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scriveynerTitle: I Don't Believe in the Sun [12]
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Blind AU
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: T
Length: 1388
Summary: Masayoshi heard the click of the penlight.
Masayoshi heard the click of the penlight. “Nothing,” he said after a pause, when the blackness didn't shift or change at all.
There were a few more clicks, and an exhaled breath from the doctor. “Still nothing?” he asked. Masayoshi had never seen his face, but his voice was gentle and commanding. It was his fingers on Masayoshi's face, holding an eye open – holding a penlight, staring into the depth of his sightless eyes – and Masayoshi did his best not to flinch away.
“Nothing,” he whispered, and tried to close out the voice that said licked at the back of his mind, said, it's never coming back, never, this is your new reality, just accept it....
The doctor's fingers lifted from his face, released him and Masayoshi lowered his head, rubbed a hand across his eyes, blamed the wetness on the fact that he'd held his eyes open for so long without blinking. “I'll prescribe more drops,” the doctor said, further away – turned to a technician or a computer or a clipboard, it didn't really matter to Masayoshi. “It's curious, that you're not getting anything, because your eyes are reacting normally.”
Masayoshi nodded his head dryly, felt the hand reach out of the darkness and touch his own. Gotou. Masayoshi exhaled, put on a faint smile, and Gotou pressed the glasses he'd been wearing – dark glasses, to cover his poor eyes – into Masayoshi's open hand. “I'll have you back in two weeks, we'll see if there's any change by then.”
#
“So what do you want to do for lunch?” Gotou's voice was cheerful – forced cheerful, trying to distract him. Masayoshi stood outside, could tell by the air, exhaust and people and city, fresh in that it kept moving, not recirculated, cold, sterile. He tilted his head up, kept his voice level.
“I'd rather go home.”
Gotou's hand found his – they'd gotten him a stick, it helped him navigate by himself but he was still unsteady, and Gotou's hand went to that wrist. “Masayoshi,” he said, quieter, sympathetic.
He wasn't getting his sight back. He needed to accept this and move forward, but it was taking the breath out of his lungs. This entire time, these weeks of darkness he'd held on to the hope, tiny and bright, that the darkness would ease, that he'd come out of it, slow as it needed to be but that it too would pass.
Masayoshi switched his stick to his off-hand, took Gotou's hand, held it tight – and felt reassured. “Okay,” Gotou said. “Home, then. Still doesn't solve the problem of what to get for lunch.”
He let Gotou lead, tried to find where he had been this morning – bubbly and happy, stretching as he got out of bed, not even slowed down by getting his foot caught in the spill of covers and falling over. Gotou heard the thump and came running, he let Masayoshi feel his face in the mornings now, a double check, yes it's you, nothing changed in the night – and Masayoshi had accidentally gotten too close, their noses had brushed and they both jumped apart as if electrified.
Masayoshi had been happy this morning. Where did that go?
“Hey,” Gotou said, squeezed his hand, brought him back to the present. “You still with me, 'yoshi?”
“Yeah,” Masayoshi said idly, realized they were stopped. “Where are we?”
“Intersection,” Gotou said, and Masayoshi felt the breeze of traffic, heard the chatter of people around him. “You gonna be all right?”
No. “Yeah.” It was hard to keep his voice from trembling sometimes. “I'm just hungry, I think.”
#
They hadn't talked about his girlfriend. Gotou nodded to the doorman as he led them, Masayoshi's hand comfortable in his own, walking stick tucked under Masayoshi's arm. He'd been waiting – two weeks on now, for Masayoshi to ask, to open that dialog, but he never had. He didn't even know if Masayoshi believed what Sawada had said at this point, and he was terrified to start that conversation himself. Where did he even begin?
Masayoshi was unnaturally quiet as Gotou opened the apartment door, felt his hand catch at Gotou's sleeve, and when he looked back realized that there were tears sliding down from behind the dark glasses he now wore. Gotou startled, staring at Masayoshi – and then his face softened, and he caught Masayoshi's hand, pulled him into the apartment, and shut the door.
“Hey,” he said softly, caught Masayoshi's arm, and pulled him into a hug. “It's okay, you know?”
Masayoshi tilted his face into Gotou's shoulder, arms going around him tight. “It's not okay,” he said. “What if, what if-”
“Shh,” Gotou said, rubbed his back encouragingly.
“What if I never get to see Gotou-san's face again?” Masayoshi asked quietly. Gotou went a little still, pulled back slightly – Masayoshi's hands gripped the back of his shirt too tight, and he could see the flicker of fear that crossed his face that Gotou was going to run away from him again. Instead, Gotou caught one of Masayoshi's hand, eased it free, and brought it to his face.
“You can still see my face,” he said softly, resting Masayoshi's hand against his jaw.
Masayoshi quirked a sad smile. “It's not the same, Gotou-san.”
Gotou brushed his hand over Masayoshi's face, wiped the tears off his cheek. “No,” he said. “But that's okay. Just because you can't see me the way you used to, doesn't make me any less real.”
Masayoshi took a deep breath, shuddering in his lungs – but he smiled, and this time the smile outweighed the sad. Gotou felt his heart jump, just slightly. He took Masayoshi's face in both hands now, gentle and careful, felt Masayoshi go stock-sill as he softly kissed him.
It was an impulsive, probably stupid action – and it brought the tears fresh to Masayoshi's face. “Hey, hey,” Gotou said, taking the glasses off of Masayoshi's face, wiping his eyes.
“I love you, Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said quietly, and Gotou couldn't help the smile that caught on his face.
“I know,” he said. “Come on, let's get out of the genkan before you start snotting on my shirt, okay?”
#
On the couch now, cleared of the blankets that Gotou slept with, folded and left over the back and Masayoshi's face angled down to the hot tea Gotou had put in his hands. “The couch smells like you now, Gotou-san,” he said, as Gotou sat next to him.
“It's okay to be scared, you know,” Gotou said.
“I'm not supposed to be.” Masayoshi could feel the heat of the tea, the steam as it drifted up to him, it scent supposed to be calming.
“Well, that's stupid, and you're stupid, so I suppose that makes sense.” He felt the couch cushion shift, and if he thought he could get away with it Masayoshi would touch his fingers to his lips, as if he could still feel the rough brush of Gotou's own.
“Why did you kiss me?” he asked, quietly.
“Because,” and he felt Gotou's hesitation – but there was no lie in his response. “I wanted to.”
Masayoshi's mouth curved up into another smile, and he took a sip of his tea, feeling the heat slide across his tongue and numb it. “Tell me about your girlfriend?” he asked, and he heard Gotou take a deep breath. “If you want.”
“Okay,” Gotou said, after an even longer silence than the last. “But I don't know where to start.”
“The beginning's always a good place,” Masayoshi said, heard Gotou shift … and then felt his hand cover the one Masayoshi was leaning on.
“Okay,” Gotou said again, softly, and began to speak.
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Blind AU
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi
Rating: T
Length: 1388
Summary: Masayoshi heard the click of the penlight.
Masayoshi heard the click of the penlight. “Nothing,” he said after a pause, when the blackness didn't shift or change at all.
There were a few more clicks, and an exhaled breath from the doctor. “Still nothing?” he asked. Masayoshi had never seen his face, but his voice was gentle and commanding. It was his fingers on Masayoshi's face, holding an eye open – holding a penlight, staring into the depth of his sightless eyes – and Masayoshi did his best not to flinch away.
“Nothing,” he whispered, and tried to close out the voice that said licked at the back of his mind, said, it's never coming back, never, this is your new reality, just accept it....
The doctor's fingers lifted from his face, released him and Masayoshi lowered his head, rubbed a hand across his eyes, blamed the wetness on the fact that he'd held his eyes open for so long without blinking. “I'll prescribe more drops,” the doctor said, further away – turned to a technician or a computer or a clipboard, it didn't really matter to Masayoshi. “It's curious, that you're not getting anything, because your eyes are reacting normally.”
Masayoshi nodded his head dryly, felt the hand reach out of the darkness and touch his own. Gotou. Masayoshi exhaled, put on a faint smile, and Gotou pressed the glasses he'd been wearing – dark glasses, to cover his poor eyes – into Masayoshi's open hand. “I'll have you back in two weeks, we'll see if there's any change by then.”
“So what do you want to do for lunch?” Gotou's voice was cheerful – forced cheerful, trying to distract him. Masayoshi stood outside, could tell by the air, exhaust and people and city, fresh in that it kept moving, not recirculated, cold, sterile. He tilted his head up, kept his voice level.
“I'd rather go home.”
Gotou's hand found his – they'd gotten him a stick, it helped him navigate by himself but he was still unsteady, and Gotou's hand went to that wrist. “Masayoshi,” he said, quieter, sympathetic.
He wasn't getting his sight back. He needed to accept this and move forward, but it was taking the breath out of his lungs. This entire time, these weeks of darkness he'd held on to the hope, tiny and bright, that the darkness would ease, that he'd come out of it, slow as it needed to be but that it too would pass.
Masayoshi switched his stick to his off-hand, took Gotou's hand, held it tight – and felt reassured. “Okay,” Gotou said. “Home, then. Still doesn't solve the problem of what to get for lunch.”
He let Gotou lead, tried to find where he had been this morning – bubbly and happy, stretching as he got out of bed, not even slowed down by getting his foot caught in the spill of covers and falling over. Gotou heard the thump and came running, he let Masayoshi feel his face in the mornings now, a double check, yes it's you, nothing changed in the night – and Masayoshi had accidentally gotten too close, their noses had brushed and they both jumped apart as if electrified.
Masayoshi had been happy this morning. Where did that go?
“Hey,” Gotou said, squeezed his hand, brought him back to the present. “You still with me, 'yoshi?”
“Yeah,” Masayoshi said idly, realized they were stopped. “Where are we?”
“Intersection,” Gotou said, and Masayoshi felt the breeze of traffic, heard the chatter of people around him. “You gonna be all right?”
No. “Yeah.” It was hard to keep his voice from trembling sometimes. “I'm just hungry, I think.”
They hadn't talked about his girlfriend. Gotou nodded to the doorman as he led them, Masayoshi's hand comfortable in his own, walking stick tucked under Masayoshi's arm. He'd been waiting – two weeks on now, for Masayoshi to ask, to open that dialog, but he never had. He didn't even know if Masayoshi believed what Sawada had said at this point, and he was terrified to start that conversation himself. Where did he even begin?
Masayoshi was unnaturally quiet as Gotou opened the apartment door, felt his hand catch at Gotou's sleeve, and when he looked back realized that there were tears sliding down from behind the dark glasses he now wore. Gotou startled, staring at Masayoshi – and then his face softened, and he caught Masayoshi's hand, pulled him into the apartment, and shut the door.
“Hey,” he said softly, caught Masayoshi's arm, and pulled him into a hug. “It's okay, you know?”
Masayoshi tilted his face into Gotou's shoulder, arms going around him tight. “It's not okay,” he said. “What if, what if-”
“Shh,” Gotou said, rubbed his back encouragingly.
“What if I never get to see Gotou-san's face again?” Masayoshi asked quietly. Gotou went a little still, pulled back slightly – Masayoshi's hands gripped the back of his shirt too tight, and he could see the flicker of fear that crossed his face that Gotou was going to run away from him again. Instead, Gotou caught one of Masayoshi's hand, eased it free, and brought it to his face.
“You can still see my face,” he said softly, resting Masayoshi's hand against his jaw.
Masayoshi quirked a sad smile. “It's not the same, Gotou-san.”
Gotou brushed his hand over Masayoshi's face, wiped the tears off his cheek. “No,” he said. “But that's okay. Just because you can't see me the way you used to, doesn't make me any less real.”
Masayoshi took a deep breath, shuddering in his lungs – but he smiled, and this time the smile outweighed the sad. Gotou felt his heart jump, just slightly. He took Masayoshi's face in both hands now, gentle and careful, felt Masayoshi go stock-sill as he softly kissed him.
It was an impulsive, probably stupid action – and it brought the tears fresh to Masayoshi's face. “Hey, hey,” Gotou said, taking the glasses off of Masayoshi's face, wiping his eyes.
“I love you, Gotou-san,” Masayoshi said quietly, and Gotou couldn't help the smile that caught on his face.
“I know,” he said. “Come on, let's get out of the genkan before you start snotting on my shirt, okay?”
On the couch now, cleared of the blankets that Gotou slept with, folded and left over the back and Masayoshi's face angled down to the hot tea Gotou had put in his hands. “The couch smells like you now, Gotou-san,” he said, as Gotou sat next to him.
“It's okay to be scared, you know,” Gotou said.
“I'm not supposed to be.” Masayoshi could feel the heat of the tea, the steam as it drifted up to him, it scent supposed to be calming.
“Well, that's stupid, and you're stupid, so I suppose that makes sense.” He felt the couch cushion shift, and if he thought he could get away with it Masayoshi would touch his fingers to his lips, as if he could still feel the rough brush of Gotou's own.
“Why did you kiss me?” he asked, quietly.
“Because,” and he felt Gotou's hesitation – but there was no lie in his response. “I wanted to.”
Masayoshi's mouth curved up into another smile, and he took a sip of his tea, feeling the heat slide across his tongue and numb it. “Tell me about your girlfriend?” he asked, and he heard Gotou take a deep breath. “If you want.”
“Okay,” Gotou said, after an even longer silence than the last. “But I don't know where to start.”
“The beginning's always a good place,” Masayoshi said, heard Gotou shift … and then felt his hand cover the one Masayoshi was leaning on.
“Okay,” Gotou said again, softly, and began to speak.
