"I'm serious about snowboarding. Maybe it doesn't look like a realistic option to you, but I want to make it a profession! I've been training and practicing for years, under a professional coach now, so it is possible!"
Yes, indeed. Ryuu may be the type to lose interest quickly, but he was very serious about this particular hobby. Io knew this, and took Ryuu's side when he voiced his aspirations to his parents.
Ryuu had worked hard to get into the college he wanted to; the one with an active sports program and top-notch training conditions. He did his best in the practice, stuck to his program after school and even took good care of his studies to stay in the school and be allowed to take part in the program. The odds of making it into professionalism were bigger and bigger each day. Io was proud of Ryuu and thought his parents would be, too, if they ever bothered to find out what went on in their son's life. He did have a plan for his future, whether they approved of it or not.
He also had a very supportive boyfriend, whether they approved of it or not.
The two had always been there for each other, and would be, in each other's ups and downs. They may have lived physically far apart, but were emotionally close as ever.
Ryuu was there with Io when he started his own business and it blossomed, and there for Io when his hectic lifestyle of juggling between university and his company almost drove him to a burnout. Io was there with Ryuu when he went on and on about the new friends he made at school, and there for Ryuu when he just barely didn't make it to the podium in the biggest competition of the year.
Overall, both their lives went well. By the time they graduated from their respective schools, Io's marketing company was already well known in the stock market and Ryuu was the newest addition to Japan's Olympic team. They moved in together, and while their jobs made the occasions they could spend together scarce, it was an improvement to having lived on opposite sides of the country for so long. They were both happy with their lives separately, and happy with their life together.
But life had a habit of throwing banana peels on the Rainbow Road. Fair only in a way that it was unfair to everyone. Nobody could predict diseases. Who would fall ill, when, or how. Nobody could prevent it.
One could only count the odds. But merely knowing numbers didn't really mean anything when the most important person in your life was lying in his bed weak, vulnerable, sweaty, and barely able to move. One could stay up day after day, night after night making calculations and research and come to the conclusion that mathematically speaking, all things considered, the possibility of his survival with or without the right care and medication at the right time was so-and-so many percent – But that was all useless in the end. In the end, all that mattered was whether or not the other one would ever get better. Any better. At this point, when all hope of a complete recovery had been thrown into a trash can ages ago, the decease not getting worse was considered good news. News of even the slightest improvement would be taken in as a miracle. Something they no longer believed in.
And now, as Io sits at his terminally ill boyfriend's side, knowing that it may or may not be the last time he sees life in those once so cheerful brown eyes, he doesn't know what he feels. He doesn't know if he doesn't feel anything anymore, or if the fear and sense of finality have become so constant that they're a part of his personality now. It has been like this for a couple of weeks now – he's not sure for how long exactly – and every night is literally like the last. The initial painful. teary talks and good night wishes have become fewer and fewer as they have gotten used to this horrible situation that nobody would like to become the norm.
They have chatted for hours. Ryuu's voice is coarse, his breaths are slow and heavy, and Io knows he would love to be his former, expressive self, but his body won't allow anything too big. Anything big enough to allow Ryuu to be completely himself. But his mind works as it used to: he can still make jokes, complain and flirt, and for that Io is grateful. Ryuu must be, too.
Ryuu yawns – as well his weakened jaws allow – and then smiles. Ryuu still smiles a lot. He flinches, winces, sometimes even cries out every time Io touches or moves him, so his nerves must be the only thing that still fucking works. They haven't been able to sleep in the same bed or be physically as close as they'd like to for ages; Ryuu's sensory system has become too sensitive and would only cause him great agony. But he still smiles a lot. Because he's Ryuu. Io isn't sure if he could keep doing that if he was in Ryuu's place.
People liked to assume Io would trade places and be the sick one if he could. It sounds like the selfless thing to do at first. But in reality, he wouldn't; the pain he feels is also awful. He wouldn't want Ryuu to go through that. After all, he is going to be the one to keep living after Ryuu is gone. It all doesn't feel real at all.
"Your ability to keep smiling so genuinely is incredible", he says quietly, affection with a dash of sadness present in his voice. Ryuu has closed his eyes, and when he responds, Io can hear that he's about to drift to sleep.
"I want your memories of me in my last days to look happy. You deserve that much", he mumbles, and lets sleep take over him. Io stays on his side for a while longer. Ryuu looks so much more relaxed and peaceful when he sleeps.