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There was a little less of him left today. He didn't notice at first. In the beginning he'd kept careful track of which bits fell off, sure every time that this would be it, this would be the end of him. Instead, somehow, he kept limping on for months, and more months, and now it was nearly two years. Today the limping was a little more literal than usual, which was what made Youji notice the newly missing bit in the first place. It didn't hurt. He didn't feel good, and he tired out easily, but it didn't hurt. Sometimes, when it was something important inside him that started dissolving, he felt something that wasn't quite pain and wasn't quite loss, but a little like both those things. And then it passed, and he adjusted to the new normal, until the next time.
Tetsuo never looked away from his body in disgust. When he'd lost his first finger, Tetsuo had lifted his hand to his lips and kissed the stump left behind. He hadn't flinched even once. Youji wondered, at the time, if it was just that he couldn't read the disgust past Tetsuo's poker face, but even as Tetsuo had thawed, bit by bit, he'd never lost the ability to look at what had become of Youji with clear, honest eyes. His big hands were often a little gentler now, careful of disturbing the fragile equilibrium of Youji's failing body, but he still touched him without hesitation. And when he wasn't gentle he was rough with purpose, with intent, possessive in a way that used to scare Youji but was now weirdly reassuring.
Some days he couldn't quite make it out of bed. That had started a few months back, and Youji still wasn't entirely resigned to it. The inside of their little apartment wasn't much of a world, but it was the world he had, and he liked his daily constitutionals around it. He liked personally feeding the fish Tetsuo had bought for him, even if Tetsuo had to leave the lid of the fish food container unscrewed for him because his grip strength had gone with his fifth finger. He liked looking out the window, even if he couldn't risk actually going out onto the balcony. He liked that Tetsuo had thought to buy an apartment with just enough greenery cover so that he could leave the curtains open and enjoy the sun without worrying that anyone else would see what he'd become. He missed these little things when he couldn't have them. He knew he couldn't have them at all for much longer.
On the days he couldn't make the short trip around the apartment--he refused to call them bad days, every day he got to spend with Tetsuo was a good one--Tetsuo carried him over to the window when he came home. The view wasn't as nice at night, but the breeze still felt good on his skin, and he'd never stopped loving the feeling of being in Tetsuo's arms. Even without the pheromones, Tetsuo smelled good to him. His arms were no less comforting without the enticing scent from back then, and it made Youji happy to know that, to know that there was more between them than biological urges.
Youji was sitting on the edge of the bed, panting a little from the exertion of his brief hobble around the apartment, when he heard the sound of the key turning in the apartment door. The lock was as vaguely shabby as the rest of the apartment--worn out and worn down, but clean and well-loved--which meant it took a specific way of angling the key and jiggling the doorknob to get it to open. Tetsuo had it down to a science, so Youji could always tell it was him coming through the door long before he saw him.
"I'm home, Youji." Tetsuo's voice was warm when he greeted Youji, and the pleased rumble of it when he said Youji's name always made something flutter deep inside Youji.
"Welcome back, Tetsuo." Youji held out his arms, and Tetsuo was at his side before he could even finish his greeting. Everything he'd been carrying had been unceremoniously dumped on the table in favour of gathering Youji into his arms. His lips met Youji's, the kiss gentle and almost soothing, the happy-you're-here kiss, instead of the let's-fuck kiss. It deepened after a moment, and Tetsuo's arms tightened around him just a bit, one hand cupping the back of Youji's head with a delicate care that the Youji of two years ago would never have imagined. Nine months ago Tetsuo had tugged on Youji's hair in a heated moment and come away with a whole hank of hair and a chunk of scalp besides. He still liked to touch and pet Youji's hair, but he treated it like spun glass, like a fragile treasure.
They didn't talk about that day, or any of the ones like it. Tetsuo just adjusted where and how he touched Youji and they carried on like everything was normal. For them, this was normal. Some might call it cowardice, this avoidance, but Youji was grateful for it. Enjoying every day as it came, however it came, was a decision he'd made in those crazy high school days and never once regretted.
"What did you bring home for dinner? It smells delicious." Youji hadn't eaten a single bite of food in a year and a half. There was nowhere for it to go, he was pretty sure. Whatever was keeping him alive this long wasn't anything as human as food, but that was okay. He'd barely been eating before and he wasn't sure he'd ever really enjoyed food. Tetsuo did, though, and it made him happy to include Youji in at least the fiction of a normal couple's daily routine. So Youji complimented the smells and the looks of the things Tetsuo brought home, or judged them accordingly when the meal turned out disappointing for Tetsuo.
"Curry from the place by the station." Tetsuo took his cue to carry Youji over to the table, hungry but not quite willing to let go of Youji yet.
"Oh, you really liked that last time. Did you get the same thing?"
"Mm." Not a chatterbox at the best of times, Tetsuo still tended towards comfortable silence while he ate. Youji settled against his side, happy enough to watch the subtle expressions flitting across his face as he enjoyed his meal.
After dinner, Youji asked Tetsuo questions about his day while Tetsuo bathed and changed into his evening clothes. Tetsuo answered with brief comments, some of them scathing and hilarious. He'd been so surprised by this side of Tetsuo when he'd first started loosening up and letting his inner thoughts out a little more. Now Youji was just happy to get to see a side of Tetsuo no one else did.
When Tetsuo was done bathing, it was Youji's turn. "Do you need help today?" That was the closest Tetsuo ever came to asking outright about the condition of Youji's body. When Youji smiled and said he was fine, Tetsuo backed off and left him to his own devices. He stayed in the bathroom, both because he liked to watch Youji bathe and because, admittedly, every once in a while Youji said he was fine on his own and then turned out to be Wrong about that.
Ducking his head under the water, Youji let the warmth of it soak into his bones. He could see the water turning a little pink around him and wondered idly what was bleeding today. He didn't produce Flesh Seeds anymore, but honestly it was like he still did sometimes. In some ways it was worse now; when blood and mysterious chunks of flesh fell out of him these days, usually they were bits of things he really ought to need to function.
Sometimes Youji questioned if his body was even real anymore. He didn't eat. He didn't sweat. His hair never grew or got oily. If it wasn't for the extremely physical reminders that dropped off him in bleeding chunks from time to time, he might as well be a ghost. Looking up at the bathroom ceiling from under the pink-tinted water, Youji wondered what would happen if he just took a deep breath right now. Would water flood his lungs? Would they know the difference between water and air? But Tetsuo was there, just out of sight, waiting for him, and if the answer turned out to be "yes, you still need to breathe air to live," Youji didn't want to put Tetsuo through that. So, he surfaced and breathed in the damp, warm air of the bathroom instead; it smelled of Tetsuo's shower gel.
Getting out of the bath, Youji staggered and almost fell. He'd forgotten about his foot not working right today. Tetsuo was there in a heartbeat, catching him before either of them could find out the hard way what would happen if Youji's head hit the tile floor in this state. Tetsuo helped him over to the stool and had him sit, leaving him there only long enough to grab a huge bath towel. He wrapped Youji up in the towel like a fluffy cocoon and carried him back out into the main room.
Tetsuo dropped him on the bed and knelt over him, a dark look on his face. "Can you try not being an idiot? Just as an experiment." Every day, Tetsuo's sense of humour got just a little more savage and Youji loved every minute of it.
He wriggled free of the towel and reached up to wind his arms around Tetsuo's neck. He didn't answer, because they both knew perfectly well that he was going to continue to act like everything was fine for as long as he possibly could, even if that meant sometimes he fell over in dramatic ways. Instead, he pulled Tetsuo down for a kiss. This one had fire and tongue and teeth, a little angry and a lot hungry.
Tugging ineffectually at the hem of Tetsuo's shirt, Youji said impatiently, "Off." He remembered being shy about sex with the same kind of vague fondness as he remembered everything else from high school--he knew it had been objectively terrible, but he couldn't hate anything that had brought him Tetsuo, in the end. Regrets were a waste of the time they had left together.
Obedient only because it suited him, Tetsuo pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it aside, baring his glorious chest and abs for Youji to appreciate. Youji ran his palms slowly up Tetsuo's sides, feeling the taut skin go hot under his touch.
Just that much, and Tetsuo's fraying self-control was undone. He fumbled blindly between the mattress and headboard for the tube of lube they kept stashed there, pulling Youji into his lap as soon as he found it. One arm wrapped around Youji's waist, fingers digging into his lower back with a wet squish as he found one of the perpetually open wounds there. A trickle of fresh blood oozed down Youji's back, and the groan that escaped his lips wasn't one of pain. He loved the feel of Tetsuo's fingers sinking into him, digging into his insides; the intimacy of having Tetsuo inside him was thrilling, no matter how it happened. He knew that there was something wrong inside his head, that he couldn't tell the difference between pain and pleasure anymore, but he couldn't find the energy to care. He dreamed, sometimes, that the scar on his chest reopened so that Tetsuo could reach inside and hold his heart in his hand; he woke up smiling.
Tetsuo withdrew his fingers after only a few gentle strokes along the inside of the wound, always so careful not to press too hard or too long, but it was those same fingers that he slicked further with the lube before plunging them between Youji's legs. Youji shivered at the feeling, arching his back and spreading his legs wider to give Tetsuo better access. Tetsuo took his time, playing with Youji with only his fingers until Youji was panting with want. It wasn't until Youji delivered a fierce bite to his nipple that Tetsuo relented and replaced his fingers with the head of his cock, pushing in in one slow thrust.
Biting fiercely at Youji's throat, Tetsuo growled, "Mine," into his skin.
"Yes." Always. And Tetsuo was his, for at least a little while longer.
Riding Tetsuo like this, Youji felt him so deep inside, filling him so completely. He wanted to brand his insides with Tetsuo's shape, until his body could never forget this feeling. Sometimes Youji thought that if he could only do this every minute of every day he had left he could call it good, but then he would remember the way Tetsuo's eyes looked when he talked about the future, about the things he was learning and the things he wanted to do, the very human shape of the rest of his life, and Youji could only smile and store away the memories for his long days alone in their apartment.
Long fingers wrapped around Youji's achingly hard shaft and dragged his mind forcibly back to the present. He was so close already, and Tetsuo's practiced hands tipped him over the edge with just a few strokes. He was still a little lost in his own pleasure when he felt Tetsuo tense and go still against him. Tetsuo caught his lips in a kiss and the two of them fell back onto the bed together.
Trailing his fingers through the sticky mess on Youji's thighs and belly, Tetsuo grumbled, "What a waste of a bath." It didn't really sound like he minded. Mostly he just sounded smug and a little sleepy, and Youji was content to watch him quickly drift off. He'd wake up again later and want to get them cleaned up, but Youji would rather watch him sleep until then.
Someday, probably someday soon, he would have to leave Tetsuo alone. But the thought of Tetsuo living a long and happy life, a human life... it didn't make it okay, but it brought Youji a little bit of calm, a little bit of peace. He'd been able to give Tetsuo that chance. Someday, Tetsuo would find someone else--someone normal and human and kind. He could live with that. He could die like that. Still, still, he selfishly wanted that day to be a long time off.
For Youji, closing his eyes to join Tetsuo in sleep was an act of faith--he had to believe that he would open his eyes again in the morning, one more time, and then one more time after that, for as many times as he could get away with. He'd never believed in anything before, but every time he remembered the sight of his father's sacrifice, of his father's body rapidly falling to pieces before his eyes, he could only thank whatever miracle had let him last this long.
As sleep inevitably washed over him, Youji pressed his lips to the hollow of Tetsuo's throat and murmured his only prayer, "One more day." Tetsuo's arms tightened around him, unwilling to let him go even in sleep, a solid anchor that let him believe for a little while longer.