It had never really hit him, but he remembered having a moment.

That same night that he had thought about kissing Kisumi the one and only time, he sat on the floor of his room, digging through boxes, and had happened upon the photo album he kept all of his memories in. He'd always been one to make sure he captured all of the faces he came across in life, because it was one way to remind himself that, even though he couldn't often keep friendships, he was very capable of starting them. It was a bit of a double-edged sword sometimes, because he often looked back at his photo album and saw all of the people he'd left behind, disappointed, walked away from with the echoes of his empty promises that he "wasn't going to move again."

But settled in his dorm room, knowing that he wasn't relying on his parents to tell him where to go next, it was much easier to appreciate all of the friends he'd made, most especially because a handful of them had just re-entered his life, and he was excited about that. But then he'd flipped to the pictures of him and Kisumi and he'd rested there for a very, very long time.

Most of the pictures he had with Kisumi had been taken within the last couple of months before he'd moved away in middle school, and staring at them had pulled at something in his stomach that was both comforting and overwhelming. And he heard Kisumi's words from earlier that evening tumbling around in the back of his mind over and over and over again.

I'm so used to saying goodbye to you … It feels peaceful.

Not having to say goodbye feels peaceful.

… It feels peaceful.

They did absolutely nothing technically "productive." No homework, no practice, no errands, no cleaning, no acting like responsible adults. And yet it was probably the most instrumental day Asahi had ever experienced in his life. Because everywhere they went, Kisumi's hand was in his. Everything they talked about made him feel a kind of full that he'd never felt before. Everything they did was burned into his memory, every detail seized with urgency and painted tenderly onto a portrait that would hang in the back of his mind forever. Kisumi's satisfied smile. The flutter of the breeze through his hair. Each punctuation of his laugh or his giggle. The way his hand felt, tugging on Asahi's as he toted him down the sidewalk. The unapologetic way he brushed off every gaze that landed on them funny.

They stood chest to chest on the crowded train, grinning at each other with their fingers interlocked around the same handgrip. They crept down the street in front of Makoto's apartment building like seven-year-olds playing burglar as they sneakily stole Kisumi's car back, then laughed tears into their eyes all the way across town about how of course they should have known Haru wouldn't bother to go home last night. They strolled through Ueno Park and picked cherry blossom petals out of each others' hair. They bought anpan and melon buns and ran away from hungry ducks, then lounged around under the spring sun, enjoying the unpressured time of an empty Saturday. This was about when Ikuya finally sent them the video he'd promised, and they leaned their heads together to watch on Kisumi's phone.

"Oh my god," Asahi moaned, pressing his palms to his burning cheeks while Kisumi giggled himself to tears.

"Hee hee heeee, you're so drunk," he gasped, pressing the play button to watch the video a second time.

Asahi sputtered, stomach coiled. "Me? You're the one that- … Oh, Jesus Christ!" He looked away, holding his hand over his eyes, because it was simply too embarrassing. He could have blamed Kisumi all he wanted to, but according to the video footage, he'd needed absolutely no prompting to get his body to move like that.

He was feeling very strangely conflicted. Part of him wanted to take the video and stick it into a secret pocket to pull back out later and watch it on repeat for a few hours. That dance was still his favorite part about last night — maybe besides the goodnight kisses at the very end. But for a moment that cozy, he would have much rather he and Kisumi had been some kind of alone and not at a public rooftop bar with all of their friends watching.

"Get rid of it," he groaned, when he heard Kisumi press play a third time.

"No," he stated, still giggling. "I'm definitely keeping this. Damn, Asahi, you can really move."

"You're a brat."

Kisumi hummed as though not really listening. "I'm not so bad either, if I do say so myself. We look good."

"You know what, fucker," Asahi said, snapping up and pulling his own phone out of his pocket to shoot Ikuya a text. "That's not the only video they got of you last night." He chuckled evilly as he pressed send and waited for the glory of blackmail possibilities to come.

"Whatever ammo you think you're going to get on me, I wouldn't hold my breath," Kisumi said, smile pacified and unbothered as his eyes stared at the image of their bodies moving together. "I'm quite unashamed, if you haven't noticed."

Asahi wanted to make a smartass comment and call him another name or two, but he found himself just simply smiling warmly at the side of Kisumi's face. They were still sitting in the grass, Kisumi with his knees bent to prop up the backs of his hands for a decent viewing angle of his phone. Asahi had one leg folded under the other, leaning his weight on his palm while he left his other arm draped over the knee he had up. There was enough space between them that anyone passing by wouldn't give them a second thought, but they were also close enough that Asahi could have leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Kisumi's cheek. He didn't, but it was nice to bask in the warm temptation of wanting to.

Before this moment, he probably would have brushed the thought away the same way he had the first time it had come around, but now he was living in a surreal space of time that wasn't all that unlike the floaty dream state he'd been in when Kisumi had pulled him out of his seat to dance last night. And he was okay with living there. It was even nicer now that he had his full cognizance about him. He'd known exactly what he was doing the night before, but he had done it with a careless attitude that had been given to him by some outside force. In this moment right here, he elected to have that careless attitude all on his own, and it felt extraordinarily empowering. So it was possible to be with Kisumi the way he wanted to be with Kisumi, and it was a sickeningly sweet feeling to know, now for certain, that Kisumi wanted to be with him too.

And he got lost for a moment, just thinking about what all that meant, what all that could mean, while he sat there watching Kisumi smile at his phone. He could run his fingers through Kisumi's hair. Whenever he wanted to, he could. He could make a habit out of walking with his arm around Kisumi's shoulders, and in fact, he most definitely would. He could dance with Kisumi more often in that same rather intimate way he'd never expected to enjoy so much. Though, they might have to keep that private. And in fact, he wouldn't mind keeping that private. He wouldn't mind getting into some other things that probably needed to be kept private either. And once that door was opened, his thoughts went down a rabbit hole that, just the other day, would have been frightfully forbidden for him to get lost in.

"I think you're beautiful too."

Asahi blinked, focusing his gaze again, and realized his cheeks had gone a bit warm. Kisumi perked up a smart little grin and turned his purple stare over to the right. Asahi took a moment to breathe, whisking his previous thoughts away, and pursed his lips.

"That's not what I was thinking about."

Kisumi made a pouting face. "Well it should have been."

Asahi grinned. "You are absolutely rotten. I'm not going to give you the satisfaction, do you hear me? You will not be spoiled on my watch."

Kisumi hummed a light sigh, smiling again as he looked away. "I'm not so sure about that."

"You think I'll cave?"

"In an instant."

"Try me."

Kisumi turned, pressing his palm into the grass to lean in closer to Asahi's face. "Tell me I'm beautiful," he said with an all-knowing smirk, his lavender eyes staring intentionally down at Asahi's lips.

The pressure of his presence in that moment became an enveloping shroud that sparked a warm tingle in Asahi's skin. His blush deepened with a rich heat he felt all the way to his very core, and try to ignore it as he might, there was no possible way he could get past the way it started up his pulse like he was in the middle of swimming a race.

"Asahi," Kisumi said, the soft tenor of his voice like a chime in Asahi's ears. He tilted his head innocently to the side, nose only inches away. "You think I'm beautiful, right?"

It was exhilarating, and terrifying, and absolutely blissful. He was so tempted to lean in, and still, just sitting in that temptation was somehow the best feeling. Maybe because it was Kisumi — a perpetual tease — he knew how to manipulate every given situation to lean in his favor, and he had no problem monopolizing that gift without hesitation. His eyes were so purple, so crystal clear, and yet so shady all at the same time. He was an attractive being. Quite the opposite of someone like Makoto, Kisumi knew he was attractive, and he also used that to his advantage. Asahi wasn't going to complain about that. Kisumi was smart.

"You are absolutely beautiful," he agreed, leaning in to finally claim that kiss, but Kisumi moved back before he could get there.

He chuckled, smile crafty and glittering. "Told you."

He stood and tucked his phone in his pocket, turning his face to the sun for a moment to the let the breeze brush his hair back. It was disappointing, but all Asahi could do was lean back on both palms and admire him.

"Are we leaving?"

"Our park scene has run its course," Kisumi said, propping his hands on his hips. He smiled down at Asahi. "Time to utilize a different setting."

"Like what?"

He shrugged. On the outside it was casual, but reading closely into it, he clearly already had something in mind. "We'll go wherever the wind takes us. Maybe we'll end up at the theater, or at the top of a skyscraper, or someplace quiet … like an apartment."

His smile turned up at the corners, an unspoken suggestion, and Asahi pushed himself to his feet, playing off the way his spine shivered as though it never happened. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and held his elbow out for Kisumi to thread his arm through, and they walked in step out of the park.

"Anywhere the wind takes us huh?"

"You never know."

"Something tells me you always know."

Kisumi grinned, eyes staring out ahead of them. "I will not confirm or deny that. We should go on a date sometime."

"I thought this was a date."

"Okay, I'm sorry, let me rephrase. You should ask me on a date sometime."

"Ah." Asahi nodded, squinting in the sunlight. "There it is."

"I mean really. I can't carry this whole relationship on my back. I'm going to need you to step it up just a little bit."

Asahi scoffed, shooting an offended glare at that smirk. "I was the one who kissed you first."

"On the cheek."

"You had the dumbest grin on your face."

"I don't know what that has to do with anything."

"It has literally everything to do with all of this."

"You could have stayed at my place last night," Kisumi said, looking up at the sky as though only half interested in the conversation.

"We're going to your place now, aren't we?" Asahi broke away as they walked up to the car.

Kisumi raised his eyebrows, grin stretching as he unlocked the doors. "Is that what's happening?"

Asahi huffed out a breath of annoyance, and Kisumi giggled. They simultaneously ducked down and slid into their seats, closing the doors behind them.

"You were the one who said it," Asahi said, buckling his seatbelt.

Kisumi made a face, head tilting as he put the car in drive and eased out into the traffic flow. "Did I though?"

"You play way too many games."

"I like to have fun."

"So I noticed. It's going to bite you in the ass one day, you know."

"I don't know what you mean."

Asahi leaned his elbow on the door, staring out at the Tokyo rush passing alongside them. "You know exactly what I mean."

"I like the way you flirt."

Asahi smiled to himself, heart pumping excitedly. He didn't allow himself to get wrapped up in the insinuations of where they were going. He might not have been able to keep his cool otherwise. He brushed a finger over the bridge of his nose.

"Who said I was flirting with you?" he responded, turning his grin across the car.

Kisumi was back to wearing that smart little smirk. "You flirt with me all the time," he said, eyes glancing down as his phone lit up where he'd placed it in the cup holder.

He gave Asahi one last devious smile, purple eyes picking him all the way apart in an instant. Then he turned his gaze back to the road and swiped his thumb across his phone before lifting it to his ear.

"Hey, Mom."

Asahi bit down his grin, shivering in the aftermath of that glance. He looked back out the passenger window and pressed his nose against his knuckles. The sidewalks were teeming over with pedestrians, just as usual on any given day, and yet he still managed to pin down a handful of individuals in the crowds: a hurried mom dragging her stumbling toddler behind her, a stray cat tight-roping along the very edge of the curb, a gaggle of preteens disrupting the flow of traffic by cutting early across the road, a lovesick couple giving goodbye kisses on the corner. He watched them for a moment, or as long as he could see them before the corner was dragged out of sight. The way the woman stood on her toes, staring up at her handsome fellow, eyes misty and shining, smile warm and completely enraptured, was not all that different from the way Kisumi had always looked at Asahi. And now that he was seeing it from a different perspective, he was that much more surprised at himself for having so thoroughly missed it when all the signs had been sitting right in front of his face.

He wondered what his younger, middle school self would say right now, how he'd react. If he knew that one day Kisumi was going to end up being his best friend and then some, he wondered how much time twelve-year-old Asahi would have spent trying to hate that pink-haired little boy. Kisumi hadn't changed, not a single bit, but things were definitely different here — eight years into the present.

He sighed to himself, then found his eyes glancing back across the car, because the atmosphere had gone strangely stiff.

Kisumi was no longer smiling. Instead, his eyes were completely glazed over, wide, as though locked in a trance, and he quite clearly was not breathing. The color had gone from his face.

Asahi frowned, sitting forward. "Kisumi?"

He said nothing, just sat frozen as though someone had pressed pause on him. Asahi couldn't pick up if his mother was still talking on the other end of the line. His eyes glanced ahead just as the traffic light coming up turned red and the delivery truck several yards in front of them chugged to a halt. He looked back. Kisumi was still frozen, and, through his eyes, Asahi could see the spreading thorns of a crushing fear burrowing somewhere deep within him, and that alone seized his chest with a cold dread he'd never experienced before. The expression on Kisumi's face was intensely foreign.

"Kisumi," he called again, this time a little more urgently, because they were still moving at the same speed.

His eyes darted forward again. The back of the truck was coming up really close, really fast. His heart jumped up to his throat.

"Kisumi!"

Kisumi's hands dropped slowly. He pulled the phone away from his ear and took his fingers off the steering wheel. He turned his palms over and stared at them with a gaping gaze that quietly began to flood with tears. A crease formed on his brow.

"Oh god," he whispered.

"Kisumi, the brakes! Stop the- … Fuck!"

Asahi lunged over and yanked up the emergency brake. An ear-grating screech lifted from the tires as the car pitched forward and fishtailed out into a spin. Asahi's hand reflexively grabbed the wheel and in all of the three seconds it took for the whirling motion to lurch to a halt, he was absolutely sure that a) he was going to throw up, and b) they would die immediately after.

The sudden jerk of the car forced the breath out of his chest as his seatbelt locked and yanked him back. His eyes popped open, wide and more alert than they'd ever been in his life. All he could see for a moment was the quick dissipation of smoke leaving the air. The ghastly stench of burnt rubber stung his nose, and all of a sudden his ears were filled with aggressive honking.

He blinked at the Nissan facing them, the nose of the front bumper hardly a foot from where they were stopped. The driver was clearly pissed off, as he was flailing his arms around in a fury, and he whipped his car out to speed around them. The line of cars that had slammed their brakes behind him started to follow his lead, every single one of them honking their disapproval.

Asahi's body shook, muscles completely coiled as though he'd gotten stuck exactly half a second before springing loose. His fist was still holding the steering wheel in a death grip. He slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder. They were centimeters away from the delivery truck that paid them absolutely no mind and pulled forward with the flow of traffic as everything moved again.

Asahi looked forward again, gasping as his chest began to pull in air like he'd never breathed before. "Holy shit. Fuck."

The residual panic rippled through his body in one wash, and he finally found motion in his limbs. He threw his arms up, fingers gripping his hair.

"Holy motherfucking goddammit. Shit!"

They were still being honked at, still a standstill being aggressively bypassed. He reached out and turned on the hazard lights, then looked to his right.

Kisumi was breathing now, but it was not normal, and something told him it had nothing to do with them nearly getting smeared across the busy city street. His chest was heaving slowly as though he was trying to take in air he couldn't find, and he was still staring down at his trembling hands, eyes shining with tears that hadn't yet fallen.

"Kisumi."

"Oh my god …"

"Kisumi!"

Kisumi's head shook, and it had nothing to do with responding to Asahi.

Asahi's throat seized. "Shit."

He bared his teeth and unbuckled his seatbelt, then pushed his way out of the car. His eyes glanced over the roof at the vehicles flying by on, what was now, Kisumi's side of the road. He huffed a breath out of his nose and poked his head back in the car.

"Get over here. I'm driving." He reached over and unbuckled Kisumi's seatbelt, then tugged on his arm to force him into motion. He moved, but dazedly, stumbling clumsily as his quivering body climbed over the center console and dropped into the passenger's seat.

"Asahi," he said in a trembling moan as Asahi leaned over to buckle him in. His eyes were still trapped in an entirely different world.

"Shut up for a minute," Asahi breathed. "You almost fucking killed us, goddammit."

He was very aware that in this moment Kisumi was a splintering toothpick that probably needed to be handled gently, but the boiling fight-or-flight response in Asahi's stomach wasn't the smallest bit eager to coddle him right now. They at least needed to get out of the middle of the road.

He closed the door once Kisumi was settled, and got in through the back seat, also climbing over the center console to get to the front. A heavy breath left his lungs when he sat himself down, but he didn't pause to calm down. His hands were still shaking when he took the wheel and put the car in reverse. He backed the car past the intersection and then threw it in drive and turned down the side street, letting a ripple of relief catch the nausea in his stomach now that they were facing the right direction. His eyes scanned the passing buildings, and he pulled into the first parking lot he found at a corner gas station.

He put the car in park, turned it off, and rubbed an agitated hand through the back of his hair. He took a moment to concentrate on the tightness of his chest and exhaled another long slow breath, before finally looking over at Kisumi, whose face was buried in his hands, back hunched as he pressed his elbows into his knees.

"What happened?" Asahi said, his voice rougher than he would have liked it to be, but it was too late for that now.

Kisumi's shoulders shook. He turned his face away, knee bouncing anxiously.

"Kisumi, I swear to god. We were centimeters from getting flattened just now. What happened?"

"Hayato." It was the only thing he said, and it came out both deathly quiet and brimming with fear.

Asahi's shoulders dropped, lips turning down as he watched Kisumi's body swell with grief and fidget with a restlessness that was entirely subconscious. He shook his head again and steepled his fingers to cup his hands around his nose. The tears spilled over quietly, and it produced the most disconcerting feeling of foreboding that Asahi had ever happened upon. A pit of terror started forming in the very bottom of his stomach. That nauseous intensity sprang back up.

"What happened?" he asked again, voice much more subdued now, because he suddenly realized the gravity of the moment, where he was already standing very precariously on a field of eggshells.

Kisumi hiccuped a breath, but seemed unable to speak. His shining eyes just stared out into that same void, looking dread dead in the face.

Unsure what else to do in this moment, Asahi found himself placing a hand on Kisumi's shoulder and a painful knot swelled in his throat in response to the violent tremble his palm met. He grimaced.

"Kisumi, what happened to Hayato? Is he hurt?"

Kisumi shook his head. "No," he moaned, and it wasn't the least bit reassuring. He sucked in a sharp breath and rubbed the tears from his face, but it hardly helped. His eyes and face were all red at this point.

"They took him to see a doctor when he had his fever," he forced himself to say, voice shaking as though it would snap at any second. "It wasn't going away, so they did some scans." His blank slate of an expression turned into a grimace of pain, as though someone he loved and trusted had just run him through with a spear. He threw his hands over his face again and his next words came out strained. "They found that … They found …"

He shook his head again, and his shoulders tensed, and this was even more disconcerting. He hardly needed to continue, but Asahi opened his mouth to ask the question anyway.

"What is it?"

"Neuroblastoma." His voice trembled as he said it, thick with tears and a hopelessness that pulled that anchor deeper.

Something in Asahi's spine pinched. He barely noticed himself speaking again. "Cancer?"

A nod was the only thing Kisumi could manage. His body tightened into a ball as he pulled his feet up onto the seat and buried his face in his knees. He was quiet, which didn't do anything but coil Asahi's intestines, because this seemed like the most hopeless response Kisumi could have given. Asahi looked forward, palm sliding an inch or two down Kisumi's shivering back. He wasn't sure what to say. Was there something he could say? What do you do in response to something like this?

"M- … Maybe they misdiagnosed him or something," he found himself saying. "I'm sure it happens a lot, right?" It sounded stupid coming out of his mouth, but he didn't know what else to do, and Kisumi took a rattling breath anyway.

"They checked three times already," he said, voice muffled. "My mom didn't want to tell me until they were sure." He paused, and during the passing moment of silence, a noise escaped him that Asahi couldn't describe. It just sounded like pain. "They had already gotten back the first test results when I went to visit, and they didn't say anything to me," he moaned, and this was followed up by the very clear sounds of his breath hitching as he cried.

Asahi's head tilted, fingers going cold, because he changed his mind. This was worse than the silence. He felt his throat swell with yet more dread, and he didn't want to ask his next question. Really, and most especially in hindsight, he shouldn't have asked at all. Though, also in hindsight, it wouldn't have changed anything about the situation.

It was hard to inhale. His breath was so thin. "What stage?" he whispered.

And this was when Kisumi's broken, breathless crying turned into outright sobs, and he didn't answer the question for the longest time. Asahi's fingers curled around the back of his shirt absently. He didn't know he was doing it. He just stared out the windshield and watched oblivious bystanders wander in and out of the convenience store and leisurely fill up their cars with gas. They were having a nice day, picking out sodas, and checking their watches, and squinting thoughtfully into the sunlight. Until just a moment ago, Asahi and Kisumi had been having a nice day too.

"Three."

Asahi almost didn't catch it. It came out so fragmented, just barely whispered through the down-swell of an exhale. It only just caught his ear, and yet the impact that it had forced him to rest his shoulders back against the seat. It just felt like cold oozing down his body from the crown of his head as though someone had poured a bucket of frozen slime over him. He tried to swallow but it didn't work, and his lips trembled but he couldn't part them. There was nothing to say. Absolutely nothing.

His grip tightened on the back of Kisumi's shirt and he pulled him as close as he could, turning like a zombie to wrap his arms around him and hold him to his chest. Kisumi's only response was to continue crying, leaving Asahi nothing to do but clench his jaw and stare over his head.

Sorry.