Chapter Text
When Tsunehiro arrives at Everymart in the morning, Takaaki is standing outside by the door, even though Tsunehiro is fairly certain he doesn't have a shift scheduled for today. Arms folded, leaning against the glass, he honestly looks kind of intimidating. Is he sure he isn't scaring away customers?
Tsunehiro approaches carefully. When he woke up, there were a lot of missed calls and texts from him. He didn't realize he would be calling so much after the first time, or else he probably would've answered. Maybe. After he saw, he messaged him immediately to say he'd return home after work, but apparently that didn’t relieve his worry.
Takaaki starts walking quickly towards him when he spots him coming. Tsunehiro stops frozen. He doesn't know how to interact with him anymore, now that Takaaki knows about his illness, and after he kind of ran out on him last night, and now, terrifyingly, that Tsunehiro has realized he likes him back.
Takaaki shakes him by the shoulders, looking weirdly relieved. "Don't just disappear on me like that," he says, sounding unnaturally shaken, and then pulls him in for a hug.
After Takaaki’s been trying not to touch him for so long, the sudden contact makes Tsunehiro dizzy, freezing up completely. And while he was somewhat used to Takaaki being pretty touchy-feely before, hugging on a public sidewalk is a first for them. Tsunehiro is too shocked to even think about hugging him back before Takaaki pulls away and lets him go, looking a little apologetic.
“What is it?" Tsunehiro says, in a daze.
Takaaki puts a hand on his shoulder and sighs. "You told me you weren't coming home and then stopped responding to anything. What do you think that looked like to me?"
Tsunehiro rubs his fingers together nervously. “I dunno," he says. "Sorry. I turned my phone off so I didn't realize you called me so much. I just slept at a net cafe to clear my mind a little."
Takaaki looks disapproving, like he's fighting the urge to tell him off, but his expression goes neutral. "I'm sorry if I scared you off," he says.
“It's okay," Tsunehiro says, starting to feel a little hopeful. Maybe he’ll lay off about the hospital now. "Now, uh, I think I have to go to work now or I might be late."
Takaaki lets go of him and shakes his head. "No, you don't have work today," Takaaki tells him.
Tsunehiro blinks. "Huh?"
"Arua's taking over your shift." He jerks his thumb back at himself. "And we are going fishing."
Tsunehiro stares at him, eyes wide open. Didn’t he just apologize for scaring him off? Why is he being even more pushy? He shakes his head. "I took work off the day before, too," he protests. "I can't do it again today."
"Don't worry, I already have Machida-san's approval,” Takaaki says. “He's been worried about you, too, you know?"
Tsunehiro rubs the back of his head. He’s realized that, in the back of his head, but he’s been trying to ignore it. A little worry now will be better than grieving later.
"We've all been worried about you." He reaches out to take Tsunehiro's hand, and with Tsunehiro's new realization of his crush on him, he tenses up a little. "I parked my car nearby, so let's go."
Tsunehiro hesitates. “Stop,” he says, and pulls his hand out of Takaaki’s grip. “Why do you want me to go fishing with you so badly?”
Takaaki tilts his head. “You want to go, don’t you?” he asks. “I’ve seen you watching fishing videos, and I’ve seen you take out and stare at the Exceed when you think I’m asleep. You’re not hiding it well.”
Tsunehiro feels his face warm up. He thought he was doing a good job keeping it secret, but he guesses it’s hard to hide stuff for a whole month from your roommate living in an apartment that small.
“I guess,” he says. “If you insist.”
Takaaki smiles. "Don't worry, I brought your fishing gear from the apartment, too."
After Takaaki drives them to the parking lot, Tsunehiro picks up the Exceed from the trunk of the car, turning it over in his hands. As Takaaki noticed, he has sometimes taken it out at home, just to hold and admire, but it’s been so long since he’s actually fished with it.
It's been so long since he's gone fishing. Well, it's only been around a month, but it feels like forever to him.
They walk their gear out to the edge. Takaaki doesn't stray too far from him, setting up close by. With a practiced motion, he attaches the lure to the hook, and casts the rod into the water. Tsunehiro watches him and then picks out a similar lure for his own rod. He casts it into the water, traveling in a somewhat shaky arc, not landing as far as he was aiming for, but it’s not bad for his first time in a month.
He was expecting Takaaki to start pestering him once they got there, but surprisingly, he keeps quiet and they just stand together in companionable silence, only broken by the sound of the other anglers around them. Tsunehiro’s legs start to get tired after a certain point, but it hardly bothers him. It’s oddly relaxing. Even though nothing’s even happened yet, he’s kinda missed this.
But eventually, Takaaki breaks the silence.
"Hiro," he says. His voice is quiet but the suddenness of it makes Tsunehiro jump. "You know, if you ever have anything on your mind, you can always talk to me.”
“I know,” Tsunehiro says. He knows that Takaaki would be supportive no matter what he told him, which is precisely why he can’t confide in him any further. But now that he’s already come clean about his illness, he doesn’t know why Takaaki is telling him this. Does he think Tsunehiro is hiding something else?
“If you ever feel…” Takaaki trails off before continuing, “hopeless, or anything like that, then come to me first.”
Tsunehiro rolls his shoulder. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean,” Takaaki says, drumming his fingers anxiously on the fishing rod’s handle, “if you ever feel, even a little bit, like life isn’t worth living, then I want you to tell me. Don’t try to deal with it yourself.”
Tsunehiro lets the words sink in and shudders. "I wasn't planning on..."
He hasn’t actually considered killing himself in months.
But now that he thinks about it, that must have been what Takaaki thought he was trying to do, when he didn't respond to his calls or come back home last night, and when he was staring out into the water before Takaaki offered to take care of him, and when they first met, when Takaaki and the others fished him out of the water.
He wonders if Takaaki’s always been worrying about this, if that’s why he gets so anxious when Tsunehiro disappears without explanation and why he tries to take care of him as if Tsunehiro’s neglecting himself. He wonders if that’s why he took him in in the first place, because he thought he was trying to drown himself on purpose. Guilt boils up inside of him.
"Sorry for making you worry," Tsunehiro says uncomfortably.
"Don’t be sorry," Takaaki says.
Tsunehiro stares back out at the water, imagining the fish swimming beneath its surface without having any idea that they could be fished up and killed and eaten in the next moment. Must be nice to be that simple and carefree.
"I found my insurance card," Tsunehiro says eventually, because he feels like he should update him on that, at least.
"That's great," Takaaki says. Tsunehiro doesn't look at him, keeping his eyes on the water in front of them, but his voice sounds clearly relieved. "Did you make an appointment?"
Tsunehiro's grip tightens on the fishing rod. He doesn't know if Takaaki's even looking at him, but he shakes his head, no.
"Okay," Takaaki says. Apparently he was looking. "Well, the day is still young. After we get home, you can call them."
"I don’t—" Tsunehiro starts, but then he feels a bite on the lure, and loses his train of thought. "Wait, I think I got something!"
He starts pulling in the reel, steady but pausing every once in a while to let the fish catch up, like Ayukawa taught him. It doesn't feel that big, but Tsunehiro hasn’t caught anything in such a long time that he’d be overjoyed to fish anything. He's almost there, almost—and, nope, he feels it let go.
He sighs. "Got away," he says.
"Close," Takaaki says, sympathetically.
He pulls up the fishing line the rest of the way and checks the hook. At least the lure is still there, he checks, and then casts it back into the water.
Looking across the river, Tsunehiro relaxes his shoulders. He hopes the conversation doesn't steer back on topic. They wait in silence for a few more moments, and Tsunehiro is starting to think that maybe Takaaki will actually let him off the hook, but then, Takaaki says, "You'll make an appointment after we get back home, right?"
Tsunehiro stares at his Exceed, avoiding eye contact. He could lie right now, just to get him off his back, but then he'll be back to nagging him when they get home. Of course, it would be the smart decision to actually go to the hospital, but...
"I don't want to know," he says.
Takaaki waits for him. Tsunehiro shifts on his legs and continues.
"I don’t want to know how long I have left," he says. "The doctor I first went to, he gave me an estimate, but until I go I won't know if it was an under or overestimate or maybe even a misdiagnosis."
He glimpses briefly at Takaaki, to gauge his reaction. His mouth opens, like he wants to say something, but then he closes it and keeps listening.
"When they told me, I was surprised, but not much else. It wasn't like I had anything to live for. I wasn't talented at anything, I didn't have any dreams or anything I really enjoyed, and I didn't have any friends or people I felt really connected to."
His fingers tighten around the fishing rod, tapping the handle nervously.
"I always thought I would get into a good college and join the 'upper crust.' My mom thought so, too. She spent so much money to send me to cram school and buy me studying materials, and I thought I was doing pretty well, until I actually took the exam and didn't make the cut."
He kicks the railing lightly. "I lived my whole life looking down on other people. I thought they were stupid for spending their time on friends and hobbies or for chasing any dream other than a stable corporate job. I thought that they were wasting their time, that when I grew up I'd show them up, but I was wrong. Stupid, right?"
When he says it all out loud, it sounds really pathetic. This was his whole life, focused on a goal he didn't even care about because he thought it was the respectable thing to do, scorning other people so that he didn't have the room to feel jealous. And he couldn't even follow through with it.
"But you changed," Takaaki says, gently, "didn't you?"
Tsunehiro clenches and unclenches his hand. His vision is starting to swim in front of him. "After meeting you and the others, I finally... got to try the things I always thought were stupid. And I..."
He finally got to have friends who he could hang out with outside of school. To experience a sense of accomplishment for something other than a test score or grade. He got to experience what is was like to return home to someone who actually cared about him for who he was.
"I don't want to die anymore," he says quietly, and realizes that his eyes are starting to water. He tries to wipe his tears away, and he tries to suppress his sobs, but they still come out in ugly hiccups. He feels self-conscious of the people around them, who can probably hear him cry, and he feels self-conscious of Takaaki looking at him, kind and sympathetic. He feels like he keeps on showing Takaaki his most pathetic, ugliest moments, and it’s starting to feel humiliating.
Takaaki sets his fishing rod down securely against the fence and takes his coat off, wrapping it around him so that other people can't see his face. He puts his hands comfortingly on his shoulders. "Thank you for telling me," he says. "Do you want to go back to the car?"
Tsunehiro takes a moment to steady himself and breathes in deeply, trying to stifle the flow of tears, and then nods his head slowly. Takaaki picks up their fishing rods and equipment, hands Tsunehiro one of the lure boxes to carry, and wraps his arm around his shoulder. Keeping the jacket in place, he walks him back to the car. As long as Tsunehiro doesn't turn his head, he can't see anyone else's eyes past the hood of Takaaki's coat—he tries not to think about whether other people can notice him crying.
Takaaki opens the car door for him, and then closes it after he steps into the car. Tsunehiro kinda wishes he would just keep holding him, but he tries to suppress that thought. Takaaki climbs into the right side of the car, closes the door, and puts the key in without igniting the engine.
Tsunehiro stays silent, pulling the jacket close around him. He knows Takaaki washes it frequently, but beneath the mask of their laundry detergent, he can smell the faint scent of beer, fish, and river water. Not the most pleasant smell, but weirdly comforting.
"How are you feeling now?" Takaaki asks. “Do you want to go home?’
Tsunehiro just nods, eyes still red. His sobbing has calmed down to quiet sniffles, but he still can’t bear to talk.
Takaaki starts driving, and finally, they arrive at Takaaki's apartment. Their home. Tsunehiro closes the door behind them, standing awkwardly at the entrance.
Looking across the apartment, he feels overwhelmed by how he can see Takaaki and their life together in it. It’s endearing how Takaaki’s personality comes through in the fishing equipment and stuffed animals, and the wear in the tables and the aging seat cushions are a testament to his life here. And Tsunehiro sees the own mark he made on the apartment, with the futon and covers never being folded as neatly, the few mug rings he’s left regrettably on the table, and the tiny amount of his belongings scattered across the rooms.
"I'm going to warm up some milk,” Takaaki says, walking into the kitchen. “You can go sit down."
Tsunehiro nods mutely and sits down on the couch. He shifts Takaaki's jacket around so it's covering him like a blanket, and breathes in steadily.
Eventually, the microwave timer goes off. Takaaki walks back to hand him the mug of warmed milk, and then sits next to him on the couch with his own mug. Tsunehiro turns it around in his hands. It’s the same Kumanyan mug that isn't really his but he never sees Takaaki drinking out of anymore. He drank from it on the first day he came here, too, he remembers.
Tsunehiro blows on the milk to cool it down and takes a small sip. It’s still a little too hot, lightly burning his tongue, but it warms his insides comfortingly. Despite himself, he feels his eyes start to water again, and he sets the mug down on the table.
"Stop being so nice to me," he says weakly.
Takaaki sets his mug down, too, and looks at him curiously.
"The more you do, the more I like you, and the more it hurts," Tsunehiro says. "I don't actually want to move out. I want to stay with you. I want to go fishing with you, and go on dates with you, and wake up with you and eat meals with you and come back home to you, and—” He breathes in deeply. “I want to die with you by my side."
Takaaki's eyes widen at his sudden confession. "Then—"
"But if I die while we're living together, that'll be a big problem for you, right?" Tsunehiro says. He takes a deep breath and drinks a little more milk, so that the mug covers up his expression. He continues. "I don't want to hurt you. It's better that you don't waste your time on me, because there's nothing I can give you after I die."
"Don't say that," Takaaki says, an edge of anger in his voice. "It's not a waste."
"Then what would you call it?” Tsunehiro asks, looking down at his mug. “After I die, all your kindness is going to be for nothing. You're going to wish you never met me."
Takaaki exhales deeply. "I mentioned I had a little brother, right?"
Tsunehiro turns to look at him, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. He does remember Takaaki saying he passed on his old fishing equipment to his little brother. Come to think of it, it's kinda weird that he's never seen him visit, even though it sounded like they were so close. "You said he liked fishing too, right?"
Takaaki nods stiffly. "Well, he was also sick, like you,” he says. “Except he got hospitalized, and then he couldn't stand his illness, and he died."
"Oh," Tsunehiro says quietly, returning his gaze to the table.
Takaaki is really unlucky, isn't he? First his little brother, and now Tsunehiro. He's just digging up his buried trauma, clawing his nails into old wounds.
"Tell me, Hiro. Do you think the time I spent with him was a 'waste'?" Takaaki says, voice edged low, almost devoid of emotion.
Tsunehiro shakes his head slowly. "I don't," he says. “I don’t think that.”
"Then," Takaaki says forcefully, "why do you—"
"But that's different!" Tsunehiro protests. "Isn't it? He's your family. You’ve been with him his whole life. But for me, from the time you met me, the time you can spend with me can only be around two years, max. It’s not worth it.”
Takaaki is momentarily silent, so Tsunehiro turns to look at him and finds that he’s looking away from him at the table.
“Two years,” Takaaki repeats, voice softening. “Is that what the doctor said?”
“Yeah,” Tsunehiro says quietly.
Takaaki looks at him, desperate to reassure him. “I’ve had friendships that lasted less than two years,” he says. “And even if I feel a little lonely when I remember them, it doesn’t change the good times we had together.”
Tsunehiro shakes his head. “That’s different,” he says.
Takaaki pauses and tries again. “Everyone dies sooner or later,” he says. “People die unexpectedly, too. Suppose a friend you only met a year or so ago suddenly died in a car accident. Do you think that would make the time you spent with them a waste?”
“Of course not,” Tsunehiro says. He grips the mug so tight it starts to feel like it’s burning. “But that’s different, too. I know my expectancy. If I don’t do anything about it, it’s just cruel.”
“It’s not cruel,” Takaaki says. “You have as much of a right to friendship and happiness as everyone else does.”
Tsunehiro looks away and sets the mug down on the table. Does he? He doesn’t feel like he’s done a single thing in his life to make him worthy of anything.
"Think of it this way," Takaaki says. "If you found out I was going to die soon, what would you do?"
Tsunehiro grips his fingers into Takaaki's jacket and imagines it. Just thinking about it is unpleasant, but his answer is easy. "I’d want to stay with you.”
"Right?" Takaaki says. “So let me be with you, too.”
Tsunehiro shakes his head, pulling his knees in so that Takaaki’s jacket covers his face. It doesn't feel fair, that Takaaki can be there for the rest of Tsunehiro's life, but Tsunehiro can only be there for a small fraction of his. Takaaki’s already done the world for him, but Tsunehiro will never, ever be able to pay him back. He feels parasitic, leeching off of Takaaki’s kindness.
Takaaki looks up at the ceiling. “You said you didn’t want to hurt me, didn’t you? Well, if I’m going to be honest, it hurts much more that you don’t want to stay with me because you’re scared. It hurts that you can give up on me so easily.”
“It’s not easy,” Tsunehiro says, his eyes starting to water again. He’s not trying to distance himself from him because he doesn’t care. It’s because he cares that he’d rather give him up than hurt him more later. Why can’t Takaaki understand that?
“Then don’t hold yourself back,” Takaaki urges him, and wraps his arms around him, hugging him somewhat awkwardly from the side. He rubs circles in Tsunehiro’s back, comfortingly, and despite himself, Tsunehiro closes his eyes and leans back into him. He feels so selfish.
“What would hurt me the most is if you died without me there,” Takaaki murmurs. “If I knew you suffered alone in your last moments and I did nothing to help you. The guilt would haunt me for the rest of my life.”
Something prickles uncomfortably under Tsunehiro’s skin. “Don’t exaggerate,” he says quietly. “It’d be a few years, at most.”
“Then are you okay with that?” Takaaki asks. “Haunting me for a couple years?”
That’s not what he wants, either. He wants Takaaki to stop caring about him, but he’s starting to realize that at this point, it’s too late. There’s nothing he can do about it—he’s caught hook, line, and sinker. Tsunehiro breathes in, exhales, and shakes his head. “I’m not.”
Takaaki hugs him tighter. “Then you don’t have to run away from me anymore,” he says. “Let’s spend more time together. Let’s go fishing with everyone else, and eat more meals together, and spend time watching stupid videos together like before.”
If this is really what Takaaki wants, then maybe it’s fine. “Okay,” he says.
“And,” Takaaki says, voice wavering a little, “let’s go to the hospital, okay? Even if you don’t like their estimate, it’s better to see if there’s anything you can do about it.”
Tsunehiro hesitates longer but nods again, giving in. “Okay.”
Takaaki buries his face in Tsunehiro’s shoulder, hair tickling the crook of his neck. He feels warm and safe and anchoring. “Welcome home,” he says, and Tsunehiro finally smiles.