Chapter Text
Ring finger, gone. Little finger, a stub of a memory. He tried to focus on the things he could still do. He could still hold a pen. He still had a thumb, so picking things up wasn't a problem. Holding hands...
He held his hand palm up, frowning at it. Sometimes, he could still feel the warmth being sucked out, could feel life leaving him in threads of searing cold. When he learned what they had to do to keep him here, the fluids they had to pump through him, the blood they had to warm, he felt small and afraid. He remembers every time he looks at what's missing. He remembers, and it's like he's there all over again, sitting in the cold, alone, slowly fading to nothing.
Two fingers, gone. Pieces of him, pieces of who he was, gone.
In one swift yet gentle movement, Todomatsu enfolded Karamatsu's maimed hand in both of his whole ones. Heat blossomed from his touch.
“You're alive, nii-san,” Todomatsu murmured. “You came back to us. That's all that matters.”
Tears prickled Karamatsu's eyes. He came back alive. Alive. The word ached in him. Sometimes he wondered if it was really for the best.
Totty rubbed his thumb in gentle circles over the back of Karamatsu's hand. Such a sweet sentiment, coming from the demon of the family. The feeling sent butterflies coursing through his veins, pooling in his stomach. He was loved, he knew it, and it hurt him.
“Did you take your medicine today?” Totty asked.
Karamatsu nodded. One pill, every day, for the rest of his life. Green and white capsule rolling around on his palm, rolling around on his tongue, washed down by a swig of water—or swallowed dry, depending on his mood. A second pill, just for awhile they told him, until he had the tools to be without it—a long, narrow tablet, white. Anti-anxiety.
Panic disorder, they called it. Panic, and intermittent explosive disorder, IED, both coupled with a handy helping of major depression. All Karamatsu heard, in all of it, was that he was disordered beyond saving. He couldn't even cry when they told him. He felt nothing. Tired. Empty. His mother squeezed his hand. His father wrapped an arm around his head and held him close. Afterwards, they told him he was perfect, no matter what. He didn't feel perfect.
You are beautiful, Karamatsu.
He had to laugh at that. He laughed again now, in the cafe, sitting across from Todomatsu. Todomatsu's brow furrowed.
“I have to go back on shift,” said Totty, looking reluctant to leave his big brother's side. “Will you be alright?”
“I'm fine, Totty,” said Karamatsu, putting on his best, his brightest cool-guy grin. “I'm absolutely fantastic.”
Todomatsu snorted at that.
“Painful,” he whispered, and gave Karamatsu's hand a final squeeze.
He shuffled back to the order counter, where he plastered on his customer service smile and took orders with a measure of finesse and grace that made Karamatsu glow with pride. That was his baby brother. So personable, so self-assured and reliable. Well. Somewhat reliable. Reliable when it suited him, really, but all the same. It was more than could be said of the rest of them.
Karamatsu looked back at his three remaining fingers, rubbed at the stubs where the other two used to be. He could still hold hands. That was nice.
“Guess who!”
Something dark and warm fell over his eyes. A pair of hands, calloused at the pads, soft around the palms. Karamatsu gripped at the wrists, grinning.
“Osomatsu,” he said, and the hands fell away. Behind him, Ichimatsu, Jyushimatsu, Choromatsu.
They all gathered around the table to take their seats. With Osomatsu, a young girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, her long dark hair pulled back in a braid set with a bright red ribbon. With Choromatsu, a short young woman with close-cropped hair, peach lipstick, and a single jade earring swinging over her right shoulder. The girl wore a dark blue school uniform, the woman a robbin's blue pleated dress cut just above her knees.
Karamatsu's immediate instinct was to stand, take each of their hands, plant a kiss to the back of their palms. The girl flushed bright pink and stammered incoherently, while the woman laughed out loud.
“You,” said the woman, “must be Karamatsu. I'm glad to see you among the living. I've heard all about you from Choroppi.”
Osomatsu whistled. “Choroppi, huh? So you're that close? 'Atta boy, Choromatsu!”
It was Choromatsu's turn to stammer. The woman, who Karamatsu guessed was Chihiro Sakaki, wrapped her arm around Choromatsu's waist and planted a kiss on his cheek. That silenced him quick enough.
Karamatsu turned to the girl in uniform and bowed to her, winking on his way up.
“You must be the lovely Ms. Yoshimi I've been hearing so much about.”
“No, really,” grumbled Ichimatsu. “Osomatsu won't shut up about you.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” said Osomatsu. “I resent that.”
“I resent your face,” growled Ichimatsu.
“We have the same face, idiot.”
“Now, my dear brothers, let's not fight in front of these beautiful young ladies.”
“How about don't fight in my cafe?”
Todomatsu bopped each of his brothers on the head with a set of menus, after which he handed two to Yoshimi and Chihiro.
“Order anything you like,” said Todomatsu, wearing his sweetest smile. “My brothers are paying.”
“It's on me,” Karamatsu began, pulling out his wallet, but Todomatsu bopped him on the head with a menu again.
“Except for this one.”
“Not fair,” Osomatsu whined, at which Totty shot him a venemous look.
“I know you won big at the horse races yesterday, big brother. The least you can do is treat your guest.”
“Oh, I'm paying for Yoshimi. But I'm not paying for my good-for-nothing brothers.”
“Like I said,” Karamatsu tried again, “I can pay—”
This time, Ichimatsu shoved a hand in his face, pushing him onto the floor and out of the way.
“Who you calling good-for-nothing, you good-for-nothing?”
“You, you good-for-nothing.”
“Baseball!”
“Jyushimatsu, don't flip the tables!”
“Don't fight in my cafe!”
“You okay?”
Karamatsu, stunned, looked up to see Yoshimi blinking down at him. She extended a hand, which he took. She hauled him up with a strength that belied her small frame. In the background, his brothers continued bickering while Chihiro laughed and Todomatsu threatened to throw them all out.
“I'm perfectly fine, sweet lady,” sang Karamatsu. He straightened up with a grand flourish and brought his right hand to his chin while posing with his left hand on his hip. “Just the sight of your heavenly face has revitalized my tired soul. Ah, you must be an angel, sent to guide me through the tumultuous waters of this dark sea we call life!”
He opened one eye to regard her reaction, wasn't surprised to see her staring at him with one-eyebrow raised. He wasn't expecting her to smile at him, a smile that broke down into a fit of quiet giggles.
“Pffft. I can see why Osomatsu had a hard time describing you. You're very...unique.”
You are beautiful, Karamatsu.
(That far away face, those far away eyes, grey, warm, melting into them, so soft, so, so sweet. Beautiful.)
Not that unique, Karamatsu thought, wearing a tight smile. Not beautiful, either. Not that real, not that alive, not really anything, not really anywhere, lost, lost, losing—
“Hey.”
A pair of hands on the sides of his face brought him back into the present. He stared into Osomatsu's eyes. He tried to get control of his breathing, which he realized, belatedly, had gone ragged.
“Where'd you go, buddy?”
Osomatsu smiled at him, but it was a smile laced with worry, with almost fear. Beyond him, Karamatsu saw concern in the faces of his other brothers, of Chihiro and Yoshimi. All eyes, trained on him. He hated it. He needed them to look away. Look away, look away, look away—
“I was imagining myself as a shining idol making lovely maidens' hearts sway with my melodious voice. One day, I, Karamatsu Matsuno, will achieve this dream.”
Collective groans from his brothers. An awkward giggle from Yoshimi. Flat out snorting laughter from Chihiro. But they weren't paying attention to him anymore. They all turned back to talking with each other, catching up on their respective days, putting in their orders. His heart, which had tightened in his chest, eased up a bit. Now he felt like crying. Now he could barely keep his thoughts in order. But he had to, for his brothers' sake. For Chihiro and Yoshimi's sakes.
“Anything for you, nii-san?”
Though his head spun when he moved it, he focused hard on Todomatsu and did his best to keep his grin.
“Just a regular coffee, black.”
Despite his attempts to be normal, to keep attention off of himself, Todomatsu's brow furrowed. He set the extra menus in his hands aside and frowned at Karamatsu.
“Are you sure you're okay, nii-san? That doesn't sound like you. Don't you want something a little more...I don't know, flashy?”
Ah. Ah, right. Flashy, like him. Flashy, like his words, his voice, his actions, flashy like everything about him, so blinding that no one could stare for long, no one could see through him, see that he was a ghost drifting through the weeks, through the years...
He bit back a laugh. There he went, being weirdly dramatic again. He supposed it suited him.
What would you think of me now, Yuichi?
“I'm alright, Todomatsu. Just a regular coffee, please, black. I'm feeling manly today.”
“And there he is,” Todomatsu sighed. “Understood, nii-san. One black coffee it is.”
It was hard to pay attention to what his brothers were saying. The cafe was cool, which made him uncomfortable. He kept fiddling with his missing fingers, running his right thumb across them, wincing at the wrong. Should have been more than his fingers missing. Could've lost so much, but it was God's own luck that he came back as whole as he did. Freezing near to death changed him in more ways than just physically. Any drop in temperature sent him reeling, raised his heart rate, tightened his throat and stole his breath away. But he couldn't tell his brothers, or his parents. He didn't want to worry them any more than they already worried.
“...and that's why we should adopt Yoshimi as our little sister.”
Karamatsu tuned back into the conversation just as Osomatsu made that bold statement and rubbed his index finger under his nose. Yoshimi's wide eyes and rapidly reddening face made it clear this was as much a surprise to her as anyone else.
The first to respond was Ichimatsu, who simply said, “Okay.” The slow, lazy grin plastered on his face gave away his amusement—like he just wanted to see how far they could take this, where it would go.
Jyushi was next with an enthusiastic, “Sister!” followed by him scooping Yoshimi up in his arms and spinning her around.
Todomatsu, having just brought out the coffee, hummed in thought, tapping his finger on his chin.
“Well, you're cute, so I wouldn't mind giving the title of youngest to you.”
Choromatsu clucked a “so irresponsible,” but Chihiro nudged him in the ribs and he grudgingly muttered, “It's fine, I guess.”
“What do you think, Karamatsu?” Osomatsu asked.
Karamatsu regarded Yoshimi, who was still squeezed tight in Jyushimatsu's arms. Jyushi had their faces squished together, making Yoshimi look like a sad dumpling.
“Who am I,” said Karamatsu, “to break a young girl's heart. Of course I will be your big brother, my sweet darling.”
“I'll do my besh chu be a goo shishter.”
Everyone took their turn shaking Yoshimi's hand. Osomatsu slung an arm across her shoulder and mussed her hair. Totty gave her a welcoming hug. Karamatsu took both of her hands and kissed her knuckles. Even Chihiro hugged her and offered congratulations. It wasn't everyday someone entered a cafe and walked out with six new older brothers.
Karamatsu was happy for her, really he was. She seemed like a sweet kid. So why, why, why was his stomach in knots? Why did he feel like throwing up?
Quietly, he excused himself from the table. No one paid him any mind. That was just fine. Easy in, easy out. He was used to being forgotten. (No. Couldn't be resentful for that. It's what he wanted).
In the bathroom, everything inside came choking outside. His whole body hurt—his stomach, his head, his chest, his throat. He gagged until there was nothing left, gagged until tears streamed down his face. Thankfully, no one came in. Thankfully, no one would ever know. By the time he came back out, shaking and pale, sunglasses on to hide the red in his eyes, his brothers were gathering themselves up to leave. No one noticed him return to the table. No one noticed him trembling in his pleather jacket. Fine. Just fine. Just how he liked it.
He left money on the table, even though Todomatsu scolded him not to. Who could stop him? He was a grown man.
He quietly bid farewell to Yoshimi, to Chihiro, collectively to his brothers, who were bickering about something or other again. He couldn't quite zone in enough to catch what it was about this time, but it hardly mattered to him now. He slipped out of the cafe and into the glaring light of late afternoon.
February. Still a bite in the air, still enough to set him on edge. He pulled his jacket tighter around him, rubbed his hands together and breathed heat into them. The bridge called to him with all its romance and the promise of cute girls waiting to be wooed, but with his body weak as it was, the call from bed was stronger. He tucked his hands into his pockets and set his feet for home, counting his footsteps, counting his heartbeats, counting his breaths.
Aching, head spinning, stomach churning. Every movement, every minor twitch of his limbs, agony. He lost track of minutes, then of hours. Again and again, lurking at the edge of his vision, a young man in a scarf and winter coat, frowning down at him. Karamatsu tried to reach for him, tried to grab those warm hands that he knew would stop his shivering, but always, always, the man was just out of reach.
“Yu...ichi...”
Karamatsu groaned and curled in on himself, biting back against another wave of sick. The room was dark, cold, and he was alone. It was knowing he was alone that made the apparition that much worse. Yuichi wasn't there. He wasn't there, yet Karamatsu saw him wavering like a fog every time he opened his eyes.
It was a nightmare. Worse, because he was very much awake. He couldn't sleep if he tried, and oh, how he tried. Each time he started to sink, a stab of nausea pulled him back to the surface. Eventually, he curled up beneath the toilet, trembling, eyes watering. Too much of a hastle to be crawling back and forth. He had nothing left to spit up anyway. He was empty, empty.
Forever and a day went by before Yuichi's hands finally reached him. Took him by the shoulders, rolled him over, shook him, gently. So gently. A voice called to him, soft, afraid.
“Nii-san? Karamatsu nii-san?”
Ah. Not Yuichi. Jyushimatsu. And he was...crying? No. His little brother shouldn't cry. Not over him.
“Shh...shh, Jyushimatsu, it's alright. No need for that.”
Karamatsu put a hand to Jyushi's face, cupped his cheek, thumbed away his tears. Jyushi nuzzled into his touch, gripped at Karamatsu's wrist for dear life.
But then, then he was gone, vanished out the bathroom door in a flash. Footsteps thundering down the hall: don don don. More footsteps thundering back, don don don, don don don. A blur of yellow, a haze of red.
Osomatsu lifted Karamatsu into his lap, put a cool hand on Karamatsu's forehead. It felt so good, that cold. Karamatsu whimpered when the hand fell away.
“Idiot,” hissed Osomatsu. “Why didn't you tell us you were feeling bad? You've got a hell of a fever, buddy.”
“What are you talking about, brother,” Karamatsu said through grit teeth. “I feel absolutely fine.”
“Cut your bullshit, Karamatsu. Jyushi, can you carry him to the couch?”
He groaned the moment his body left the ground. It hurt so much just to be moved, and every step Jyushimatsu took sent another wave of nausea pulsing through him. The whole way, Osomatsu was at his side, quietly shushing him, murmuring gently, “I know, I know.”
When his body finally hit the couch, the soft cushions were too much for him. He rolled over and gagged, but nothing came up. Tears streaked down his face.
Osomatsu hissed.
“Christ.”
He smoothed his hands over Karamatsu's brow a second time, and Karamatsu leaned into him.
“How the hell'd you get like this, Karamatsu?”
Karamatsu tried to laugh, but all that came out was a sorry croak. Osomatsu cursed under his breath. Karamatsu heard his brothers moving around, heard Osomatsu muttering some command or other to Jyushimatsu, but since his eyes were pinched shut he couldn't see what was going on. After a bit of shuffling and some movement that made Karamatsu cringe in pain, he found himself with his head cradled in Osomatsu's lap.
“Oso...ma...”
“Yeah, shut up for a second.”
A thermometer was jabbed under his tongue. A few seconds, a beep, and Osomatsu pulled it out, whistling.
“38C. We need to get some fluids in you, asap.”
“Does he need to go to the hospital?”
That was Jyushimatsu. Poor Jyushimatsu. Karamatsu wanted to sit up and hug him, wanted to comfort him, but he could barely keep his eyes open without feeling like he had to vomit.
“I don't think so,” Osomatsu answered, sounding pensive. “Better call the doctor, though, just in case. And tell Choromatsu to bring some water up here, yeah?”
Footsteps pounding out of the room. Osomatsu's hand smoothing over Karamatsu's brow. He felt like a little kid again. He would've giggled, if he could. Too cold, too hot, too delirious. Yuichi sat cross-legged in the corner of the room, regarding him.
February. He supposed it was about time to visit Yuichi again. As soon as he got better. If he got better. Maybe Yuichi was there to take him away. Haha.
“Hold on there, bud,” Osomatsu murmured, giving Karamatsu a gentle shake. “I'm gonna need you to stay awake just a little longer. You need water, and some medicine. After that, you can rest all you want, alright?”
Karamatsu groaned, but nodded against his brother's stomach. Soft. Warm. Easy to drift off. Couldn't do that, though. Osomatsu told him not to do that. But he finally felt comfortable after hours and hours, so why not? Why not...
Cool liquid against his lips. Didn't realize how parched he was until the water trickled down his throat. Then he couldn't get enough of it. Strong fingers prodded his lips apart, slipped a couple capsules into his mouth. He swallowed them down, one, two.
“There you go,” said Osomatsu. “Easy enough, right?”
Easy enough. Easy enough now to fall asleep, to sink into the heaviness crawling through his limbs bit by bit by bit.
Somewhere in the muffled background he heard Choromatsu's high-pitched whine: “Is he going to be alright?”
Low muttering, probably Ichimatsu. Frantic buzzing, Todomatsu for sure. Sniffling. Jyushimatsu. All his brothers, there for him, fussing over him. It embarrassed him, but he'd be lying to himself if he said it didn't make him a little happy, too. That was one fear he could strike off his list, the next time he spoke to his therapist. His brothers would never leave him alone.
Finally, finally, he drifted off, the sound of his brothers' soft murmurs a lullaby playing dully at the back of his mind.
You are beautiful, Karamatsu.
He should be comforting Yuichi, should be holding Yuichi, but instead it is Yuichi holding him, squeezing him tight while he sobs onto his chest. He can't help it. He is hopelessly, desperately in love.
“You are beautiful, Karamatsu,” Yuichi whispers into his hair, stroking the back of his neck. “There's no such thing as lost hope.”
It amazes Karamatsu that Yuichi can say such a thing, here, now, given everything that's happened to him. Bit by bit he's lost everything, will lose everything else, and yet...and yet...
He smiles like that. Glowing. Blinding bright. Like he's fine, like he's so okay with it all, like it hasn't touched him in the least. Even lying on this hospital bed, even sallow and thin and transparent as he's become, he smiles at Karamatsu so soft, so warm, so hopeful. It breaks Karamatsu's heart.
He holds tight to Yuichi's hand, peppering it with kisses, peppering his face with kisses. Yuichi just laughs. He laughs and he laughs, and he pats Karamatsu's head like he's an over-excited puppy.
“Karamatsu, it's going to be okay. Whatever happens, I'll be okay. And so will you. We'll always be the best of friends.”
Friends. Friends, forever. But Yuichi knows, and Karamatsu knows he knows, that the kind of love they feel for each other goes far, far beyond friendship. Yuichi thinks he's saving Karamatsu by keeping him at arm's length. Karamatsu doesn't want to be saved.
Forgetting himself, forgetting time and place, he takes Yuichi's face in his hands and presses his lips to Yuichi's lips. Soft, supple, still strong even if every other part of him is beyond weak. He pushes, adds pressure, adds tongue, and Yuichi's lips fold open like a welcoming blossom. But just like that, in an instant, a hand shoves gently at Karamatsu's chest, easing him away.
Close, breathing each other in, breathing hard.
“I'm sorry, Karamatsu,” Yuichi says, pain in his voice, pain in his eyes. “I can't. Not to you. I won't.”
“I know,” Karamatsu whispers. He leans his head against Yuichi's chest again. “I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I...”
“Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one who—”
“Please, don't.”
Karamatsu clings so, so tight. He clings tighter than he's ever clung to anything, as if with his hands alone he can keep Yuichi tethered down. No amount of clinging is enough. He knows that. He knows it when Yuichi slips far, far away. He knows it when Yuichi is gone.
He knows it when he stands in the alleyway, punching, punching, punching the wall until his knuckles split, until blood pools in his palms and coats his fingertips. The pain in his hands is nothing—nothing compared the hollow ache inside of him, nothing compared to what's missing, now and forever.
He was beautiful. And he was gone.
He woke to a black tunnel squeezing the air out of his lungs. Heart pounding its way through his ribs. Thoughts racing around in his skull, scrambling to tear free of him. He leaped up, body tense, clenching and unclenching his fists. He needed to hit something. He reached for the nearest body to him, paused when it yelped. Ichimatsu. He had Ichimatsu by the collar, cowering. No. Nonononononononono—
Karamatsu dropped his brother with a heavy thud. Groaning, he put his hands to his head, trying to quiet the noise. So much noise. God, it hurt.
“Ichimatsu, I'm...I'm sorry—”
Ah, too late. Ichi bolted from the room. Were those tears in his eyes? Shit. He really messed up this time. After all his promises to himself to never lay a hand on his brothers, to never hurt one of them again, he went and did the unforgivable.
His breaths came hard and fast as he curled up on the couch, begging, pleading with the monster inside to go back to sleep. He still felt it there, coiling, lurking, snarling to get out. He wouldn't let it out. Refused. He'd die first.
Head still pounding, body still trembling from whatever sickness clawed at him from the inside out, Karamatsu stumbled to the bathroom, shut and locked the door behind him. Scrambling, he pulled his pill bottles from the medicine cabinet and dumped piles of them into his cupped palm. Maimed as his hand was, it could still hold the pills, still do this one thing.
He didn't hear the pounding on the door through the pounding in his head. Almost didn't notice the door fly in as he scooped the first palmful of pills into his mouth and immediately choked on them. Arms wrapped around his torso, squeezed him hard around the middle. The pills came flying out of his throat, out of his mouth to clatter on the floor. Karamatsu reached for them, tried to twist his way out of the arms around him, but they kept an iron grip.
“Stop,” shouted the owner of the arms, frantic, desperate. Osomatsu. “Karamatsu, stop! You're not thinking straight. Calm down!”
“No. No. No. I hurt Ichimatsu. I can't. I have to go. I have to—”
“You're not going anywhere. Ichimatsu is fine. You're sick, knock it off!”
“I'm a monster.”
“You are not. That's the fever talking. Settle down, would you?”
Ah, he did feel a bit dizzy. Spinning, whirling, falling, and his head still hurt like it was being scooped out with a spoon. Reluctantly, Karamatsu let Osomatsu guide him out of the bathroom, back to the couch. He coughed and wept as Osomatsu held him, as Osomatsu rocked him like a child and stroked his hair.
“Heeey, hey,” Osomatsu cooed. “You're okay. You're gonna be okay.”
“I'm dangerous, I can't be here—”
“Here is exactly where you're going to stay.”
“You should be sending me away—”
“Like hell I'm gonna make that mistake again. Listen to me.”
Osomatsu grabbed Karamatsu's face and forced him to look him in the eyes.
“Whatever's going on with you, whatever is hurting you or whatever you're afraid of, I've got your back, okay? I'm not gonna leave you alone again. Never again.”
That was the last straw. Karamatsu broke down harder than he had since Yuichi...since Yuichi...
Before he knew it, he was surrounded by all of his brothers, all latched on to him, all enfolding him in their safe, warm arms. He wasn't alone anymore. He wasn't alone. They weren't afraid of him, even if he was terrified, horrified of himself. Osomatsu was there. His brothers were there. All good. All fine.
A hand on his forehead made him look up. He hiccuped, drawing soft laughter from Osomatsu.
“Your fever's spiking again,” Osomatsu said, nodding to Choromatsu.
Choromatsu immediately stepped out and came back quickly with a glass of water and more medicine.
“This is the last dose you can take for the day,” said Osomatsu, “so try not to get so worked up again, alright?”
Karamatsu nodded. He let Choromatsu scoop the medicine into his mouth, tilted his head back as Choromatsu put the glass of water to his lips. His dizziness slowly abated. All he felt now was tired. He met Ichimatsu's gaze just as he started to drift off again.
“Ichimatsu...Ichi...I'm sorry...”
Ichimatsu snarled. “Shut up, Shittymatsu. No one wants to hear that from you. Disgusting.”
Karamatsu chuckled. Osomatsu brushed at his brow.
“Get some sleep, okay? We'll be right here when you wake up.”
Karamatsu looked around at his brothers' faces, saw them each nod at him, and knew that Osomatsu's words were true. As darkness crept in at the edges of his vision, he felt his brothers squeeze his hand one-by-one, brushing over his missing fingers, holding on as if nothing in the whole world was wrong, as if nothing in the whole world could ever be wrong again.