Kojiro hums. “Mhm, sure you don’t, douche.” Kaoru’s body gave into its own exhaustion before he could stop himself. His head found its way to the soft muscle of Kojiro’s shoulder, the top of his head resting against Kojiro’s neck. He feels the weight of Kojiro’s head rest atop his. The moment was more soft and sincere between them than Kaoru had allowed it to be since they were kids; really, Kaoru didn’t mean to be so closed-off, yet it was just the way his coping mechanisms manifested. He hated himself for it, hated how he shoved Kojiro away with such force that it reduced them both to this constant state of banter.
But for now, the moment was sweet, and Kaoru let it be. Just because he was injured, of course. No other reason.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Kojiro murmurs. He was aware of how Kojiro’s hand draped past his shoulder to his bicep, his thumb subconsciously tracing circles over the skin there. “Look, I know you don’t wanna talk about it now, but that was… that was fucked, Kaoru. Really, really fucked. And I wanted to grab that asshole by the neck and take him straight to the cops, but I knew you’d only be more upset by that.” He feels Kojiro’s face nuzzle closer to his hair, and doesn’t even bother to hide the way he softens at the action.
“You’re right,” Kaoru mutters. “I would’ve been more upset by that.”
“Why?” Kojiro whispers. “Why? I mean, come on, man. He’s put you through hell.” You don’t have to tell me twice. “He’s- he’s a piece of shit. He deserves to rot in prison.”
“He does,” Kaoru acknowledges. “But there’s already investigations. And you know better than anyone that if we turn Adam in, the whole S goes down with him. It’s better to leave this kind of matter to the authorities.”
Kojiro sighs. “You’re no fun,” he whines.
“I happen to think with my braincells and not my fists.”
“Shut up,” Kojiro grumbles.
There’s a comfortable silence that washes over the both of them, the only sounds in the room being the distant beep of a hospital monitor and the ticking of the clock. From down the hall, hospital bed wheels screech against the floor, and conversations are muffled by the closed door. But now, in this moment, Kaoru lets his walls down a little. He lets himself indulge in that warmth that has always surrounded Kojiro, let himself breathe in that cologne and rain, lets his eyelids drift closed.
“Oh, and Kaoru?” Kaoru hums in acknowledgement. “Don’t think I forgot what you told me.” Kaoru opens his eyes a crack.
“What are you talking about?”
Though Kaoru can’t see his face, he’s certain there’s a smug grin on Kojiro’s face as he says, “that you love me.”
Even through his sleep deprivation, Kaoru’s face immediately flares to red, like a flame thrown to kindling. He sputters. “You- I- was just blinking, you ludicrous idiot!”
“Ha!” Kojiro cries, “you knew I was talking about the blinking!”
“It’s a human instinct-”
“Gotcha, bitch,” Kojiro snickers, and Kaoru mentally kicks himself for giving into his heart in that weak moment of his. His mind had been hazy, and as he saw Kojiro across his hospital room with tired eyes and exhaustion weighing his entire body into a sag, all Kaoru could think about was how despite everything, Kojiro was here. Here, in a cramped hospital room, likely ditching whatever collection of dates he had planned for the evening. Here, with Kaoru. And so, he said it. I love you. And the worst part was, he meant it.
“Well, I hope you enjoyed it, because that will never happen again,” Kaoru mutters begrudgingly. Kojiro snorts because they both know he’s lying.
“Yeah?” he muses. “I sure did enjoy it.” Kojiro brings the other closer to his side from the hand on his waist, and Kaoru is slack as he follows the motion. His eyes slip shut once again as he settles into that familiar warmth, and Kojiro casts a blanket and his jacket over the both of them.
A few moments later, just as Kaoru was on the edge of sleep, he feels Kojiro’s cheek pulling away from the top of his head. And, in a soft whisper of a voice, Kojiro says, “I love you too, Kaoru.” And as if that weren’t enough to send Kaoru straight to his grave, he feels Kojiro’s breath on his forehead before he presses a kiss there. And that was just the nail in the coffin.
Kojiro probably thought he had been asleep, but then again, the man wasn’t ever too afraid of expressing himself like this. Kaoru, for once, lets himself bask in the way he can still feel his forehead tingling, as if Kojiro’s lips were still pressed against it.
In this moment, Kojiro’s arm around him and Kojiro’s jacket draped atop him, Kaoru slipped into the best night’s sleep he’s had in years.
_____
At six o’clock sharp, two nurses made their way to room thirty-seven with a tray of two breakfasts. One for the patient, Kaoru Sakurayashiki, and one for his stubborn companion, Kojiro Nanjo.
The moment she pushes the door open, she is met with a sweet sight; the patient was dead asleep, a good sign as just earlier he experienced debilitating pain in his head and limbs. Sakurayashiki’s face was completely buried in Nanjo’s neck, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths and snores muffled by the other’s skin. Nanjo had both of his arms secured around Sakurayashiki’s body, careful not to apply pressure on the arm in a sling.
“We need to wake him,” the other nurse murmurs to her. “He can’t sleep for extended periods with that nasty concussion of his.”
She sighs. It felt akin to waking a pair of sleeping kittens. However, at the commotion, Nanjo blinks his eyes awake. Slowly, he gains his bearings, yawning widely before he cranes his neck to glance down at Sakurayashiki. There’s no missing that endeared smile that crawls across his lips at the sight of his sleeping friend? Boyfriend? Husband?
Gradually, Nanjo brings his eyes to the pair of nurses. He tries to pry one of his (muscular!) arms from the other, yet with a sleepy, frustrated groan, Sakurayashiki nuzzles closer to his shoulder. Nanjo sighs, yet his lovesickness was clear.
He raises his brow. “How can I help you, ladies?”
Ever the charmer. “We need to wake Mr. Sakurayashiki,” she explains, “with his concussion, we can’t allow him to sleep for too long.”
Nanjo looks sad at the notion. “Ah, I see.” He glances down at the other, “well, I won’t make you wake him. That is a task that would make even the bravest of warriors cower.” They both giggle. He begins to murmur, “Kaoru, hey, it’s time to wake up. Kaoru.” He pries an arm free to begin to rouse the sleeping man.
“How long have you two been married?” she asks as she sets out the two breakfast trays on the bedside table.
Nanjo’s previous suave evaporates as his cheeks fade into an embarrassed flush. “Aha,” he chuckles nervously, “do me a favor? Don’t ask that question when he’s awake.”
Later, once the two nurses were dispatched elsewhere, only then did she put together:
Those two weren’t married? Or even dating?
That was the biggest shock she had heard all day. And she worked in a hospital.