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The smell of antiseptics and clean linen was something that used to bother Ryuji on his first visit to this clinic. Now, his nose doesn’t mind the slight stinging in his senses. He settles into his seat after putting his shoes on. His therapist seems pleased with his progress over the past few months. He deserves it, he thinks. He worked so hard to get to where he is now.
“Good news, I won’t be seeing you for another three weeks,” his physical therapist tells him as she peruses through his charts. “You’re doing so well that I will be giving you the green light to try for Regionals. Just do the exercises that I taught you regularly and attend your appointments as usual.”
Ryuji nods. It’s good news, alright. He poured his entire heart and soul into making his track dreams spring to life once again. He thanks his therapist and makes his way home.
He and his mother (his sweet angel of a mother, whom he is eternally grateful for) moved to a different district in Tokyo to be closer to the clinic and for a fresh start at a new school. It was difficult at first, despite how cruel his experiences in Shujin Academy were, it was his time there when it felt like he made real friends for the first time in his life. And he won’t lie—bruises and near-death experiences aside, he enjoyed his time as a Phantom Thief.
He’s gotten used to his lonely walks home from the clinic. The silence used to be the least of his worries when he was more concerned with the lingering pain from the day’s session. Now that he is doing a lot better, the silence gives room for him to think.
“Think? Ryuji? Bah!” he imagines Morgana mocking him in his head and smiles at the thought. Their tumultuous bickering relationship aside, he knows they truly care for each other.
The train is relatively clear today, so he takes a seat and settles his bag on his lap. His Featherman keychain jingles at the movement. That’s right, I wonder if Akira still has the matching one, he wonders, mindlessly feeling the crevices of the mask. He chose the yellow one for himself, the right-hand man of the red one. Of course, he gave the leader to Akira. Tracing the keychain with his fingers, his chest flutters at the thought that a hundred miles away, the other boy has a matching one hanging on his bag.
Before meeting Akira, Ryuji was at his all-time low. Who would have guessed that the stranger he met after cursing at his creep of a PE teacher under his breath would take him right out of it? Before meeting Akira (and all of the Phantom Thieves, actually), he lost everything. Nobody in class would look him in the eyes, save for the teachers who would berate him. His old friends in the track team looked at him with disdain, and occasionally with a certain kind of sadness. He was alone. In just a blink, Kamoshida threw him in a dungeon—a dungeon of isolation. A dungeon that was impossible to crawl out of. A dungeon that made his dreams out of reach.
A vibration that shakes his bag snaps him back into reality. A text from his track teammate flashes on his phone screen.
Hiro:
Yo Ryuji, dont forget we got practice tomorrow! And dont be late or else cap would make us clean up again :P
He grins. It feels good to be back on his feet again.
“That was a good session today, boys! While we’re on cooldown, I have a few reminders,” the team captain bellows as the rest of the team catches their breaths at the grassy sides of the track oval.
“Remember that the qualifying tournaments are happening by the end of fall. That’s in a month or so. I need you all to do your best, not just in your training, but in your studies and your health. The coach will not let you compete if you let any of that fall off. Understand?”
The team erupts in excited murmurs and upbeat chatter. But for once, not Ryuji. He takes his time stretching his bad leg, massaging the points that would usually begin to ache up. A year ago, this would bum him out– the ache serving as a reminder of the darkest time of his life. Now, he sees it as a battle scar.
“Is this…” Akira said, softly hovering a finger over Ryuji’s lower thigh. The two were reaching the end of their manga reading marathon one stormy summer afternoon. In fact, the books were now face down on the wooden Leblanc attic floor after the boys needed a huge stretch break. Ryuji was stretching all over the floor like a starfish, his shorts slightly riding up to reveal his surgical scar.
Ryuji didn’t move away from his touch. He mumbles an affirmative, nodding at his question. Akira stayed still, and Ryuji sensed his hesitation to say more.
“You wanna… touch it or somethin’ or what,” Ryuji laughed. “It’s just a scar, bro. It doesn’t hurt.”
“No, it’s just. I’ve never seen it before and- Yeah forget I said–”
“It’s not a big deal, dude. It’s just an old, ugly scar. You can touch it.”
Akira softly traces a part of the exposed scar, concentrating on the grooves and valleys. Ryuji used to be frustrated by the way some of the scars never fully disappeared. But fortunately, as time went on, he began to get used to it.
“It’s not ugly at all.”
Ryuji’s heart fluttered. But he shrugged it off as him being ticklish.
“Didn’t you tell me you had to go through a couple of surgeries for this? That’s really awesome, Ryuji.” That’s right, during their investigations with Kamoshida, Ryuji told him about the recovery that he had to endure. All of the surgeries he had to go through and all of his days on crutches.
“Well, when you put it that way–”
“I’m really glad we put that asshole in his place.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Ryuji erupted in laughter, with Akira’s usual poker face showing hints of confusion through his furrowed brows.
“I’m not saying I disagree bro, but that took me off guard.”
“I’m serious, man!”
The two laughed.
“But seriously, you really are something, Ryuji. After going through all this, you’re still here. You didn’t let him stop you. At this point, I think nothing can stop you.”
Ryuji feels a tickle in his throat, threatening a cough. He quickly covers his mouth and hunches over, to the surprise of his teammates. He tells his teammates that it must be the chilly weather—they are in the middle of autumn, after all. After reassuring him that he is fine, the team scatters home.
Except Ryuji, who gets distracted by the smells coming from an opening door of the local Gyudon place on his way to the station. He remembers that his mother will be coming home late tonight and that he should be having dinner, anyway.
The mountain of pickled ginger that he places on his bowl reminds him of his first time dining with Akira. Boy, I have been missing that guy more than usual today, huh? He thinks to himself, scarfing down his savory meal. He is sure the warmth of the bowl and the piles of ginger will cure him from whatever cold he is about to catch. Before heading out, he shoots Akira a quick text to ask him how he is doing.
His phone doesn’t ring again until after he settles in bed, showered, and in his pajamas (which are just an old loose shirt and some sweatpants. The shirt may have been Akira’s that he left during one of their sleepovers, but who cares).
Akira:
I’m sorry I haven’t been around much,,,
Before Ryuji can reply, his phone dings once more.
Akira:
Actually, I’ve been keeping something from you, Ryuji.
Ryuji’s jaw drops. What would he be keeping from him? They’re best friends, they never keep things from each other.
Akira:
Don’t worry, it’s not bad. I actually have a surprise for you.
:)
He lets out a breath. That little shit.
Me:
Quit it with the creepy emojis man!!! ur scarin’ me!!!
__
Ryuji usually prefers to have slow Sunday mornings. After a week’s worth of school and practice, he treats himself to a few extra snoozes. He lulls between dream and reality until a series of pings from his phone finally shakes him awake.
Futaba:
RYUJI!!!!
Futaba:
Come to Leblanc, quick!!!!
Futaba:
I need your help!!!
He jolts out of bed and gets ready for the day. Ryuji doesn’t mess around when it comes to Futaba. The shy, nerdy redhead became like a little sister figure of sorts. He also swore to Akira to take good care of the two Sakuras while he was away.
With his relocation to the opposite side of town from Leblanc, he wastes no time catching the next train to Yongen-Jaya.
Not much has changed in the past year since Akira’s leave. This side of town remains quiet as ever. The antiques shop and the clinic remain unchanged. He turns the corner and finds the quaint cafe. Save for the shut attic windows and the newly pristine sign above the cafe, the exterior remains as familiar as ever. He notices the “closed” sign on the door and peeks through the glass. It’s dark. That’s odd. The boss would never close the shop unless there’s something up.
He swallows and tries for the door, and with a swift click, it swings open. “Sorry for the intrusion,” he says, walking inside. Is Futaba okay? Did something happen to Sojiro?
“Hello?” he says, drawing out his greeting. “Futaba? Boss? Are you guys in here?”
Suddenly, he hears a clatter from the attic and rushes up the stairs. The attic hasn’t changed much since Akira left, except it’s obviously emptier of his personal belongings. The desk and bed remain untouched. He sees a few newer boxes have taken up some space on the floor. Sojiro does need to put his stocks for the cafe somewhere , he supposes. Nothing seems to be out of place in the attic…
Ryuji feels a pang in his chest after taking another breath and realizing that the familiar smell of the attic—of Akira —is starting to be overtaken by the curry and coffee from downstairs.
Then he feels heavy hands on his shoulders.
“Boo,” a soft voice whispers.
And with all his might (or so he thinks), Ryuji swings his elbow behind him and turns around…
Only to find Akira hunched over, holding his rib.
“Alright… Maybe I deserved that,” he breathes out.
“Akira?! What the eff man?! What are you doing here?!” Ryuji exclaims, but he wastes no time tending to the hunched-over boy, leading him to sit on the old bed on the crates.
“I wanted to surprise you!” Akira says, rubbing his chest. “Man, you really knocked the wind out of me, huh.”
“Surprise me? What kind of surprise is this?! I thought Futaba and the Boss died or somethin’!” Ryuji dramatically exclaims, poking the other boy on the shoulder.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Akira says with a hint of laughter. “But that’s not my only surprise.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m moving back to Tokyo. Here, in Leblanc. Sojiro agreed to act as my guardian again.”
The ever-so-loud Ryuji remains speechless, his mouth agape.
“After moving back to my hometown, I realized I really miss the life that I built here in Tokyo. I really grew here, I think. Maybe it’s the fast-paced culture of the city or what,” Akira continues. “Well, y’know, besides the Metaverse stuff, I really missed living here. So I asked my parents if I could transfer back to Shujin and live with the Sakuras again.”
Akira pauses and observes Ryuji’s face. He swears he hasn’t blinked since he dropped the news.
“They agreed, under the condition that I do well in my final year of high school and I get into a good university in Tokyo. So we contacted Sojiro and Futaba, and they were just as excited as I was.”
Ryuji, mouth still agape, grips Akira’s shoulders.
“You better not be shittin’ me right now, man.”
Akira chuckles and points at the boxes on the heavy-duty shelf. “Then what are these boxes doing here, then?”
This must be the best thing that happened to Ryuji in the past year, which says a lot considering he thinks the fact that he is back on a track team was the best news since his first year of high school. He tackles Akira into a bear hug.
“This… This is awesome, man! I can’t believe this!” Ryuji cheers. But pulls back to sock him on the shoulder.
“Ow! What was that for!”
“For that effin’ prank! I really thought Futaba and Sojiro like, got robbed or something. Hey, where are they anyway?”
“Futaba was in on the prank, of course. She convinced Sojiro to close up the shop for a bit,” Akira explains, rubbing his shoulder, a smile still evident on his face. “And I know you’re dying to know where he is, but Futaba catnapped Morgana, so he’s having lunch with them right now.”
As if on cue, a small voice can be heard from downstairs. “Hey! Are you two lovebirds done now? Come down! Sojiro wants to see you too!”
The two chuckle and begin to make their way downstairs. But Futaba’s little tease echoes in Ryuji’s head once more, and he feels a tickle in his chest. Oh, shit.
Before catching himself, Ryuji falls to the ground in a coughing fit. Akira sinks to the ground, his eyebrows raised, and his arms surrounding the other boy. The scent of the raven-haired boy only made Ryuji’s coughing fit continue. His shampoo, his favorite detergent, the way coffee clings on his skin. Ryuji feels like his head is underwater.
The two sit on the ground for a minute, waiting for Ryuji to catch his breath.
“Do you need me to call Sojiro? Or Takemi—”
“No! I’m fine! I probably just caught a cold. Been coughing a lot the past week. It’s probably just the chilly weather.”
The other narrows his eyes. “Alright, but if it gets worse, I’ll make you go see Takemi. I’m serious.”
“Alright, alright. Thanks, mom ,” Ryuji teases.
Akira clicks his tongue and stands up on his own. “I should have left you squirming on the floor,” he snaps back with a cheeky grin. Ryuji feels another light itch in his throat.
After a hearty serving of curry for dinner courtesy of Leblanc, Akira shoos away Morgana to stay with Futaba for the night, knowing that the cat will just constantly whine out of boredom or complain about the attic’s need for a good dusting. Not that Ryuji is complaining– he volunteered to stay after dinner to help unpack—and the potential bickering and banter with the cat may not be so productive.
As Akira organized the books and stationery on his desk, Ryuji was given the task of unpacking his box of trinkets and memorabilia. He sees the familiar stars that he put up on the ceiling and the poster of Risette from that one trip to Akihabara. Placing the familiar Jack Frost plush on his shelf makes Ryuji wonder about how his best friend manages to juggle so many hobbies, responsibilities, and relationships at once. How could he have the time to hang out at the arcade with all of this on his plate? Ryuji could barely balance his newfound efforts to maintain his grades, in addition to his training for track.
He feels a dome-shaped object wrapped in old newspaper. It was the model ramen that Akira received when the two went out for ramen about a year ago.
“You kept this?” Ryuji asks him as he places it in its old spot on the shelf. Back where it belonged.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Akira glances over his shoulder and then returns to his work on the desk.
“I dunno, was expecting a fresh start from you or somethin’, always pegged you as the minimalist type,” he says as he continues his task.
“Fair. But I gotta make this attic really feel like home again, y’know?”
Home. Ryuji gulps. He really is back again. Ryuji fights back another itch in his throat with strange noises that make Akira glance over his shoulder once again.
“You okay?” he narrows his eyes at the other.
“Yeah, dude. The attic’s just so dusty,” Ryuji says. He hopes that his watery eyes aren’t obvious from where Akira is sitting.
“Sure, but not that dusty. You know me,” he says. The glare in Akira’s glasses is making it hard to see his eyes, and for once, Ryuji is thankful. It’s hard to lie to his best friend with his deep ebony eyes that he can easily get lost in— wait, what?!
“Is that cold getting worse?” Akira’s voice snaps Ryuji back into reality. “You’ve been spacier than usual. I’m serious about taking you to Takemi—”
“I’m fine, dude! You haven’t even settled in yet! Let’s get back to work,” he turns his back on the other before he presses on. Starting on another box, he sees a small stack of picture frames on top. “Where do these go?” he asks Akira.
“Oh, those. Some of them can go on the windowsill next to the desk,” Akira says, sitting up from his desk chair to move next to Ryuji. “I can take over this one.”
The two ease into a comfortable silence once they get into the groove of things. Never mind Ryuji’s slight urge to cough after seeing the sports watch he gave him before Akira left Tokyo, or the tickle deep in his chest after spotting the familiar Featherman keychain on his bag.
As a reward, Akira orders Ryuji to make himself comfortable as he goes downstairs to fix them both some hot chocolate. Restless and easily bored as ever, Ryuji peeks at the small frames on the windowsill.
There is a group picture of the Phantom Thieves before Akira left last April. That’s to be expected. In the next frame is a photo of Akira and two figures that share his features. He realizes that he has never met his best friend’s parents before. The two figures stand tall, their presence strong and intimidating even through a photograph. They give off a totally different vibe from Akira, whose cool demeanor could make him blend in with anything. But he knows that is not the real Akira. The real Akira is warm and bright. The real Akira stands out as a reliable leader—a strong pillar, and a selfless friend.
He’s also a real ass, Ryuji thinks as he sees a familiar photo in the next frame, the one that was taken after the downfall of Shido. Ryuji, on the verge of tears, had his arm wrapped around a smiling Akira. That photo was supposed to stay in the group chat!
Feeling his face heat up, Ryuji turns the frame over. Not many people who know him know that Akira can be a real joker . And that is one of the reasons why he loves him.
He coughs.
Love?
But in a platonic way, of course.
He coughs again.
Of course, in a platonic way! This is a perfect friendship! We’re just bros!
Ryuji feels something getting stuck in his throat. He coughs and coughs. He needs to think fast before Akira forces his ass down to Takemi’s. The best thing he can think of is to lock himself in the Leblanc bathroom. Great, now the only exit point is blocked off.
His knuckles are turning white with the way he grips the sink, but he is holding on for dear life as his lungs attempt to eject whatever is inside him. Fortunately, his strenuous labor comes to an end at the sight of a lone petal falling gently on the sink.
Oh, shit.
Suddenly, he hears a knock on the door.
“Ryuji, is everything fine in there?” he hears a muffled voice.
Obviously, he is not fine. Through the mirror, he can see a slight sheen on his skin, his pale cracking lips, and his disheveled hair. But instead, he urges his best voice to tell Akira that he is fine. That everything is perfect.
Because he needs everything to stay exactly where they are.
Autumn is in full swing, with the auburn leaves scattering all over the city, carried by the brisk wind. It won’t be long before winter hits, meaning that the end-of-season competitions are fast approaching. Akira’s arrival in town did not distract Ryuji from his goal of competing at the nationals. Sure, his coughs are growing more severe, and Akira’s persistence in taking him to the doctor hasn’t stopped, but Ryuji had learned the art of subtlety. Something that even he knows he is not naturally gifted at. When the two would hang out, he’d learned to sneak a few bathroom breaks in between to let out a petal or two.
On one of his sleepless nights, he had looked up online about his condition. Hanahaki Disease: a literal kind of lovesickness. Only those who experience unrequited love would have flower petals blossom in their lungs (and if the condition is severe, it may even reach their heart). Before this happened to him, he’d only heard stories online or around school.
There are only two known ways of curing this disease. The best-case scenario: if the inflicted person confesses their feelings to the person they love, and it turns out that it is reciprocated, the person will be free from the disease. The other way is much more grim: the petals can be surgically removed. But this way comes with a catch—this will permanently remove the person’s romantic feelings for the other. There is also the risk of losing all of their memories of their former beloved. Ryuji feels that both options are unacceptable.
Option A is out of the question for him. This would only ruin their perfect friendship. What if he confesses to Akira, and he feels absolutely disgusted that a loser like him would secretly see him in that way? In what world would someone like Akira return his feelings? Someone as patient, selfless, smart, and occasionally hilarious? And Ryuji has eyes: Akira is the prettiest human that he has ever laid eyes on. His slender, slightly taller frame gives an air of confidence, even with his slight slouch when he walks with his hands in his pockets. He always feels ungraceful standing next to him, with his banana-shaped spine (a habit he hadn’t gotten rid of as of yet despite the efforts of his therapist), but he doesn’t mind, because it only made Akira feel like he is standing on a pedestal, with the way the city lights or the soft sunlight radiates over him— wait, huh?!
Option B is a costlier, messier route. His mother is already taking up extra shifts at the hospital as a nurse to support them both, not to mention his physical therapy sessions. Ryuji is helping out with the expenses, of course, taking up part-time work and occasional odd jobs to prepare for university (something that was but a pipe dream for him a year prior). He would not have enough to undergo surgery. And if he did, there is also the risk of forgetting all of his memories with Akira. It is something that he could not risk.
Option C suddenly pops into Ryuji’s head as he lies in bed, eyes still wide open. He could continue carrying on as normal, harboring his feelings for his best friend in secret. He’s been doing a great job in the past few weeks. Maybe he can keep this up and eventually lose these feelings. It’s just a phase, right? Akira and I are just bros. Two best dudes. Pals forever, that kinda thing. Ryuji replays this in his head until he falls asleep.
The continuation of Option C commences the very next day when Ryuji stops over at a convenience store before school to buy a packet of cough drops. It’s not much, but he hopes this will be enough to resist the urge to cough. The qualifying tournaments are coming up in the next two weeks, and he won’t let an itchy throat get in the way of that.
It’s easy enough to get through the school day without raising any suspicions, but as much as Ryuji hates to admit it, his practices after school are becoming difficult to keep up with. Running is supposed to be freeing for him. But right now, it’s something that he dreads. He delays his time changing in the club room by doing some stretches. He decides to peek at his phone quickly before stashing away his bag in his locker.
Akira:
good luck with practice!
He smiles at the text. Futaba’s constant use of emoticons has really been rubbing off on him. He feels a stabbing crack in his chest. Can he really keep up with Option C if even a text message makes his heart race? He pops another cough drop in his mouth and swings his locker shut.
As the practice drags on, he begins to find the answer to that question. He usually attends practices all pumped up and ready to beat records. But today, he’s been trailing behind his personal bests and nearly tripped on a few hurdles. As the team captain orders a few light laps around the track for cooldown, he lags behind the group.
“Ryuji, can I talk to you for a sec?” his team captain calls after him after sending the rest back to the club rooms to change and go home.
“Yeah, what’s up?” Ryuji asks. But he knows exactly what’s up. He’s not proud of the mistakes that he made today.
“Look, I know you’ve been working hard, and I don’t want to take that away from you,” the team captain says grimly and sighs. “But we both know you haven’t been meeting your goals recently. Is everything okay?
“Yeah, I’m totally fine! I’ve just been feeling under the weather lately,” he said nervously, avoiding his gaze.
“You know our team prioritizes our wellbeing, and if you need to rest up, you can let us know. Actually, I insist that you do.”
Ryuji feels his shoulders drop. “What? No, please! You know that’s not possible! I have to train harder than the rest of the guys because of my gap year from track,” he laments.
“But your condition will only get worse if you keep pushing yourself any further. You know our coach drills into our heads that rest is just as important,” he explains. The captain’s eyes soften. “Are you sick? You’ve been coughing a lot lately, and you were practically wheezing earlier.”
Ryuji straightens his shoulders the best that he can. “I’m fine! I promise. It’s just the cold weather, and I haven’t been sleeping well. But I’ll do better, I promise!”
“Alright… But if something bad happens, I won’t hesitate to pull you from the tournament. Now, let’s get back to the club room.”
Thanks to packets and packets of cough drops, he made it through another week of school and practice without much of a fuss. Wearing a mask to class has also kept the suspicions away from his strange illness. As far as his teachers and classmates are concerned, he’s just battling a common cold.
But it’s becoming harder to hide the evidence. Fortunately, his mother has been taking up the night shift lately so he can freely cough out the increasing amount of petals at home. If it weren’t such a grave situation, Ryuji would be laughing at how the petals are the same color as his bleached blond hair.
But tonight, he stares at a sink full of petals, swirls of delicate yellow among rosy red. It reminds him of his hands in Akira’s hands in the metaverse, remembering the soft brushes of their hands as a way to communicate quietly with each other. He remembers the night he sacrificed himself as bait for Akechi, handing him over the briefcase with slight hesitation. But it wasn’t because of his lack of trust in him. Quite the contrary—he knew their leader would come back to them.
He disposes of the petals and rolls back into bed. One more week until the tournaments , he sighs, rubbing his chest. His breathing is becoming raspy, each breath getting caught within the ripples in his ribs, and he is fighting the urge to shove a hand in his throat and rip the roots off his chest himself.
As one of the last efforts to prepare for the qualifying tournaments, the coaches organized a practice track meet with neighboring schools. Track meets are usually something that Ryuji looks forward to. Sometimes that little friendly rivalry is just what he needs to push himself to the limit. It can also be an excellent way to learn from other athletes. But with the little amount of sleep that he got last night, thanks to the petals that he coughed up and the roots that pinch his lungs, he’s not sure if he can even get to the tracks.
He shrugs on his gym uniform and nearly faints at the sight in front of him.
“Missed me?” Akira says, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.
“Bwuh– What the eff are you doing here, dude!” Ryuji practically babbles.
“A teammate of yours let me in, all I did was mention your name,” he winks, poking at his shoulder.
“No, I mean, what are you doing here?”
Akira frowns, but Ryuji knows that it isn’t a real one. “You’re not excited to see me?” He crosses his arms.
“N-no! I’m glad you’re here! But I’m just… Shocked?”
“I heard there’s a track meet today and I snuck in to watch. You’ve been so busy lately, but remembered that you have a tournament coming up, so I wanted to come see you.”
Ryuji feels bad hearing that. He tried so hard to focus on keeping things as normal as possible that he had no time to hang out or even talk to the person that he apparently loves. But despite that unintentional distance, the flowers in his lungs are only growing deeper. Is Option C actually impossible?
He figures that this is something that he will have to worry about later. For now, he leads them both to the field and finds a place on the bleachers to sit before the meet begins. They catch up on what’s been happening over the past week. Akira comments on Ryuji’s labored breathing, but with Ryuji’s luck, he’s called for his turn in the next race.
He plants his feet on the ground behind him and his hands beneath him. The track stretching in front of him appears to loom in his gaze. He knows that a certain pair of eyes are on him, and his heart is beating so loudly that he barely notices the blare of the whistle. He lets his feet take over, praying that his lungs won’t give in. Not today.
As soon as a bang echoes in the field, he pushes himself forward, trying to focus on the way the crisp breeze stings his face as he runs instead of the pain in his chest.
But he stumbles, crashing to the ground. And with a sudden, violent shake all the way from his throat to the pits of his stomach, a swirl of yellow and red flower petals scatter around him. He gives in to it. Just make it stop . Every petal burns his mouth with a metallic taste, and every heave feels as if his heart is being ripped out.
He doesn’t notice the loud whistle or the crowd forming around him. He doesn’t notice the way he is crying for someone, for a name , as hot tears stream down his face. The tightness in his chest hurts too much.
“Ryu… ji….. Ryu….. ji…” he thinks he hears someone calling back. He attempts to take another breath, a lot better than before, with some of the petals ejected. He comes to his senses once again, realizing that he lies in Akira’s arms.
“It’s okay, I’m here,” the other soothes.
“D-don’t… man…” Ryuji replies weakly before his body grows heavy and his vision goes dark.
The smell of antiseptics and clean linen is something that immediately stings Ryuji’s senses as his eyes fling open. The light in the room is too bright, the curtains that surround him are too blue, his throat too dry, his skin too cold, and his body too heavy.
A gentle squeeze on his left hand grounds him, it reminds him of where he is. The hand on top of his is the same one that saved him from multiple near-death encounters. He squeezes back– as if doing so would purge him of the pain inside him.
“You’re awake,” he says softly, as if not to startle the boy in front of him.
“Yeah…” he replies lamely, rasp in his voice.
They stay still as if both of them are scared to disturb the peace. There is an elephant in the room, and Ryuji is unsure of where to even begin.
“The nurse is calling your mom right now,” Akira finally says.
Oh, great. One more thing for Ma to worry about . Ryuji hates how he’s always been an inconvenience to the people that he cares about. He tries to speak, fighting the scratches in his throat. Instead, a lone rose petal falls to his chest. Red, just like the petals that accompanied the bright yellow.
“You’re… In love with someone?” Akira asks slowly, his voice cracking as it trails off. Ryuji wishes that he could see the eyes underneath the glare of his glasses. Instead, he tightens the grip on his hand.
Akira gulps. “We have to tell them.”
“I can’t!” Ryuji protested with all of whatever is left in him.
“Why not?”
“It’ll ruin everything!”
“But your life is more important!” Akira interjects. Ryuji now has a good view of his eyes, which are now glossy with tears. He closes his eyes, afraid of what those eyes will look like with what he is about to say.
“Nothing is more important to me than you!”
After what feels like a long beat of silence, Ryuji opens his eyes again.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” Ryuji whispers, his voice shaking. He tries to let go of Akira’s hand, who refuses to give in. “I’ve always been such a burden.”
“What are you talking about? You’ve never been a—”
“Because I couldn’t keep this from you. I didn’t want to put anything on you.”
A thumb brushes over Ryuji’s hand. “You will never be a burden to me.”
Suddenly, a tidal wave of emotions rushes inside Ryuji’s chest, as if the petals are pushing him to finally say the words that he had always longed to say.
“I love you,” Ryuji says, voice still rough, but the words flow out like water. He returns the grip once more in his hand, where he always longed for it to be.
“I love you, too,” Akira says softly in his quivering voice, but his voice is loud enough to make Ryuji’s heart skip a beat. “I’ll always be here with you, and you will always be beside me. Like you said, remember?”
Ryuji feels his cheeks heat up at the distant memory from a year ago. Something about him telling Akira that his place is next to him or something effin corny like that. But they both know that it’s true. There are still aches in his chest and the urge to let out a cough or two, but Ryuji feels like he can breathe again, like his head is finally at the surface again.
Akira reaches over their intertwined hands and plants a kiss on his forehead, urging him to sleep, with promises that he will always be by his side.