Queerplatonic Radioapple 📻 🍎,,, old men (losers) who care abt e/o
The thing about being an angel is that there are always bloodier, messier ways to do things. There’s an easy way, and there’s a fun way, and despite what they would have you believe, angels are much too bored with eternity to choose anything but the fun way anymore.
Lucifer curses whatever twisted being made him and bestowed his powers upon him- God- then backtracks in his own head, still deathly afraid of being heard and punished. Then, once he remembers that no one is listening, haven’t been for centuries, he curses them again.
Charlie is worried about Alastor. He hasn’t been acting himself these past few days. Rarely leaves his tower unless summoned, his smiles have become tight-lipped and straining. Even with the cursory attention Lucifer has paid him- busy with trying to make up for too many years in a hole- it’s not hard to see that Charlie is right, and something is wrong.
All it takes is a quick, plausibly accidental stroll outside of his rooms to tell Lucifer what it is. Charlie hadn’t asked him to snoop, but she’s nervous. Doesn’t want to lose another friend. Lucifer would do anything and everything to Fix It, and in order to get to that point he needs to know what’s wrong. So he snoops.
The pungent reek of demon blood poisoned with holy light permeates the air around Alastor’s rooms. To anyone but Lucifer it probably doesn’t smell too different, Alastor has very obviously put a lot of effort into covering the stench with rancid deer meat, and gamey sinner. Lucifer knows what a holy wound smells like, though, hell he’s not sure why he didn’t recognize it before now. Alastor’s obviously put in work to keep this a secret but it shouldn’t have worked for this long against the literal king of hell. He’s distracted, too comfortable, needs to sharpen the hell up if he has any plans of actually protecting his daughter and her passion project in any meaningful way.
Once he knows what is wrong, it’s not difficult to devise a fix. What is difficult, is coming to terms with what that will entail.
The way he sees it, there are three ways out of this situation. One, he tells Alastor he knows that he’s still hurt and offers to heal the wound through touch, which will take approximately an hour after which they never have to speak again. That one’s mostly a bust simply because Lucifer reckons Alastor won’t let him get past the first part without mauling him.
Two, he lets Alastor die of being a stubborn, pissy bastard. This one’s not really an option considering the whole reason he’s going through all of this trouble is so that Charlie will stop worrying. Killing him won’t stop the worrying, no matter how much he wishes it would.
Finally, unfortunately the only feasible plan, is to siphon the poison from the wound over time. Slowly imbuing Alastor’s soul with his own, tainted holy energy in order to heal the wound over time. If he does it right, Alastor won’t even know he was healed. The unfortunate part about this plan is that it doesn’t rid the wound from existence like a touch would, it simply transfers it from one soul to another. Lucifer will be taking the wound onto himself, where he can work on healing it naturally, as his body is not poisoned by the purity of angelic wounds. It will hurt, but it will heal. If the wound is left on Alastor, it will never heal.
Begrudging, but still determined to be as useful as possible to Charlie before he inevitably fucks everything up again, Lucifer resolves to go through with plan number three. It takes a week. Seven days of gradually increasing pain, of magicking golden stains from his coat, then being winded from using magic, of sewing himself together each night only to wake up in a pool of his own blood because the wound had grown larger while he slept.
It takes seven days, but at the end of it, Alastor is as chipper as ever, and the crease between Charlie’s brows has smoothed into something joyful. The wound now spans the length of Lucifer’s chest, wrapping around his torso near his ribs and up to his rightmost shoulder blade. Honestly, he’s not sure how Alastor survived so long like this and feels a grudging respect at the man for having pushed through.
The wound throbs, and every so often it will twinge, as if Lucifer were being cut in half- scored and carved all over again- but when he walks downstairs on the morning of the eighth day and finds Alastor cooking, Charlie seated, legs kicking happily at the island… He knows it’s worth it. Any amount of pain would be worth the sheer relief on Charlie’s face as she tracks Alastor’s every move, still looking for any irregularities. Something like pride swells within Lucifer at the knowledge that she will find none. He did that. He brought her that solace. No one will ever know, but that wasn’t the point of it.
“Good morning your majesty!” Alastor crows from the stove, he doesn’t turn to greet him. For a moment Lucifer wonders how he had known he was there, but a pair of eyes glinting in the shadows of the hallway tells him all he needs to know about that. Charlie perks and glances over at him as he’s addressed.
“Good morning, Alastor! You seem awful chipper today, feeling better?” No one will know he helped Alastor, yes, but that doesn’t mean he cant have fun with this. Just the look on his face right now- a smile, frozen, as his brows draw inward in incredulity- is worth the twinge that talking elicits.
Alastor, always the performer, recovers easily. “I’ve no idea what you mean! I have not been sick in decades, your majesty.”
Lucifer only chuckles, hiding his wince by taking a seat next to Charlie at the island. God why does it hurt so much? Why can’t he focus on anything else? Michael had torn off his fucking wings and stabbed him through the heart with blessed steel when he cast him down to hell and he can’t handle a little holy light from Adam? Eternity has made him soft. It’s fucking pathetic.
“Apologies, I didn’t mean to presume. You had Charlie worried!” He grits, trying to keep his voice even and chipper. Charlie smacks him on the arm and he has to fight off a groan. Fucking. Worthless.
“Dad! I wasn’t- I just- UGH.” She stutters, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I still can’t believe we sent you to deal with Adam alone. That never should’ve happened, Al, I’m so so so so sorr-“
Alastor cuts her off with a grin, sliding a steaming plate of eggs, bacon and toast in front of her. “No need, my dear! As you can see I’m right as rain and in one piece.” His eyes slide over to Lucifer for a moment and he hums.
“Would you like some breakfast, your majesty?” He asks, turning back to the stove. Lucifer shakes his head, then regrets it when it makes him dizzy.
“I’m alright, thank you. Had a big dinner.” He manages. Alastor hums again, and Lucifer isn’t sure whether that means he believes him or not.
Charlie finishes her meal in quiet, comfortable conversation with Alastor, some of the other hotel residents who stop in for a bite and, occasionally, Lucifer when he manages to push down the nausea enough to speak without fear of barfing all over her nice pantsuit.
She leaves with little fanfare, but she does pull Lucifer into a side hug that, while agonizing, he will cherish forever. The rest of the ‘reformees’ make their way through the kitchen for the next thirty minutes until Charlie calls everyone to the atrium for some bonding exercises. Alastor does not make any move to leave the kitchen at the announcement, so Lucifer doesn’t, either. He’s also unsure of his ability to not pass out if he stands right now.
It’s so warm in the kitchen, Alastor had the ovens on for cinnamon rolls and it smells heavenly. If Lucifer closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that Lilith is still here, that he hasn’t fucked it all up with Charlie yet. He dozes on the thick marble of the island, chest still twinging, but strangely at peace.
It’s another five minutes of warm silence before the clink of a plate beside his elbow rouses him. A warmth settles to his right.
Blinking his eyes open, Lucifer catches sight of Alastor looking at him. Through him, might be a better description of the action; his eyes rove, calculating over the planes of Lucifer’s face. Alastor isn’t frowning- he never frowns- but there’s a crease between his eyebrows. Maybe those are like wounds, too, they don’t heal they just transfer to another person. Maybe Charlie’s just transferred to him, like his wound had transferred to Lucifer.
Lucifer snorts to himself at his own little joke. The crease deepens.
“You were not at supper last night.” Alastor prompts, finally. Lucifer isn’t quite sure how that’s relevant right now.
“Yeah, and neither were you.” Check and mate. A bit of radio static pierces through the air at his quip. Lucifer smiles to himself, sitting up.
With the knowledge that he’s under scrutiny, he puts more work into affecting his usual trite joviality. Alastor simply raises a brow as he hands him a fork and gestures to the full plate in front of him. Lucifer is shocked still for a moment. Alastor made this food. He made it, and he’s giving some to Lucifer? Of his own volition? Lucifer takes a moment to rack his brain for any side effects of the siphoning that might make him act like this but the only possible explanation is the sheer adrenaline of relief, knowing you’re not dying anymore.
“You made this for me?” Lucifer asks, voice small. He can’t remember the last time someone cooked for him. Hell, he can’t remember the last time he ate anything. He doesn’t need to, not really, but it’s nice when there’s love in it. When someone takes the time to care about him in this way. Lucifer’s never found himself all too worth cooking for, and that’s most of the reason why he didn’t, in all those years spent alone since Charlie and Lilith leaving.
Alastor rolls his eyes.
“Obviously. It would be rude not to indulge, you know. So get to it!” His voice is filled with static, it takes a moment for Lucifer to parse his words. He takes the proffered fork and takes a small bite of the scrambled eggs. Father Almighty. They’re perfectly fluffy, well seasoned and just the right temperature! Lucifer can’t help the pleased sound that escapes him at the taste. He glances up at Alastor to find that his grin has turned smug. Whatever. Lucifer’s not going to lie to him.
“This is really good. Thanks.”
It’s quiet for a moment. Lucifer takes another bite before asking, “Do you want some? I know you haven’t been eating, either, and you probably need it more than me.”
Alastor’s eyes narrow and Lucifer gets the creeping feeling he’s let something slip.
“This is the second time you’ve referenced an invented affliction of mine. I would appreciate if you refrained from now on.” Alastor hisses, the air around the two of them practically sizzles with electricity.
‘Imagined’ hah! He wishes. Lucifer raises an eyebrow, he makes it too easy.
“You’re awful defensive for someone who supposedly didn’t have an affliction.” He drawls. Alastor’s eyes flicker green as he stands, abruptly.
“Put your dish in the washer when you’re done. I will see you another time.” He grits, stalking out of the room. It’s not until he leaves that Lucifer notices that he’d cleaned everything up. The sink is empty and the stove is spick and span. The only dish left is Lucifer’s plate and fork; he’d saved him a portion.
Lucifer does as told and hobbles up to his rooms with a smile on his face and a full stomach. Maybe this whole siphoning thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
***
This siphoning thing was such a fucking bad idea. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.
Lucifer curses to himself as he hobbles to the bathroom situated on the skywalk between his and Alastor’s rooms. His stitches had popped in the middle of one of his unfortunately timed yearly nightmares about falling. So, on top of the popped stitches, he’d scratched his arms bloody, too. Usually when he gets like this he doesn’t bother leaving his room, the cuts will heal themselves as soon as he gets to his door, anyway. But with the extra energy his body is expending on healing the Adam Wound, they just keep bleeding, sluggishly.
It’s been a couple days and the wound has been looking better, but it’s slow going. Lucifer shudders to think what would’ve happened to Alastor if he’d kept trying to live with it. Speaking of Alastor, the bastard’s been making him breakfast every day now; and if Lucifer doesn’t make it down during the hour he spends cooking, he sets aside a portion and puts it in the fridge.
Lucifer doesn’t know if this is his way of being nice, or if he’s luring him in to try and poison him one of these days. Either way, it’s always nice to be cooked for. Poison wouldn’t work on him, anyways.
There’s a pit in his stomach, growling and gnawing for something warm to satiate it- something Alastor-made- as Lucifer bleeds ichor onto the carpet. He pushes the feeling, and the resulting shame, down deep within himself. How low can he get, really? Fuck. Pining for kind gestures from a man who ostensibly wants to kill him? How far can he fucking fall.
The door to the restroom is open when he gets there, which Lucifer is all too thankful for. He pushes, with some effort, into the darkness.
A part of him considers turning on the light, but he has no issues seeing in the dark, and it seems like a lot of work to go through for no reason. With a groan, he bends down to grab the medkit from below the sink, then sits himself on the closed toilet.
With shuddering breaths, he snaps his shaking fingers, doubling over as his night shirt dissipates. “God- fuck!” He sucks a breath through his teeth.
Lucifer stays folded over for a moment, taking the time to breathe once, twice, before unfurling into a now familiar agony.
He grabs a hand towel and shoves it between his teeth to muffle any unwitting noises he might make- he’d found out the hard way that he’s a screamer a long time ago- and threads the suture needle with dental floss. He ran out of actual suture thread yesterday and, not wanting to alarm Charlie or let anything slip, hadn’t asked where he could find more. Dental floss has worked before, and it’ll work now. It just won’t be as pretty as it usually is.
Lucifer has just begun stitching himself up- letting little whines and whimpers into the hand towel tightly clenched between his teeth with each tug of the floss- when the door to the bathroom bursts open and a humming Alastor strides through the threshold. He flicks on the light- though Lucifer’s unsure why, as he doesn’t need it to see, either- and immediately makes eye contact with Lucifer. Then the hand towel clamped in his teeth. Then the giant bleeding wound on his chest. Then the eight golden scores in his arms.
His eyes widen a fraction, then narrow into a glare.
He strides up to Lucifer and grabs at his jaw, but the hold is surprisingly gentle. Alastor runs a finger along the area until it loosens enough for him to wrestle the towel from his lips.
Lucifer’s not sure if he should feel threatened or not. It’s not like Alastor can do anything to him. Not anything he hasn’t felt before, at least.
Why is the steel in his eyes so terrifying, then, though?
“Explain.”
Alastor says the word quietly, but somehow his voice seems to echo in the room. Lucifer sits tall, unwilling to be made ashamed of what he’s done. What he’s tried to do, to help.
“You never would have let me close enough to heal you through touch. You know that. And Charlie would have been devastated if you died because you were too much of an uptight prick to let other people care about you. This was the only way. I’ll heal. You wouldn’t.”
Lucifer’s voice is raspy, a little hoarse from the agony of the night. He has to clear his throat a few times during the monologue. Alastor stares at him through the entire thing, eyes burning against the side of his face. It’s silent for a while and Lucifer is acutely aware of the fact that he’s still bleeding.
“Now if you don’t mind, I have sutures to-” Alastor cuts him off with a vague scratch of radio static, “Give me the needle.”
Lucifer hesitates, so he repeats himself, enunciating each word.
“Give. Me. The. Needle.”
Lucifer does. He’s nervous for a moment- god knows why- but it’s like he’s been telling himself: Alastor physically can’t do anything to him that hasn’t already been done. He’ll be fine. Alastor pulls a stool from thin air and settles himself next to Lucifer.
He expects a sharp, focused pain. Tiny cruel little stabs done in excess to teach him a lesson about doing Alastor ‘favors’. But Alastor’s hands are warm and gentle against the golden shreds of his midsection. Each suture is measured and careful, he moves slowly through the motions and keeps a steadying hand against Lucifer’s side as he works. He does not look at him, though, entirely focused on the task at hand.
The gentleness is off-putting, and it makes something flighty bang around in Lucifer’s chest. He suddenly feels the urgent need to apologize.
“I’m sorry, Alastor. I should’ve asked but I was afraid it would take too long. I’m surprised you’re still alive now given the state the wound was in when I first transferred it.” Lucifer chuckles. Alastor does not join him. He babbles on.
“I don’t regret it, though. And I’d do it again if I needed to. I mean have you seen Charlie lately? She’s got the pep back in her step! And you, you’re up and cooking again. Everyone’s so happy you’re back in the apron.”
Alastor hums, finishing up the sutures on his chest and immediately moving to the deepest gashes on his arms. Lucifer is just about to protest- really, those ones will heal soon enough, they don’t need anything- when Alastor speaks.
“What about you?”
Lucifer cocks his head. Huh?
“What about me?” He asks.
Alastor chuckles, pressing some antiseptic into a different hand towel than the one Lucifer had been biting on and passing it over the- now sewn- cuts on his forearm. The sting barely registers. It’s so needless. It’s so wasteful.
“You speak of all of these benefits but I fail to see how any of them pertain to you. Aside from your obvious need for your daughter’s approval, of course.” He says.
That stings a little, which is strange because none of it is untrue. Of course he wants Charlie’s approval; it’s the fucking least he could do after everything he’s made her face alone.
Lucifer shrugs, pushing Alastor’s hands away when they try to tend to his other arm.
“What’s it matter? I don’t need the benefits to ‘pertain to me’, I don’t do anything for these people,” he spreads his arms around to emphasize his point, “not like you or Charlie do. Besides, I’ve been selfish enough already, don’t you think?” The gesture he makes this time is similar to before, but he points through the restroom door to the window that lines the skywalk. Moreso conveying the idea ‘see what my selfishness has already culminated into? Eternal damnation for millions of souls’. Alastor raises an eyebrow.
“And what would your daughter think of this… philosophy of yours?” His voice is low, and he reaches out to grab Lucifer’s arm back into his own grip. Still gentle, but firmer than before. Lucifer doesn’t fight him on it and his eyes light up at the success. That’s… oddly endearing for a murderer-cannibal.
Lucifer shrugs once more. He doesn’t really see the point Alastor is trying to make, he’s thought this through. He knows what he’s doing.
“Doesn’t really matter, does it? She’s never going to know and we’re going to keep it that way. She’s got a bleeding heart, probably got it from her old man,” Lucifer chuckles self-depreciatingly, “it wouldn’t do her any good.”
Alastor finishes with the last bandage- more unnecessary, needless waste on wounds that will heal tomorrow- and runs the antiseptic towel under warm water before wiping Lucifer clean of his own blood. His touch is just as light as it was before, it’s driving Lucifer insane. Why won’t he just hurt him already. He knows he’s itching for it.
“You are not what I thought you would be.” Alastor says, finally, tossing the towel into the laundry basket in the corner of the room. His eyes raise, finally, to meet Lucifer’s own shocked gaze. He can’t muster up a response; what is he supposed to say to that? Is it a good thing? Probably not. A bad thing? Well, then he doesn’t need more fuel for his ‘bad thoughts’ journal.
Thankfully, Alastor continues, “Next time, simply come talk to me. I don’t want this to happen again.” He stands, brushing imaginary dust off of his overcoat- which, now that Lucifer is paying attention, why is he still in his overcoat at three in the morning?
Lucifer snaps his fingers- now embarrassed by his own state of undress and reinvigorated by the tender touches- and rematerializes his nightshirt. Alastor levels him with a disapproving glare when he reels from the exertion.
“Now why did you go and do that? I could have gotten you a shirt, and then you wouldn’t be dizzy. Pity you’re so stubborn.” He comments, with just the slightest tinge of frustration. It thrills something in Lucifer to be able to get that reaction out of him, even in this diminished state.
“Yeah. Pity. Look, I’m not going to promise you this won’t happen again. I’m going to do what’s best for Charlie and this hotel, always.” Lucifer’s voice breaks a little at the latter end of the sentence, he can’t bring himself to meet Alastor’s eyes.
There’s silence for a moment, then a clawed finger flicks delicately at his chin, tilting his head up. Alastor sighs when he keeps his gaze low.
“Stubborn. I am not asking you not to do it- you were right, I probably wouldn’t have gone for the touch healing- I am asking you to do me the courtesy of checking first, before you act. Is that clear?”
Lucifer mulls over the words for a moment, considering his options. All in all it’s not a bad deal, and if this experience has taught him anything it’s that it’s nice to have someone in your corner, willing to help if you let them in. Charlie is in his corner, but she’s also his daughter, and it will never be her job to help him with anything for as long as he is alive. Alastor’s offering.
Lucifer nods, hesitantly.
“I can do that. Thanks.”
Alastor shakes his head before turning towards the door.
“Put some of the green tube on your chest wound every night before bed. If your arms don’t heal by tomorrow, add some there too. Don’t exert yourself. I’ll know if you pop your stitches again.”
And with that laundry list of care, he disappears into the night. Lucifer looks at the stitching on his chest, wondering if he was being serious, or if he was just bluffing about knowing.
Three cross stitches glow a neon green right next to each other in the middle of his chest “X X X”.
Ah, so that’s how. Sneaky bastard.
Still, though, Lucifer smiles all the way back to his room, and if he notices a shadow tailing him on his way there, he doesn’t say anything about it.
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PLEASE TELL ME ABOUT THE HANAHAKI AU YESSHSHDHDJ !!!!!! hanahaki isnt my favorite either but it could be so cool with them...
i just love how hikaru and kaoru love each other. they're so closely bonded that they'll simply never love anyone else quite like they love each other, they'll never bond with anyone else like they have with each other. they're irreplaceable in each other's lives Because of the complexity of their relationship (reason #9394823 why scenarios with one of them dying CRUSHES me). theyre so soft,, love them
AND of course, tamahikakao. them
they're just all soft idiots so that ship is so cute,,, they're all sweet and passionate and kinda stupid about love, so they're just a big mess of affection and care. and they make a Lot of well-meaning mistakes, but they learn from each other and they grow together. they are just.. love them. idk i need to think of some cute scenarios for them bc i love that ship
YEAH REAL DUDE... Tamahikakao is so sweet. I need to think of scenarios too... I have a small one where in middle school after their first club meeting (where it's just tamaki teaching the other hosts on their new job) and after answering one of kaoru's questions he pats him on the head and it makes Kaoru very flustered and Hikaru gets slightly jealous like "why didn't he do that to ME" but he would never admit it.
BUT...The hanahaki AU....The long awaited hanahaki au....Like I said it's very strange bc I'm not a huge hanahaki enjoyer myself nor do I tend to go for overtly romantic hikakao but...the idea struck and I. cannot get rid of it so. In lieu of writing the full multi chapter fic it probably could be. I have written a small ""short"" & informal story so.
I'm so so fuckin sorry this took so long (hope you're still sticking around despite this took forever) even more sorry that it probably isn't amazing and maybe a little ooc at times but.......i tried? :'D
Ahem. i will not prolong this any further. let's fuckin go.
---
It starts with a small cough.
Which, you know. Besides being a small annoyance, it isn't anything to write home about. At this point, Kaoru has been dealing with an odd tickling sensation in his chest for the past few days, so the fact he's finally coughing only seemed like the natural conclusion. Probably coming down with a cold, he figures.
Really, it isn't much of a worry.
Sincerely! It isn't anything to get up in arms about. Even if he finds it odd that he seems to be sick but Hikaru isn't, when they typically both get sick together due to their close proximity. It's equally weird that his cough worsens when he catches himself thinking about his brother, which isn't uncommon. Most thoughts, however, are obscured, perhaps deliberate. There's something about Hikaru that Kaoru can't seem to be honest with himself about, and now his body seems to even reject the notion. However, both inconsistencies could be reasoned away though—Kaoru just happened to get sick and Hikaru hadn't, and this weird emotional distress is triggering a negative response from his cold. Both sounded reasonable in his head, and really, why was he overthinking such a simple thing?
Well, probably because he's basically the king of overthinking. I mean, come on, this is Kaoru Hitachiin we're talking about. Mr. Cinderella carriage metaphors in place of real dialogue. It's not like he has hypochondria or anything, he just tends to worry a lot. Maybe he should get that checked out.
And while he's at it maybe he should get this cough checked out, because it's starting to get painful.
Hikaru being Hikaru worries about his little brother, asking if he's coming down with something, asking how Kaoru feels. Kaoru, of course, waves him off. His concern is sweet—it makes his heart swell—which only makes the itch in his chest worse. He reassures his brother it's a minor cold and nothing more.
And, like, he truly believed that. It's not like he was being willfully ignorant. But the one day Hikaru isn't there, Kaoru's in their room alone, and he misses his brother and chastises himself for missing somebody he basically sees 24/7 already, he spirals into a coughing fit—a pretty painful one at that, and after he opens his eyes (which he had shut due to the sheer force of the fit) he sees...a petal.
A. Petal.
Yeah uh what?
Of course, naturally his first reactions are "am I hallucinating" and "This petal was already here, right?" because, because, WELL. The other explanation would be that...it came out of him. His mouth. And Kaoru isn't routinely going around and eating flowers, so that can't be it...
Can it?
It's silly, it's stupid, it's illogical, but all the same he Googles it. In English, mind you! If he Googled this in Japanese and Hikaru saw it, he would never hear the end of it. Suddenly, Hikaru would believe his brother had some sort of mental disease and Kaoru didn't want to deal with that can of worms. Besides, what could even come from this? He treated it as a joke, a non-serious inquiry, if only because anything more would send him into a spiral of panic.
(Seriously, coughing up petals? That's...not humanly possible. Right?)
Well, according to Google: It is! And he's getting a lot of results around a seemingly Japanese in origin name, so it looks like he has to Google in Japanese anyways.
Hanahaki disease, it's called (real clever name), caused when a person is experiencing unrequited love (huh?), it's a very rare disease (oh, lucky me), and if left untreated, it's fatal.
(Uh, come again?)
Just seeing the words on the screen makes Kaoru's veins filter with ice. He reads it over once, twice, up to five times. He keeps reading.
Something something seeds growing in the lungs. Something something lungs eventually fill with flowers, causing suffocation. Victims cough up nothing, then petals, then finally whole flowers, at which point the condition, even if love is requited, may be too advanced to stop.
There's no "cure" except for returned love, and if that doesn't happen, you can say goodbye in the next six months.
Kaoru quietly closes his laptop.
...
Okay. So Maybe he's in denial. But can you seriously blame him!? He's suddenly suffering from some weird disease that makes him cough up flowers and he's supposed to die from it! Up until yesterday he had no clue such a thing existed, and now you're telling him he has this one-in-million disease? Of course he's skeptical!
There's also that second part—the whole "unrequited love" thing. This is equally as confusing to Kaoru, because...he's...not in love? He doesn't think, at least? That's the sort of thing you'd know, right? So this couldn't be that. Whatever he's sick with, it isn't this "hanahaki" or whatever. He's not in love. He's not.
(But there's a feeling in his chest that assures him he's lying to himself, and he knows it.)
He heads off to bed that night thinking it all a hallucination or a nightmare or, or something...anything but whatever the internet tells him. (People lie on there for fun, right? This is all some huge in-joke he's not getting, surely)
But then the next morning comes and he's waking up, warm sunlight bathing him and his brother. They have to get ready for school here soon (maybe that will take his mind off this whole mess), but Kaoru doesn't want to wake Hikaru up. He loathes to admit it, but he has a small (small!) habit of staring at his brother for a bit before waking him up. It's not his fault, Hikaru is just really cute when he's peacefully resting like he is now. And while you may find that naraccasstic given they're identical twins, Kaoru personally thinks he looks nothing like Hikaru when he's asleep. Granted, he has no clue what he looks like when he's asleep, but...
Yeah, well, anyways—he observes Hikaru, his face half-obscured by the pillow he's snoring into, hair mused and sticking out every which way. The morning sun burns into it, causing it to reflect a golden hue. He looks silly, but it never fails to utterly captivate Kaoru. He hates, he really does, but he keeps telling himself it's not his fault.
Wait—what's he getting all self-deprecatory for? There was nothing wrong in thinking Hikaru was cute. He doesn't need to be guilty. Family members find each other cute all the time, the same way people see their pets as cute. It's innocent. It's innocent.
The aggressive excuses in Kaoru's head are making his stomach fill up with dread and making his chest itch again, and so as to not wake up Hikaru, he goes to the bathroom and succumbs to yet another coughing fit.
And you know before how I said it was just a minor itch? Now it's not so much that. It's...kind of getting painful. Not by much, but enough that it makes Kaoru cringe slightly. And suddenly, he's tasting something weird and silky on his tongue, and he spits out...a petal.
Oh. Fuck.
Okay, well, nightmare theory is out the door. Jury is still out on the hallucination one though.
Despite his best efforts, Hikaru seems to have been woken by the sound of Kaoru coughing and is knocking on the bathroom door, asking if he's okay.
Kaoru looks down at the petal now in his hand. He throws it in the toilet and flushes.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he calls back.
...
So there's no cure, huh? That's what the internet is telling him, both English and Japanese sides.
He did find something about possible surgeries, but they seem to only be theoretical. Not only are they impractical and dangerous (something about the seed of which the disease sprouts from in the lungs being located in an undesirable place), it doesn't cure the illness. Just slows it down temporarily. Remove the seed, and it'll just grow back. And besides, what doctor is even qualified to provide the surgery?
So, fan-fucking-tastic.
Some other fun facts he found out:
The disease is rare and is theorized to be caused by specific genetics or highly specific emotions, namely ones of guilt or fear regarding a love interesting
Yes, it is always about a love interest
Was first discovered in Japan (duh)
Life expectancy during first onset is anywhere between three months to a year, average six months
So, that's great. Now on top of all his usual anxiety, our boy here has to worry about his mortality. Furthermore, it's not something he can readily solve because he has no clue who the hell he's supposedly in love with! The articles say shit about the victim suffering from guilt or fear or repression when it comes to their love, but genuinely, Kaoru can't think of anyone he's in love with. Haruhi? Sure, she's cute, but...he's not in love with her. Tamaki? Well, yeah, he had a bit of a crush on him in middle school, but nowadays he sees him as just a really good friend, if not an attractive one. He can't think of somebody he wants to be romantically involved with.
Worse yet, he can't be inconspicuous about it because he's coughing all. the. time. It's not even third period yet and his classmates are throwing nasty looks at him for hacking into his inner elbow and, during his next coughing fit, the teacher flat out asks him to step outside. So Kaoru does.
Well, not before Hikaru gets up too and says, "I'm going with him."
Nobody stops him because, well, that's to be expected right? They're twins. They're almost always together. So, the teacher doesn't stop him as he steps outside with his brother.
As soon as they're out of the classroom and the door is shut, Kaoru begins coughing and Hikaru stares in a mixture of worry and confusion.
He tells him, of course, "You've been coughing like that for the past three days."
Kaoru just grunts, trying to catch his breath still. He doesn't rise to the unspoken question.
"Is it just a really bad cold? You're not sneezing or anything."
"Maybe it's allergies," Kaoru weakly lies.
"In...Autumn?" The confusion is replaced with something more serious. "I think we need to take you to a doctor."
"It's fine, Hikaru. Really."
I mean, he's really not fine, but what the fuck else can he say? He's coughing up goddamn petals, he's dying, and he has no clue who he's in love with that's supposedly causing it. What good can a doctor do in this situation? Medically diagnose him as fucked?
Hikaru looks conflicted but seems to ultimately accept it on virtue that Kaoru looks reluctant. "Okay, but if it doesn't go away, I'm dragging you there myself."
It's stern, but Hikaru manages to quirk a small smile and Kaoru smiles a bit in return. He doesn't like the fact it makes his chest ache.
...
A week later (and yes, he's still coughing—he's just decided to hide it now so Hikaru doesn't notice) and no progress has been made. He's still at a loss for what to do and the clock is ticking.
Six months! Maybe only three! Yeah, okay, sure, sometimes he has some...less than favorable ideas about his own life, every teenager gets into those slumps, right? But he doesn't want to die, at least not like this! And now that it's starting to set in, Kaoru is panicking, and panic makes his chest hurt more.
In the midst of this panic is Hikaru and Haruhi. They're in his class of course, and as he silently fears for his life he's watching them have some sort of benign and silly conversation. He's not listening, but Haruhi is smiling and Hikaru is laughing, and that's, well, great. It makes him happy that Hikaru finally has a friend other than himself. It also makes him extremely jealous.
No, not because Hikaru is talking to Haruhi. He's not jealous because he wants to talk to Haruhi, although he does like her quite a bit. It's actually the other way around. He's a bit jealous that Haruhi is able to make Hikaru laugh so easily, that there's somebody else out there that Hikaru can so easily connect with. It's fucked up and horrible, Kaoru knows, and he feels awful for it. Hikaru needs other friends. He needs to be his own person. But Kaoru finds it so hard to let go, so hard to let go of his amazing big brother. It scares him. It scares him to think he may be replaced, that he may not be needed anymore, that Hikaru likes Haruhi more than him.
And the thing is, maybe he does. Hikaru may be in love with Haruhi. Kaoru probably would be too, he just...isn't for some reason. He likes Haruhi a whole lot, but he can't see her past a best friend. But maybe it's different for Hikaru. Maybe he loves her. And that's great, Kaoru tells himself, keeps telling himself. Hikaru should find somebody he can relate to, that he can love. Kaoru can't be everything for Hikaru. Not now, and not forever.
If Hikaru is in love with Haruhi, that's great.
It also makes him very, very jealous.
And that seething jealousy, no matter how much he tries to push it down or shame himself into forgetting it, rears its ugly head and he suddenly excuses himself to go to the bathroom because the pressure in his chest is building up and he needs to get it out.
This time when he coughs it's violent. A lot more than before, at least. Again, it hurts; his chest, his throat—everything hurts. And after hacking so hard he was afraid he was going to throw up, he manages to catch his breath in strained gulps and look down in the sink, and there's not only three petals this time, but small, watery specks of blood.
It hits Kaoru like a truck, all at once.
He knows who he's in love with.
...
So there's this internet meme, right. Some Western meme he saw on English Twitter. A little dog sitting in a chair inside a burning house, proclaiming, "This is fine."
That's how Kaoru feels for lack of a better metaphor.
Maybe he should be pumping his fists in celebration over the fact he knows who he's in love with, giving him a fighting chance to beat this disease. But, uh, no. Not when it turns out the person he loves is his own twin fucking brother.
It's awful. It's awful! And he can't stop realizing the meaning behind all his unconscious actions and feelings and suddenly everything makes so much sense because Oh My God I'm In Love With My Own Brother (<- This should be a title for some depraved anime).
Anyways, it's fucked up on every conceivable level, but it's also fucked because there's no way Kaoru is letting this out. Nuh-uh. He would rather die before telling Hikaru he's in love with him and effectively destroying both their lives and he will die before that happens.
Because nothing good will happen if he tells the truth. If Hikaru rejects him? Everything between them becomes awkward and he dies anyways. If Hikaru accepts? Sure, he lives, only to be consumed by guilt knowing he's ruined Hikaru's life. They'll be closer than ever, which would ruin their chances at becoming independent; plus, Hikaru wouldn't have a chance to live a normal life with a normal wife, stuck dating his own brother. Even if that's what Hikaru wants, it's not right. He deserves better, even if he can't see it right now.
Besides, Kaoru is 85% sure Hikaru is in love with Haruhi, so the chances of it working out are none. Guess he just has to accept the inevitable.
The inevitable being...he's going to die.
He's going to die.
...
He's going to die.
That's the only thing Kaoru can think for the rest of the day. And the day after that, and after that, and that...
It's not really something that leaves you. It's not like a horror movie that spooks you, gives you a nightmare, but eventually recedes because, well, it's simply not pertinent to your life anymore. It's just a movie. A one-and-done deal. Time moves on, other things present themselves, demanding your attention, and you forget all about it.
But this isn't that.
And, like, do I even have to spell out to you why? This isn't some casual nightmare you just brush off. This is— fuck dude, he's going to DIE. He's going to die one day soon and there's nothing he can do to change it. Everyday he's forced to recognize he's a step closer to the end, a rapidly approaching end. He's going to die before he gets to graduate highschool. He's going to die before he gets to his sophomore year. He's going to die not knowing a life beyond being a stupid child in highschool.
He's going to die all because he fell in love with his own brother. Does he deserve it? He isn't sure. He just feels bad. More so for Hikaru than himself. He's going to have to leave his dear brother behind literally because he loved him too much. And that hurts to know.
At first, like anybody, once the denial washed away he was faced with an intense depression and sadness. He doesn't want to die, not yet, at least not like this, not without his own saying in it, but he has no choice. And if he cried himself to sleep once or twice because of how utterly scared and alone he felt, Hikaru already asleep and unable to hear his pitifully hidden sobs, well. That's between him and the man upstairs.
For a split moment he wonders if he should quit the host club. When people know they're going to die, they usually spend their last months alive doing everything they've ever wanted, right? Maybe Kaoru should quit school to travel the world and eat all kinds of food and binge watch all the movies he never had a chance to. But the issue is, he'd have to tell his parents what was going on to have permission to do all these things, and so...he really couldn't. He didn't want anyone to know. Because what use was it? They'd surely ask who the person he was in love with was, and then what? He can't so easily admit to it, not to his parents and certainly not Hikaru. It's not like Hikaru would even love him back that way. He shouldn't. Even if he did, Kaoru won't allow it; he won't allow Hikaru to throw away his life just to keep Kaoru alive.
So, instead of wasting his last months alive moping around in self-pity and fear, he's decided he's going to live it up. Try to make the most of it all. Appreciate what he has before it goes.
It'll never feel like he has enough time, though.
...
Being rich AND having neglectful parents has its perks. That being: they can do whatever they want whenever they want and nobody can tell them no.
And in the three months that has passed (he hasn't died yet woohoo!) Kaoru's made considerable progress on his bucket list:
Watch EVERY live action Cinderella film (he's always wanted the bragging rights)
Learn Russian (in progress)
Kiss Tamaki (he's always wanted to try JUST once) (it was very funny)
Shoplift (What? Life is about adventure!)
Learn to parachute
Learn to cook
Publish a poetry book
Trespass on private property (Adventure!!)
Voice act in an anime
Forge a katana
Learn karate
Really, only a few items remained, though these were only the whims of him now as a teenager, and had he lived longer he was sure he'd have more exciting things in his life he'd want to do...
But, whatever. Really. It's whatever. It's just life. He's forced himself not to be sad about this anymore because being sad was a waste of time in his already short life span. He needed to spend it being as happy as possible, because he wouldn't get another chance.
And Hikaru? Well, he was none the wiser of course. His brother's sudden adventures and busybody turn was unexpected but not unwelcome. Because Hikaru, of course, joined him on almost every one of these missions. It made Kaoru happy. He's doing everything he's ever wanted with the person he loves, even if he can't "have" him that way. But this was almost just as good. Almost.
Too bad it's not enough to save his life.
...
Actually, why DOES he love Hikaru?
Yeah, you'd think Kaoru would be asking himself this the moment he came to the realization, but it's taken this long for him to wonder what it is about Hikaru that's got him so...smitten. Like, that's his brother. He shouldn't be in love with him, so why?
Well...Kaoru himself wasn't sure. They were always close as brothers, this much is true. And it wasn't like they didn't already do a bunch of things couples did, like the occasional kiss on the cheek and even sleeping together. Why did Kaoru want more? What made him feel more?
Maybe it's just some sick cosmic joke, making him fall in love with his identical brother. Maybe it's only natural. Hikaru is the one person he's this close to; the one person who makes him laugh this much, makes him this comfortable, understands him. They already kiss, hold hands; maybe it's just natural he wants that status. It's natural he'd end up falling in love. And the host club act, as fake and cheesy as it is, probably doesn't help with this mentality.
Hikaru was everything Kaoru wasn't and Kaoru loved that about him. Hikaru was so unique, such a radiant individual. He has something nobody else could ever give Kaoru, such a unique and close bond that nobody else would ever understand. It's deranged, it's co-dependent and it's sick, but Kaoru can't help it. He really does love Hikaru.
Thinking so deeply about such things was probably a bad idea, and maybe distracting himself with tasks was how he's lived as long as he has. Or maybe it has nothing to do with that and it's all up for luck anyways. Be that as it may, Kaoru's chest is tightening, it burns, and he quickly excuses himself from where he sits at a table in the host club to go to the bathroom.
He's been hiding it—has been for months—but of course it's impossible to hide every little coughing fit from Hikaru. At least they're "infrequent" enough to not warrant serious investigation.
However, what isn't infrequent and hasn't been for months now is his constant mumbled excuses to leave rooms, typically to go to the bathroom, which he can tell is starting to make Hikaru a liiiittle suspicious.
(Every time it's "Is something wrong?" or "Are you okay?" and Kaoru says "No" or "I'm fine" and it's dropped until the next time it happens)
Anyways, what I'm getting at here is Kaoru probably should have seen this coming sooner or later where Hikaru, unannounced, follows him into the public bathroom a minute later, but it's not like he can just stop himself from hacking his lungs up so he just lets it be.
Luckily, he's in a bathroom stall, because (unluckily) the coughing has gotten to a point where it's really painful and violent and forceful that he sometimes gags. Also, it's easier to flush the evidence down the toilet than throw it in a trash can.
Unluckily(x2), this means it's really obvious something is not right with him if he's coughing so hard he's retching and Hikaru can clearly hear that. Luckily(?) his brother would assume literally anything else other than what's really wrong with him, because "are you coughing up flowers" is not a person's normal go-to.
So naturally, his brother's first panicked response outside the stall door is "Are you sick, Kaoru?"
Kaoru can't answer because he can barely catch his breath, and so Hikaru makes the decision to just crawl under the locked stall door so he could make sure his brother was okay.
"Kaoru," he murmurs, and Kaoru can't see his face but he probably looks very worried.
Kaoru croaks a "'m fine" through the urge to begin coughing again.
"You're not," Hikaru decisively announces (way to go, Sherlock Holmes). "Do you have a fever? Do you need a doctor?"
"It's not that serious," Kaoru pleads. And he tries really, really fucking hard not to start coughing, but when it feels like he can't breathe, he sputters and wheezes and he's sent into another fit.
And unluckily (x3 combo) there's no way he can escape this without making Hikaru morbidly worried about him. But on the flip side, he can at least obscure his view by leaning in closer to the toilet. Because if Hikaru sees petals come out of him, well...that would ruin his whole "hiding it" thing.
So he hacks so hard he retches and Hikaru probably thinks he's throwing up and honestly that's a much better thing for Hikaru to think because at least that way he doesn't need to know he's dying. He's shaking from exertion and sweating from the overwhelming pain shooting through his throat and chest until finally he can spit out what appears to be a half-formed flower. No longer just petals, not even a significant group, but and actual flower formation, nearly complete. The realization turns Kaoru blood into ice, and he quickly flushes the toilet and keeps his head down so Hikaru doesn't see.
His brother is rubbing his back, and at least that feels nice against how rigid and cold he is right now.
"Feeling better?" Hikaru asks sympathetically.
Everything from his hands to his breathing to his whole body is shaky, and he's sure there's tears in his eyes—whether from exertion or fear at this point, he has no clue. All he can do is rasp out, "Yeah."
"That's good." Still with a worried expression, he pulls Kaoru closer to him. "I really think we need to get you to a doctor."
"I'm fine now," Kaoru lies, but his voice is utterly spent and overall exhausted.
"I'm just worried. What if it's the flu? Or food poisoning?"
"It's not."
"How do you know?"
"Um." Kaoru of course quickly bullshits his way through with, "I think I would know. I feel better now, anyways."
And he does. The painful, excruciating burn in his chest and throat are gone, leaving him simply exhausted and hoarse. So, it's fine, all fine, and he reassures Hikaru such.
Until it happens again later that night.
And then Hikaru is dragging him to the emergency room.
...
WELL if you want me to be more specific, Hikaru shoved him in a car against his will and made their chauffeurs drive them to their private hospitals. It's actually the Ootori group, funny thing that is.
Wait, no, it's not funny, because he's freaking out.
Kaoru's all, "Hikaru, I'm fine" and "I don't need to go to the hospital."
Hikaru must have mistaken this clear reluctance for a fear of hospitals, because he softly assures him everything will be alright, nothing scary will happen, they just need to get him better because he's clearly very ill.
Yeah, he is ill, but nobody is supposed to know! He doesn't want anyone to know!
At the very least the doctor visit is private. Hikaru fights tooth and nail to be in the examination room with Kaoru but gives up the instant Kaoru himself requests he be alone, and so he resigns himself to the waiting room.
Kaoru is honest least of all to the doctor, whom he tries to reassure that he's not sick, not seriously, that he just wasn't feeling too well today, it'll go away tomorrow.
Maybe a commoner doctor would take his word for it, do the bare minimum, and let him go. Not an Ootori group doctor though. These bitches wouldn't be happy if Kaoru's cells themselves told the doctors he was fine, and so they run, like, a million tests. It's the x-ray one that freaks Kaoru out the most; he hopes the machine won't pick up on the literal flowers growing in his lungs.
Well, it seems his luck has decided to take a vacation. On a related note, hearing your doctor whisper "what the fuck" is never a reassuring sign.
"Excuse me," the doctor says, "I'll be right back. I need to retrieve a colleague."
And then he's alone. For like, ten minutes.
Those ten minutes are honestly spent in some sort of mental limbo. It isn't until the doctor returns with some random woman—the presumed "colleague"—and they mumble secretively about some shit for about five minutes before the doctor breaks the news to him. News Kaoru was already aware of.
He suggests informing his parents. Kaoru (politely) tells him where he can shove it. The doctor drops that line of conversation. With no cure, all he can offer are condolences and discharge papers detailing the diagnosis. Kaoru takes them, not even giving them a glance.
When he leaves, Hikaru looks up at him with wide eyes.
"Well?"
And Kaoru lies.
"Minor food poisoning."
"See!" Hikaru jumps out of his seat, equal parts worried but self-satisfied in his correct guess, blending together in an unlikely mix. "I told you!"
"Yeah, well, I'll be fine. Doctor said it wasn't anything serious."
Perhaps it was the way Kaoru didn't even humor Hikaru, failing to rise to his half-taunt. Maybe it was his flat and detached tone. Maybe it was the fact he was gripping the papers with more vigor than necessary. Because Hikaru's half-smile fell and his eyes drew to the sheets of paper.
"What's that?"
"Nothing, really. Just discharge papers."
His voice imparts the unspoken conclusion of "it's boring", and yet Hikaru's eyes gleam in such a way that makes Kaoru uneasy; he's scheming something—thinking, at the very least—and Kaoru doesn't know what.
Hikaru accepts his word without argument.
...
...For about forty minutes.
True, he was unassuming the whole ride home and some thereafter, but when Kaoru's first course of action upon arriving home was to visit the basement to access the incinerator, it should have probably occurred to him Hikaru was going to sneak along too.
He only finds out because his brother is a jackass and says right behind him, "Seems kind of excessive if you ask me" which scares the daylights out of Kaoru. He probably jumped like FIVE feet in the air or some shit.
"Hikaru, you dick!"
"What? You started being sneaky first," as if it absolves him personally. He quickly cuts to the chase though. "You're burning those?"
Kaoru glances down at the papers in his hands. He nods a little too quickly.
"Yeah. They're useless, anyways."
Kaoru doesn't even have a chance to reach for the incinerator door before Hikaru is pulling some ninja-like maneuver and stealing the sheets right out of his hands.
And when I say pure, icy cold dread shoots through Kaoru's veins, I mean it.
"Hikaru! Give those back!"
He goes to swipe them back but Hikaru jolts backwards, holding his free hand out. "What's the big deal? They're useless, aren't they?"
There's an inkling of suspicion in his voice and the challenge is clear. Kaoru halts and swallows hard.
"Come on, Hikaru. It's nothing."
"If it was nothing, you wouldn't be acting so weird."
It's silent, the accompanying "I don't trust you", but it rings out and stings Kaoru all the same.
All Kaoru can mumble is, "It's nothing."
"Then me reading it shouldn't be a problem."
"Hikaru," Kaoru almost begs.
The voice almost, almost gets Hikaru to stop. Certainly he hesitates. But he shakes his head.
"Will you tell me yourself then?"
Kaoru is silent. Hikaru clicks his tongue.
"Fine," he settles, and his eyes are drawn to the papers instead.
Kaoru really, really wants to scream at him. Maybe if he's really fast, he could blindside Hikaru and rip the papers out of his hands. But...would it really matter? Hikaru's caught on and there's no way he'll let it go. Even if Kaoru manages to destroy the evidence now, that'll only make his brother more suspicious. Defeated, all he can do is stare as Hikaru's expression while reading goes from confused to shocked to horrified in a matter of seconds.
And when their eyes meet again, it's silent. Silent, until Hikaru speaks. It's barely a murmur.
"You're dying."
Kaoru doesn't respond. He doesn't think he can.
"You're dying," Hikaru continues, voice beginning to tremble, "and you tried to hide it from me."
That part does make guilt grip his chest. "H-Hikaru—"
"You've been lying to me. You've— this whole time, you knew, didn't you?" his voice is rising to something angry, explosive, and terrified. "That's why—that's why you've been doing crazy fucking things. Living your life everyday like you're going to die the next. Because you—you are! You're fucking dying and you didn't tell me!"
Kaoru gulps. "I-I'm sorry."
Although, Hikaru barely acknowledges that. He drops the papers, lets them scatter on the ground. They're barely an afterthought as his brother grabs him by the shoulders, snarling "Who."
It's not like Kaoru doesn't know what he means. He does. He just doesn't answer. Not in the first second, not in five, or ten.
Louder, angrier, Hikaru demands, "Who is it!? Who are you in love with, Kaoru!?"
Kaoru looks down steadily.
"Is it Haruhi?" he asks firmly. "Tamaki-senpai? Hani-senpai? Kaoru, I don't care who it is, I'm not letting you— you're not dying."
Kaoru shakes his head weakly. He really, really wants to cry.
Instead, he croaks, "I can't tell you."
Hikaru is almost physically taken aback by the statement. The idea that Kaoru would go through such lengths to conceal the truth even at the cost of his own life is throwing him clearly for a loop. "What the fuck do you mean you can't tell me!? You'll die, Kaoru!"
The grip on his shoulders hurt, but he's too scared to tell Hikaru to let go, not when he's like this.
"I don't fucking care who it is, I'll do everything to make them fall in love with you too. I'm not letting you die. I don't care." his voice begins to tremble again, and Kaoru realizes that it had never actually gone away. "I don't fucking care if it's a goddamn child. I'm not letting you die."
"Hikaru," Kaoru gasps. "That's awful."
"Not as awful as losing you." So again, voice trembling, he demands, "Who is it?"
Kaoru feels so small, so awful for keeping the truth locked away. In lieu of a real response, he asks, "Is it really worth ruining somebody's life just to keep me alive?"
And it's startling without pause Hikaru replies, "Yes."
"Hikaru," Kaoru shakes his head, "I can't."
The utter defeat in his gaze and tone makes Hikaru stop. He lets go only to suddenly yell some angry nonsense before exiting the room. And Kaoru—he'd call Hikaru a petulant child if it wasn't for the fact his reaction was pretty understandable.
He didn't run after Hikaru. There wasn't any point to it. And so, stiff with shock, he picked up the scattered papers one by one off the floor and watched them go up in flames in the incinerator.
He felt nothing as he saw the last words "projected life expectancy: 3-5 weeks" be consumed by the flames.
...
The thing with Hikaru and Kaoru regarding their fights is that they don't last very long. At maximum, legitimate fights last for a full day. Usually they're forgiven at around evening; they kiss and make-up, blah blah blah, happily ever after.
Anyways, it's no surprise then that this fight lasted all of twenty minutes. Kaoru had retired to their bedroom to lie in bed, never actually falling asleep, and Hikaru came to join him, silently crawling into the space next to him. While firmly clinging to him, Hikaru mumbles an apology and Kaoru mumbles one back, and then they're relegated once more to a somber silence. One full of thought and realization, and it isn't until ten minutes later that the silence is broken.
"You're dying."
It's Hikaru who finally whispers it, mortified. It's shock-like, as if the reality is finally setting in. Again, he repeats, "you're dying."
Kaoru stays silent because there's nothing to say. You know how earlier I said that realizing your own death being not too far away is something you can't just forget? Perhaps that isn't true. In the midst of this, Kaoru had actually sort of...forgotten how fucked up this all was. Never did he forget the reality or the fear, but he sort of became numb to the concept—the phonetic words, at least. And so, hearing Hikaru whisper this over and over again to him makes him recall the first few days where it was the only thing he could think of. It's such a distant memory, although it really isn't distant at all.
He's going to die.
"You're dying."
He's going to die.
"You're dying."
Kaoru doesn't feel anything at all.
Hikaru begins to cry.
...
The next day Hikaru suggests they stay home from school. So they do. And the day after. And the day after that. And the next days too. (Although that doesn't really count since it was the weekend at that point)
While it's true that skipping school would make their parents angry and suspicious, it took a bit for word to reach up the ladder; their parents probably wouldn't hear until they were back from their current trip(s), and wasn't it just so convenient that they wouldn't return for another three weeks?
And that, at that point, Kaoru was probably going to be dead?
Kaoru guesses Hikaru too was abiding by his earlier assumptions that a dying person should probably quit all means of responsibility to live their last days out to the fullest. Although, it seemed Hikaru was also along for the ride (predictably) despite not having any sort of illness of his own.
The fact, in that way, he was ripping Hikaru away from his own life because of his problems was the very thing he was afraid of happening in the first place. Really seems like he can't win no matter what he does, huh? It seemed no matter the outcome, Hikaru would end up hurt either way, and that just SUCKED. Logically, everyone knows you can't choose who you fall in love with, but Kaoru felt guilty regardless. None of this would be happening if he fell for somebody else—just didn't fall at all.
But there's no use crying over spilled milk. Hikaru certainly didn't want that for him in anycase.
Case in point, his older brother was clearly trying to spend literally every moment possible with him. Their first day off, Hikaru took them to a beach to swim, then they went to an amusement park, then a fancy restaurant, and ended the day off with a movie marathon. The day after, they showered together (it was "faster" Hikaru said) before visiting a literature historical museum, a commoner's laundromat (commoners have to outsource their laundry to these shitty places!? Poor Haruhi...), out to the movies, a cat cafe (commoners employ cats too!? What are their salary rates...), and a water park.
It was fun, if not totally exhausting. And if Kaoru was being honest, he was sort of in metaphorical heaven (before he reaches literal heaven. Sorry, too soon?). Spending so much personal time with his brother, doing all these fun, pseudo-date things...sure, they've done a lot of things like this before, but the atmosphere this time was...different. More intense. And how couldn't it be? Kaoru's life was wavering. These weren't frivolous activities. These were goodbye gifts.
They both crashed on the third day. They were exhausted from back-to-back long, intensive outings. Hikaru clearly still wanted to do things even in this state, not wanting to waste even a second. But if Kaoru was honest, he just wanted to sleep. He was exhausted; he doesn't think he could get up at six in the morning again and go through a whole day of activity.
Well, Hikaru clearly thought otherwise, because he badgered and pestered despite clearly being tired himself (come to think, has he been sleeping right? He doesn't look like he has) and after rejecting him for the fifth time, he starts...crying.
Ooookay...that's not normal.
Hikaru doesn't cry often and it seemed to happen out of nowhere. Feeling a bit spooked and guilty, Kaoru quickly changed his tune and agreed to do more things today; he'll get up and shower, just please stop crying!
After some...calming down, Hikaru sniffed and nodded, and the two shower together again. Kaoru's heart would be racing for other reasons if he wasn't so worried and confused. But Hikaru didn't say anything, and so Kaoru didn't ask. Maybe the lack of sleep and stress just got to him for a moment.
Kaoru did feel much more awake after the shower, and as he was being dragged downstairs for breakfast, he checked his phone.
New texts. One from Haruhi and one from Tamaki. Both were of the same question, if not phrased in their own personal ways, boiling down to: Where are you two?
Haruhi's at least supplied extra information, explaining she had tried to ask Hikaru first but he never replied.
Such a thing didn't sit right with him. Hikaru almost always replies to Haruhi. If he glanced at his brother across the table, he was busy scarfing down some pancakes.
He texted back `sorry, we both caught a cold. We'll be better soon enough` then he put away his phone.
...
"Some cold, huh?"
Haruhi took a long sip from her soda after the dubious statement. Hikaru feigns a laugh that only Kaoru would be able to spot as forced before putting another fry in his mouth.
"Yeah, knocked us out pretty good."
The reply was so effortless that for a moment Kaoru was transported to a world where it was just a bad cold he was dealing with. How lucky that would be.
"So you'll be back to school tomorrow, right?" Tamaki asks them with that dumb optimistic tone in his voice.
Of course, the twins exchange side-glances before Kaoru answers for the two of them. "Well, actually, we're pretty busy with the business right now. Mom needs us."
"The business," Kyoya quotes with a suspicious edge. (Damn that calculative bastard)
Well, it probably didn't help Kyoya clearly didn't care for the commoner food they were eating, but that's a him problem.
"Is it really so important you're forced away from school?" Haruhi asks like the commoner she is.
Hikaru "duh"s her. "It's part of the lifestyle. Duty calls, you know?"
"I guess." Tamaki slumps, defeated.
"Make sure to show us all the pretty clothes you guys make!" Hani chimes in behind a comically large soda drink.
"Yeah, sure."
Kaoru says it perhaps too dismissively; a fire aches in his chest, although it can just as easily be from the disease literally blooming in his lungs.
It's hard to imagine this may be the last time he ever sees his friends. He weakly sips at his drink, appetite fully lost.
"Also," he quietly adds, "thanks for coming out on such short notice, all of you."
It's short, simple, innocuous, and none of them catch the true meaning. Well, except Hikaru, who pauses for a moment and stares down blankly at the table.
"Of course! The host club just isn't complete without its favorite pair of loving brothers, hm?"
Haruhi groans at Tamaki and Kyoya rolls his eyes. Kaoru smiles, but it's very, very bittersweet.
...
Tuesday morning was slightly different. For instance, Kaoru had woken up first.
Typically, such an occurrence would be ordinary, but as per the last several days, Hikaru was the first to awake, soon followed by him waking up Kaoru to start their day. Kaoru was a little thankful that he was up first if just to bathe in the relaxation of doing nothing for a few minutes before Hikaru dragged them both on some new adventure. Sincerely, he was grateful that Hikaru was trying to spend their last days together with excitement, but Kaoru also needed to rest sometimes. Plus, as of late, it seemed any sort of physical activity left him dizzy and breathless. He tried not to realize the implications of that, and he also tried not to let himself dwell on the fact Hikaru definitely noticed—and valiantly ignored—the fact Kaoru was struggling to keep up with him nowadays.
Nobody wanted to think about it.
But unfortunately, Kaoru was king overthinker and that's all he could do. Even as he stared at his brother's peaceful sleeping form, all he could do was think about how this isn't going to last. It hurts. It hurts so much; it's too fast. He doesn't want to leave yet.
He gets it now, he thinks; Hikaru's insistence on using every possible minute of the day, crying at the thought of Kaoru sleeping away his last hours; it's all too soon. There will never be enough time in this world.
But Hikaru—just for right now, just for a few minutes, he wants to admire Hikaru. His adorably peaceful face while sleeping, his messy auburn hair, the golden sun glinting off of it. Yes, yes, Kaoru knows full well now that his admiration and thinking Hikaru cute or gorgeous comes nowhere near from a place of innocence, but he can't help it. If his stupid feelings got him into this mess and were going to be his eventual death, he then deserves to have this much.
He was going to die because he thinks his brother is the cutest, greatest person in the world. He's also a bastard but he loves him for it. Maybe he deserves this fate. But he may as well take this conviction to the grave.
He'd like the grave to hold out just a LITTLE bit longer though he thinks as he wheezes and makes his way to the bathroom.
...
This fit was worse than the others. Well, DUH, that's how illness progression works, but—
Okay. Well, firstly, it feels like something's trying to burst out of his chest a la Alien. It hurts so fucking bad Kaoru is sure he's going to pass out from the pain, but he's also too busy hacking to faint. That too is really fucking painful and hard on his throat, and he is decidedly NOT a fan of the fact he's coughing up a lot more blood than he once was.
Those aren't even the worst parts, though! Or...neither of them is the worst part. How would you put this grammatically? Whatever. Kaoru had better things to worry about than his choice of words.
Such as the fact he can't breathe.
Luckily, it lasts only several seconds, but for a moment there while he's coughing he legitimately couldn't breathe. Like there was something stuck in his throat and trapped in his lungs 'cuz, well, there is. And it's the scariest fucking thing ever to not be able to breathe even when you're desperately struggling. Because, because fuck he NEEDS to breathe.
Luckily or unluckily depending on your outlook, Hikaru hears him and rushes to the bathroom, swinging open the door (luckily) after Kaoru had gotten over his momentary suffocation. That doesn't mean he's in any good shape, though; intense pain mixed with adrenaline from choking is not a good combo, and so he's trembling really hard and trying not to cry and is still coughing.
Hikaru is right next to him in an instant, anxiety and fear practically radiating off of him. He's saying some things Kaoru doesn't quite catch in this state, but at least he feels Hikaru's hand on his back.
It's after a lot of painful struggling he manages to gag and cough up a flower. Again, nearly formed, and Kaoru tries and fails to not let the thought bother him.
And since Hikaru is made privy at this point, Kaoru sees no point in trying to hide it. He's utterly exhausted now anyways and all but collapses against the toilet seat.
If he looked, he knew for certain Hikaru's expression was a mix of horror and disbelief—it was the first time he saw somebody spit up a literal, whole flower (which surely doesn't happen everyday)—before his brother began shaking his body.
"Kaoru! Kaoru, are you alright?"
His voice is hurried and panicked and though he doesn't want to, Kaoru cracks his eyes open to look at him. Only rasping out a rough and weak, "Yeah."
He cares very little for the absolute distraught look on Hikaru's face. He's heartbroken, wide-eyed—he's scared.
"Y-You can't die," he pleads as if Kaoru could change a thing.
Kaoru doesn't hail to answer because nothing he says would fix the situation. All he does instead is flush the toilet and straighten his body out with ample trembling.
"I'm gonna go back to bed. I'm tired now," he speaks hoarsely.
It's quick and terrified when Hikaru blurts "No!"
"Huh?"
"You can't," Hikaru swiftly warns, "you— it's dangerous. You can't."
"I'm tried." The reply is less an argumentative comeback and a flat, final order.
"You can't," Hikaru panics. "You'll— you can't! Kaoru, please listen to me."
"Staying up isn't going to make my chances of survival any higher, Hikaru."
"W-Well, I don't— damn it."
Hikaru is also trembling, Kaoru realizes. Wild fear is written across his gaze and he looks crazed for lack of a better descriptor.
His brother picks up the pieces of his frustration, exacerbated.
"I'm just trying to figure out how to keep you alive, okay!? Since you aren't doing much about it!"
Kaoru blinks. "Hikaru?"
"Why—Why don't you care about this as much as I do? Do you want to die!? Why aren't you doing anything to stop it!?"
"I-I said I can't—"
"You can!" Hikaru screams. "You can! You're just too much of—of a fucking coward that you'd rather die!"
"That isn't true, Hikaru!"
"Isn't it? I said I'd help you no matter what! I don't care who you love, Kaoru, I'll make them fall in love with you! Who fucking cares if it's wrong or ruins their life? All I care about is keeping you alive!"
"I care!" Kaoru shouts back, unexpected even to himself. "I care, Hikaru! I don't want to ruin someone's life because of my own selfishness! I'd rather die!"
The yelling on his already abused throat does a number on him and he begins coughing again. Hikaru squeaks and steers him closer.
"I-I'm sorry, Kaoru!" he apologizes, panicking. "I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean it!"
Kaoru would oh-so love to reply, but you see, he's busy being jerked by painful hacks. He grits his teeth and bares it, quite literally at points, and manages to quickly calm himself down enough so that the painful coughing regresses to an annoying itch inside his chest.
"Kaoru?"
Hikaru sounds fearful. He's brushing his hand against Kaoru's cheek, trembling. And though he tries to hold it back, Kaoru begins to cry.
"I-I don't wanna die," he admits discordantly. "It's not like I'm trying to die. I just can't, Hikaru, I can't..."
"You can," Hikaru repeats, gentle and soft this time but just as firm. "You can, Kaoru. We can make this work. We can find a way."
Kaoru sniffles. "It'll ruin everything."
"What will ruin everything is you leaving me." Hikaru dries some of Kaoru's tears with the pad of his thumb, a pained expression on his face. "Let me help, Kaoru. Please."
"Y-You— I..."
"Please. I can't live knowing I let you die when I could have done something. I can't live if you die. Kaoru...please."
It's unabashed begging at this point. So unlike his brother, defeated and pleading. Truly, it seems he's at the end of his rope, and all he can ask through a choked sob is, "please."
Kaoru mentally notes the time he has left to live theoretically. He notes the pros and cons, and like, maybe the cons outweigh the pros. They probably do. If anything, he doesn't really deserve salvation for his fucked up desires, but the rational part of him is slipping through his fingers like sand.
He mumbles quietly. Hikaru doesn't hear him.
"What?"
"I s-said, it's..."
"It's what, Kaoru?"
"Y...You..."
Hikaru opens his mouth, the likely then-to-be inquiry: "what is me?" But he shuts his mouth again before even speaking the first syllable because his face is lighting up with realization and utter shock envelops his whole being.
Kaoru swallows hard, thinking he may start coughing again.
"I'm sorry. It's my fault."
There's really no justification so Kaoru doesn't try to fake one. He says it how it is then tears his gaze away to the floor.
It's disgusting, he thinks. The whole situation is disgusting. It's disgusting he fell in love with Hikaru and it's disgusting he's being punished for feelings he can't control. It's not like he even intended to tell his brother! But...what choice does he have in this situation? It's like one of those fucked up dilemmas, like, would you save 100 people or 1 friend from death—that kind of shit. Except every option leads to Kaoru's inevitable demise.
Yet, as soon as such a thought crosses him, he feels his face being gently cupped, and then warm lips connect to his own.
It's an instant spark of adrenaline. In all honesty, it took Kaoru a moment to even REALIZE what was happening. Like, who the fuck is kissing him right now? Oh, wait, it's Hikaru—Hikaru???
And yeah, Hikaru is kissing him. And it feels good. Really fucking good. Kaoru melts into it as soon as his brain catches up. Too bad it feels like it lasts only a second before his older brother pulls away, his body a clear wall of tension.
"Is that what you want?"
It's so hesitant; afraid to make a mistake.
"More than anything."
Kaoru's moral sensibilities are gone to the wind.
"So," Hikaru breathes, closing in on his lips again, "all I have to do is love you like this, and you'll...be okay?"
Kaoru nearly closes the gap between them, but as the high calms down Hikaru's words become clear to him.
"Hikaru," Kaoru frowns, "you can't force yourself to love me."
"I do love you, Kaoru."
Kaoru pulls away.
"Not like this you don't. Don't throw your life away for me."
"Throw my life away? You're the one who will literally die if I do nothing. Besides, what's the difference? We're already closer than most people—probably than most couples. Why not go the extra mile?"
"Because that's not what you want."
"You don't know what I want."
Kaoru is beyond skeptical, guilt an ugly nausea twisting his gut. But Hikaru is so eager, and Kaoru knows why, but a part of him almost doesn't care. He almost doesn't care that Hikaru technically can't love him, not when he's being forced into it for his sake. He almost doesn't care how wrong it is, how bad it is for Hikaru.
He almost doesn't care because it makes him feel as high as a kite.
But that's only almost. He does care. He cares a lot.
But not enough to not accept when Hikaru goes in for another kiss.
...
Kaoru isn't too sure why he feels the need to kill the mood right when Hikaru is holding him and kissing him in bed, but he's a little like his brother sometimes in that his mouth works faster than his brain.
"This might not work."
Hikaru hesitantly pulls away to make a quiet noise of question.
"They say that even if you cure the disease in its late stage, it may be too late."
Hikaru frowns. "I won't let that happen."
Kaoru would like to remind Hikaru that he has no choice in the matter but he decides against it. He doesn't say what he means because this is Kaoru and when has he ever not been a cryptic asshole? But he hopes Hikaru understands it all the same.
He doesn't want to force Hikaru into something he doesn't want just so he can keep him alive. That'd be worse than dying for Kaoru.
Maybe Hikaru does realize the truth behind Kaoru's sudden words, or maybe it's written across his gaze. Hikaru just looks sad—sad for Kaoru—and brushes his little brother's hair gently.
"Don't feel bad, Kaoru. I don't mind this at all. I'd do anything for you. I love you."
He kisses Kaoru again on the lips, and Kaoru tries to ignore the fact Hikaru never once said he liked this either.
...
So. Dating Hikaru is...weird.
Well, duh, of course it's weird; it's his damn brother after all. You aren't supposed to feel comfortable dating your sibling. But somehow, Kaoru is...disillusioned. I know, I know, being disappointed in incest, shocker. But seriously, it's not so much the fact Hikaru isn't what he imagined in a romantic partner, it's that...Hikaru seems to be trying too hard.
He's doing all these things he's never done before under the guise of romance or some bullshit. Instead of just being himself, he seems to be under this conception that he needs to be something Kaoru wants. And, really, that makes sense, right? Kaoru has some stupid weird disease that's only cured via requited love, of course Hikaru is going to do everything in his power to make his love feel requited.
And maybe therein lies the problem.
Hikaru really doesn't love him that way, no matter how hard he tries.
Kaoru appreciates the effort. More than anything, really. But he's said it before and goddamn it he'll say it again: he doesn't want Hikaru to force himself into something for his sake. Hikaru clearly doesn't love him like a boyfriend. He loves him like a brother. Like how a brother should. And it's Kaoru's fault for wanting different in the first place.
Breathing is getting harder even when just lying down, so he doesn't get out of bed the next day.
...
Kaoru isn't surprised to find that he's STILL coughing up flowers. Even if the disease wasn't so far progressed, he doubts it would clear up since Hikaru obviously doesn't really love him and he consciously knows that. Maybe if Hikaru was a stellar actor or Kaoru was as dense as Haruhi, he could trick himself and this disease into believing Hikaru really does love him back. But he can't, because unfortunately he's not stupid.
And, you know, it seems like a bit of a cruel cosmic joke to make Hikaru become romantically involved with his own brother only for it to end in failure. Kaoru will probably be remembered as the worst ex-boyfriend ever.
Kaoru tries reeeally hard to not make Hikaru privy to any of this, but that's pretty hard considering the guy is extremely invested in his health especially since he's now his "boyfriend".
So Hikaru knows it too.
...
"It's because it's just too late for me."
It's the blunt truth; at least the easier to swallow pill than "you don't love me enough and so I'm going to die".
"That's not true," Hikaru argues. "You're not dying."
Kaoru sighs for what is probably the zillionth time and shoots Hikaru a flat look.
"Hikaru, I can barely get out of bed at this rate. Just accept it."
"Stop it!"
The loud voice is entirely to make up for an intimidation factor that isn't there. That, or it's because Hikaru is very, VERY close to tears.
"Why are you giving up so easily!? Why don't you care that you're going to die!?"
"I do care," Kaoru half-yells back. "I'm just also being realistic. There's no reason for me to pretend this is going to work out."
"So you're not even going to try and fight for it?"
"I'm not gunning to set myself up for disappointment."
The conversation dies almost right then and there and Kaoru softly sighs.
"I don't want to die," Kaoru quietly reassures his desolate brother, "but it's not like I have much of a choice. Sucks you had to waste your time doing all those disgusting things for me."
It's said in lieu of a genuine apology because Kaoru feels his throat tightening and he isn't sure if it's a cough building up or a sob threatening to break through. Either way he swallows it back, Hikaru seemingly under similar emotional conflict.
"Is it my fault?"
It's so sudden and meek from Hikaru of all people that Kaoru has to do a double take.
"What?"
"This is my fault, isn't it? It's because I'm not doing enough. Or—Or I should have done something sooner, or..."
"Hikaru," Kaoru snaps him from his spiraling thoughts, "none of this is your fault. Really, it's on me for—"
Hikaru is cutting him off before he even completes the thought.
"It's not! It's not your fault you fell in love, who cares!? Why are you being punished for that!? Why—Why do you have to die for that!?"
Kaoru bites the inside of his lip as Hikaru crouches over his lying form, fists full of his shirt, whimpers from poorly contained sobs whistling out with each breath. The younger twin carefully wraps his arms around him and Hikaru accepts in an instant, tears slipping down his face.
"You can't die, you can't, Kaoru. I'm so sorry." calling it a sob would be generous. It's more like a wail. "I-I'm not doing enough, I know. But I love you! I do! I-I don't know in what way, maybe it's not what you want, but I love you more than anyone or anything, a-and you just can't die, okay? You can't."
The rumbles of a sob vibrate against Kaoru's palm.
"If I had a choice, I wouldn't," Kaoru murmurs.
"Please." Hikaru is now peering up at him with desperate, tearful eyes. "I'll do anything. Anything you want. I love you, Kaoru. How can I prove that?"
Kaoru smiles, although it's extremely bittersweet. "You already have a million times before."
"But it's still not enough."
Kaoru's tiny smile falls as Hikaru buries his face back into his chest, fighting off renewed sorrow.
"I wish I knew what was enough."
"I do too," Kaoru murmurs.
What was a tender moment was then ruined by Kaoru wheezing. Granted, his regular breathing pattern had been disrupted to the point where it could generally be described as wheezing, but it was escalating laying down like this with Hikaru's weight on him. He gently pushed his brother off and sat up, coughing surprisingly lightly. It didn't hurt so much, nor did it feel like he had to cough as much as it felt like something was just...lodged. And it made it harder to breathe.
"Kaoru? Are you okay? What's wrong?"
Hikaru's tone and eyes spelled panic. Kaoru tried clearing his throat to no avail. He took as deep of a breath as he could.
"I'm fine, just...you know."
Except there really is no "you know" because Kaoru has no clue what the hell is going on and it's scaring him. Perhaps Hikaru senses this fear, or he simply hears the strain behind his breathing, because his eyes are darting wildly up and down his brother's failing body before he finally says "Don't move, I'll be right back."
And he runs out of the room.
...
"'If you want to join our crew'," Hikaru said in a theatrically authoritative voice, "'You've gotta prove it to us! Nobody's gonna believe you're a real dinosaur.'"
Kaoru smirks over the rim of his cup, instinctively adding the next line: "'Yeah, you could just be an overstuffed lizard.'"
He sipped on his warm honey-tea blend as Hikaru continued the verbal story, back propped up by countless numbers of pillows to keep him upright and breathing well but still comfortably.
It's kind of funny (but maybe not in a laughing way?) how easily Hikaru is able to flip a switch inside of himself. When he left the bedroom, he apparently formulated some plan in his head in those five minutes—a plan that, so it seemed, would last the duration of the night.
While by no means a cure, sitting up and drinking something warm did help his breathing. And while serving no medical purpose, Hikaru's improv story-telling—a hobby unique to him—always brightened Kaoru up so, like, win-win.
Even as Kaoru set aside his drink and began drifting off to sleep, Hikaru kept the story up (minding his voice of course). And Kaoru was soon out like a light.
...
Somehow he did not awake to clawing pain in his chest, but he did awake to Hikaru sitting at the edge of the bed, scrolling away on his phone.
Kaoru blinks sleep out of his eyes and tries to angle his head to see what Hikaru is looking at. The ruffle in the sheets causes enough noise for Hikaru to look over his shoulder and grin at him.
"Hey, sleeping beauty," he jeers. Kaoru doesn't roll his eyes if only because he's still too sleepy, but he thinks about it really, really hard.
"Good morning to you too. Have you been up all night?"
"Good afternoon," Hikaru corrects. "It's almost one o'clock. And what makes you say the second part?"
Momentarily brushing off the slight shock of sleeping in so late (has skipping school for the past several days thrown off his schedule THAT much?), he returns, "Because you look like you haven't slept."
His brother scoffs at this at first before shrugging noncommittally. "Just wanted to make sure nothing bad happened while you were asleep."
"So you watched me sleep?"
Hikaru seems a little embarrassed. "Did not. I just checked occasionally."
"And knowing you," Kaoru smirks, "that was probably every two minutes."
"I see you've decided to be difficult today." Regardless of the jab, Hikaru chuckles. Then—and to be honest, Kaoru almost didn't see it coming—he leans forward from his spot, pecking Kaoru on the check like they used to do as children.
"I'm so happy you're awake," he murmurs, double meaning clear.
Kaoru suddenly feels very awake. Heat rises to his face and his heart thumps in his chest and he almost forgets to breathe.
Whatever he was going to reply with dies in his throat. Hikaru catches this quickly and laughs.
"What, that's what leaves you speechless? A kiss on the cheek?"
"Hey," Kaoru shoots back, but it's mumbled and embarrassed. He's not quite sure himself, but the whole thing—the pure love and joy in Hikaru's voice, the peck on the cheek, laughing at his reaction—it's so...normal. So Hikaru. It's not forced, it's just genuine. And that's probably why Kaoru's heart is racing so fast.
"I don't mind," Hikaru shrugs. "It's funny. Maybe I'll catch you off-guard and do it again."
"Will you now?" Kaoru returns in half-challenge half-humor, yawning as the adrenaline tapers off.
"I will. Maybe after lunch—you're hungry, aren't you?"
"I mean, I could eat."
Well to be more precise, by "could" he means "should" and also he is pretty darn hungry so he isn't sure why he didn't just say that. Such are the mysteries of life and Kaoru's inability to be straight-forward.
"Me too. Do you need help getting out of bed?"
Despite asking, he was already helping Kaoru out and onto his feet. Though his breath was still short, he thankfully didn't feel any crippling pain in the process.
In love or not, the gentle but respectful way Hikaru walked slowly for him made him feel more loved than anything else.
...
"You weren't at school all week!"
Tamaki's melodramatic spiel could be heard across the room from where Hikaru paced and Kaoru lay on his back in bed.
"Business trip, remember?" Hikaru spoke back into the phone. "We said it'd be a while."
"But we miss you..."
If the ":(" emoticon could be transferred into voice it'd sound exactly like that, Kaoru thinks.
"Yeah, yeah." (<- Hikaru's way of saying "I miss you too") "Look, we'll be home eventually, okay? We're just busy. You can survive without us there for a bit."
"I guess..." Tamaki sighs. "Can I send a card?"
"We're traveling. I doubt it'll reach us in time before we move again. Just email us or something."
"But cards are more special."
Hikaru groans loudly. From where he lies staring at the ceiling, Kaoru can just imagine the exasperation on Hikaru's face and smirks.
"Give us the card when we get back," Hikaru suggests.
Tamaki hangs on this for a moment. "I suppose that will do. I wonder what kind of card I should get...commoners have all these silly, whimsical ones. I saw this one at a 'dollar store' Haruhi took me to—it was a dog with a party hat and he—"
"I'm hanging up, boss." Hikaru cuts the line before Tamaki can object.
"Harsh," Kaoru comments as Hikaru walks over to his bedside, "I was kind of interested in what the card said."
"It's a dog in a party hat; it probably said 'party animal' or something stupid like that."
They both smirk at this momentarily before Hikaru asks, "How are the breathing exercises going?"
"Okay, I think. It doesn't hurt."
It's true, surprisingly: Hikaru did some research on recovery tips for hanahaki, and found some sort of recommendation for breathing exercises. And while Kaoru can't say they've been doing anything—not that he can tell—it doesn't hurt, so there's no loss in trying.
"Good, good." He caps the statement off with a swift peck on Kaoru's lips, diving down to reach him. Kaoru makes a small noise of surprise before groaning.
"You're a jerk."
Hikaru laughs. "A jerk for kissing you? Uncalled, I think."
"Just a little bit, since it seems you like to jumpscare me with them." Kaoru curls forward to sit up. Despite his words, he really wouldn't have it any other way. Hikaru learning to have some fun with this made everything feel more real and genuine than it did before. And faced with that idea yet again, Kaoru can't help but wonder.
"Hikaru," he abruptly addresses, "can I be honest about something?"
Hikaru frowns. "Since when did you have to ask?"
"Since now." Kaoru sighs. "I know you said before that this doesn't bother you, but...you don't actually love me, do you?" a pause. "And don't lie to me."
Hikaru clicks his tongue. He opens his mouth to answer, closes it again, and looks unsure. Since he fails to reply in the first second, Kaoru continues.
"It's okay if you don't. I don't expect you to. And really, it's nice you're trying to do all of this for me. But you can't lie to me and expect it to fix anything. Honestly, all I want is for you to be happy, Hikaru. And I doubt you want me to be your boyfriend for the rest of your life."
"You're dying and you still worry about my feelings. Have some self-respect, Kaoru."
The words are firm but still gentle. He brushes a hand through his younger brother's hair.
"In all honesty, I don't know," he finally answers. "I don't know what falling in love is supposed to feel like. I don't know what kind of love you want from me. I don't really understand any of it, and that's really damn annoying."
"You don't understand it?"
"Not a single thing." Hikaru grimaces. "But I do love you. That's never a lie. I'd do anything for you, Kaoru. I enjoy everything we do, I even enjoy kissing you. I think it's fun and easy to get into, and I don't mind spending my whole life with you. I'd like that, actually. But...I'm not sure how it's supposed to feel."
The question is written in his words and so Kaoru answers. "It's...I don't know. It's hard to describe. It's like a really strong desire or a special type of longing. That's how it feels."
Hikaru absorbs this answer and considers it. "I can't say that's really how I feel," he finally answers. "I just know I really care about you and I'm always happy to be around you and that I feel really shitty when I'm alone or you're not feeling well. There's no one else I care so much about."
To be fair, their bond has never been easy to understand or all that cut and dry. What Hikaru describes, Kaoru could understand. In a way, he and Hikaru were already closer than most married couples, just not an actual married couple. And so with a complicated relationship comes complicated feelings, and clearly Hikaru is passionately dedicated to him—which Kaoru already knew. But he's not romantically in love, or at least not in any traditional way.
Kaoru wonders if it really matters though. Hikaru clearly cares so much, accepts and even plays into Kaoru's feelings. He feels something—maybe not the same thing Kaoru does, but it's still something positive—and isn't that what matters most?
"I get it," is what Kaoru eventually replies with. "Hikaru?"
"Yeah?"
"You don't have to try so hard to be something you're not. I know you're trying really hard to be a romantic partner, doing what you think you should be doing, but that's not what I want. I want you to be yourself, even if that means you're not really in love with me."
The suggestion, while completely normal, does come with immediately recognizable ramifications. "Isn't that dangerous?"
"Maybe," Kaoru admits. "But this will make me happier."
It's a short hesitation, but ultimately Hikaru is sold by Kaoru's words. He kisses him on the cheek.
...
Next time Kaoru inevitably coughs up flowers, they're wilted. He has no clue if this is a "I'm saved" or a "I'm fucked" sign.
...
So, mom and dad came home early. Yay, woo, cue celebratory noises.
Except it's not a celebration, it's a goddamn annoyance.
Obviously, once they (mom) hear about their little "playing hooky", they get yelled at by them (mom) for a good five minutes. And while they did have a good reason for staying home for so long, saying "Hey, Kaoru is dying" is not the, uh, best option? Which, yeah, maybe their parents should be informed that one of their own kids may kick the bucket soon, but the situation is so needlessly complicated. It'd be one thing if he had, like, cancer. But saying he's coughing up flowers because he fell in love with his own brother? Yeah. That's best kept to yourself.
Luckily, besides a verbal lashing, they got off relatively scott-free. The only real drawback is, starting tomorrow, they were forced to go back to school again.
"Is that okay? We could maybe push it off longer," Hikaru fretted that night. It was silly, but in a way, his anxiety made him sound more like Kaoru than Hikaru.
"It's fine, Hikaru. It's just school. Besides, my chest doesn't hurt as much. Maybe those breathing exercises are working."
"Maybe it's going away?" Hikaru asked very hopefully. And to those wide, pleading eyes, Kaoru couldn't possibly say no. He just smiled awkwardly and silenced him with a "maybe".
...
School is both a sigh of relief and a sigh of frustration.
Yes, yes, Kaoru is beyond ecstatic to see the host club again (that sounded sarcastic but I promise he's happy). On the other hand, being swarmed by classmates asking where he and his brother were, some in good faith and some in not-so-good faith alike, was a little maddening. There's also gym class which Hikaru has helped him skip since his breathing still didn't feel right and he was not risking his life on a game of fucking frisbee.
But if he brushes that aside for a quick moment, there are good things too. The host club, namely. Everyone's welcomes were uplifting, albeit perhaps underwhelming as they still operated under the assumption that they were just away on trip. Tamaki however has his ways of making every small celebration feel like a party, so it doesn't really matter.
And if he's allowed to be cheesy for a moment (come on; after being cursed to death for it he's a little afraid!), he finds Hikaru's attempts at helping him rather cute, if not somewhat unnecessary. He picks up a pencil Kaoru drops so he doesn't have to bend over; he helps carry his more heavy books; he even pulls out his chair for him. Nobody really questions it—just advertising for the host club. And honestly, Kaoru is extremely thankful for that net. It means he doesn't have to rack his brain for excuses on why his brother is suddenly treating him like a little princess. It's embarrassing, but it's sweet.
Kaoru expects to feel some sort of tightness in his chest. He doesn't.
...
The boss jumps right back into things now with Kaoru and Hikaru back, because it's Tamaki and if the man had to wait five minutes in line at a commoner's fast food joint, he'd explode.
They're probably the most popular guests that day next to Tamaki himself if only for their prolonged absence. They use their same lame excuse of family business to brush it aside; nobody questions it.
It's weird, Kaoru thinks, because his heart used to skip a beat or two when he and Hikaru did these silly little acts for their female audience. Yes, they were incredibly goofy and unrealistic, but he liked having Hikaru so close to his face. He liked being held by him, and he still likes all of that. He loves it. But oddly, whatever they have going on with this act, Kaoru isn't very interested personally.
He likes it best when he's with a Hikaru who isn't trying to act.
...
He nearly forgets about the whole "hanahaki" business until he's coughing up a lung later that night at home and, honestly, he's surprised he's avoided it all day at school.
Well, he guesses it has something to do with it not having a "trigger" anymore. Or at least that's his working theory.
Either way that doesn't take away from how utterly painful it is. Maybe he hasn't been drinking enough water either but he kind of feels like he's going to faint once he finally manages to reach the end of his coughing jag. He leans against Hikaru both for comfort and stability because his vision is swimming.
"Kaoru? A-Are you okay?"
"Gimme a sec," he slurs, blinking away the black spots in his vision. Once he feels steady enough, he takes an actual moment to acknowledge the wilted, blood-stained flower in the toilet water and again wonders if that's a good or bad sign. It doesn't feel like a good sign.
"I'm okay now," Kaoru finally answers. Considering how woozy he sounds, Hikaru doesn't really believe it.
"How are you feeling, though? Does your chest hurt?"
Hikaru touches his chest with his hand as if he wouldn't actually be able to tell. Kaoru finds the action a little humorous.
"I mean, it aches but it doesn't feel like I can't breathe."
Ironically, after he says this he takes a deep breath and feels some sort of blockage or tickle in his throat and begins coughing again. It's a lot less violent (and painful, thank God) but it still doesn't feel nice. It lasts significantly less long and Kaoru tastes iron on his tongue. There's small stains of blood left in the elbow of his shirt he instinctively coughed into.
Neither twin says anything because they're both thinking the mutual thought of "that isn't good, is it?" and match eyes.
"Do—Do you know what that means?"
"Why would I know?"
"Because you're the one who's sick!"
"That doesn't make me an expert!"
Hikaru groans, although Kaoru knows he's really just frightened and not at all irritated, and announces, "I'm gonna go look it up," before leaving the bathroom.
...
"It's fucking impossible to find anything about this online."
Kaoru resists the urge to smirk at him. He finishes wiping his hands off and shuts the bathroom door behind him.
"Too bad you aren't the expert, huh?"
"This really isn't the time for jokes, Kaoru."
Hikaru doesn't sound humored so Kaoru drops it and frowns.
"Maybe it's not a bad sign?" Kaoru poses to try and ease his brother's mind, but he seems unconvinced or at the very least skeptical.
After a few moments he eventually replies, "I don't know, I'd rather you not be coughing up blood."
"Is that more or less concerning than the flowers?" Kaoru jokes and this time Hikaru doesn't take the bait.
He leaves his brother to it, focusing more on clearing his throat and doing his breathing exercises until, twenty minutes later, Hikaru apparently has an answer.
"This guy on a forum from 1998," he prefaces, "says it's the flowers unrooting from your lungs. That's why there's more blood."
"Oh, I guess the wilting thing makes sense then," Kaoru says before he really thinks about it. But once he does, he questions, "unrooting?"
"I-I don't know, it doesn't really say more...but that's good, right?"
With his phone down, Hikaru is looking at him. In fact, he grabs him by the shoulders, basically pinning him as Kaoru is down on his back and Hikaru is now hovering over him.
"Since it's unrooting, that means it's getting out of your body, right?"
Kaoru has no clue if that's true or not. I mean, it SOUNDS true, and Hikaru looks so hopeful and anxious and...he wants that to be true so, so badly. Who wouldn't?
"I mean, m-maybe."
Kaoru sounds so unsure, not of the hypothesis, but of the outcome. Hikaru gets off him, frowning.
"You want this thing to go away, don't you?"
"Of course I do!" Kaoru exclaims, sitting up. "I do. I don't want to die."
"...But?"
He sighs. "I don't know. It just feels...weird. Like, wrong."
This prompts a look of disbelief courtesy of his brother. "Wrong? How could this feel wrong? You're gonna live, Kaoru!"
"And I spent the last few months coming to terms with the fact I wasn't. This isn't an easy change, you know. It's so sudden."
At least the explanation, however simple it may have been, appeared to make Hikaru understand. His disbelief disappeared with something more thoughtful.
"I...guess I didn't really think of it like that. I'm just really happy that you're not gonna die."
Kaoru elects to not remind Hikaru that they're just going off of guesses and he may very well be wrong. "I am too. I just...can't feel it yet. It just doesn't sound real. I don't want to get my hopes up."
"Is that why you're always so adamant about it never getting better?" Hikaru asks, and it's a genuine question too; it's not a jab or insult.
"It's easier to just accept it. If I gave myself a reason to believe otherwise, then it just hurts more when I'm wrong."
There must have been some sort of arbitrary test in place, and whatever its scoring, Kaoru seemed to fail because Hikaru looked very sad.
"So you think you'll always be wrong? That you can't even hope for it to get better?"
Kaoru scoffed but it lacked any punch. "I fell in love with my own brother. That's a pretty hopeless situation."
A beat passes and almost as if it were a script, Hikaru tilts Kaoru's chin up to kiss him on the lips. It's fleeting and small, but Kaoru's heart leaps all the same.
Even more so, when Hikaru smirks in that mischievously self-assured way he does, saying, "Even now?"
Kaoru can't help but grin, a modicum of sheepishness welling up inside his chest (and no, it's not a cough. He'd be able to tell). "Shut up."
His brother laughs. "Okay, I will...on one condition."
With an "ugh", Kaoru rolls his eyes, dramatically answering, "Yes, O brother of mine?"
"Put a little more faith into yourself...and into getting through this. Because there's no way I'm letting my brother die because of fucking flowers."
This time, Kaoru laughs. And so easily, their lips are meeting again.
"I think I can try that."
---
I'M FUCKING SORRY THIS TOOK 50000 YEARS TO FINISH <- actually took 1 month.
Seriously though, thanks for prompting me to actually write this. I really loved the idea in my head although it was half-formed at the time. It probably could stand to be much longer but I'm happy with what I've made. The ending is open-ended but you can safely assume Kaoru gets better.
Also, as for the romantic aspect of this fic, I want to throw it out there I really didn't have a solid direction on how I wanted Hikaru to be portrayed (if he simply wasn't in love with his brother or wasn't in love yet etc) but honestly I kind of was aiming for him being aromantic, but it's up to viewer interpretation.
Uhhh yeah *jazz hands* hope you liked it? :'D
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