#cracktion

“I’m sorry,” Ramen tries.

“I said don’t.” Kaizo’s voice is deliberately distant but even in his exhausted state Ramen can sense the trace of vulnerability.

The blond leans back and sighs. “Fine. I won’t.”

Naturally, this makes Kaizo livid.

“What the hell…” he mutters softly, then whips around to face him, not even bothering to hide the tear tracks running down his cheeks. “What the hell were you thinking.”

Ramen attempts to shrug but his arms refuse to lift. He laughs ruefully, the sound never quite making it out, then gives back into gravity. “No think, only action,” he sighs, too tired to elaborate, though he knows Kaizo understands. There was no time for thought in the heat of battle, the other knows that well.

“Your instincts are screwed up,” Kaizo shakes his head in dark amazement. “What in the universe told you to throw yourself at a death crusher was a good idea.”

Ramen doesn’t have a response to that - Kaizo does have a point. He tries to think back to the moment, what exactly was going on that provoked him to jump in front of a giant machine that could easily slice him up and roll over his pieces on the ground. His mind is so foggy he can’t recall any of it.

Kaizo is side-eyeing him, correctly concluding that the blond has nothing to say for himself, and nods. “If you were trying for certain death, I’m sorry to say I had to spoil your plans.”

“Don’t.”

Kaizo raises an eyebrow. “Then?”

Ramen sighs. “I promise you, whatever was going through my head when I saw that tank, it wasn’t that.”

“Then why?”

“I don’t know,” Ramen admits. “Maybe so you wouldn’t?”

The logic is weak, but in complete honesty, it’s probably closer than any other response would be. Kaizo is silent, and Ramen closes his eyes again, trying to ignore the searing pain of his open wounds.

When he finally speaks up again, his voice is soft. “No. I would’ve gone right after you.”

Ramen freezes, then slowly opens his eyes to make sure Kaizo isn’t joking. Not that it’s a joking matter, and Kaizo was never one to joke anyway, not even a dark remark in a tense situation. Kaizo is staring off into the distance, and Ramen wonders if he was even aware of what he just said. When he doesn’t go on, Ramen breaks the silence,

“What?”

Kaizo murmurs something under his breath that Ramen can’t hear, then he manages to make out some words “long”, “alone”, “again”. He strains, but his mind and body refuse to cooperate and provide him more context to work with.

“Kaizo…”

“You can’t just leave me like that,” the other finally snaps. “I won’t let you.”

Ramen stares at him for a few moments. “For the longest time, you wanted to be alone-”

“And then you forced your way in anyway, didn’t you?” Kaizo glares. “Now you’re leaving me alone again. What kind of sadism…” he trails off and goes back to mumbling, this time completely inaudible.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Ramen speaks up.

“Guess your intentions weren’t enough,” Kaizo says bitterly.

The blond stops. As long as he’s known him, Kaizo has been stubbornly adamant on working alone. Living alone. Being alone. It doesn’t take a genius to put the pieces together and figure it’s a coping mechanism after losing far too many close people in his life. Ramen tried to fill in the gaps only for Kaizo to push him away time and time again. He knows he’ll never be enough to fill the hole. But at some point, Kaizo let him in. Now he’s almost left it again, leaving a void so big it’ll swallow Kaizo himself before it can seal over again.

Ramen would never forgive himself if he let that happen.

“I’m sorry,” he tries.

“Just don’t,” Kaizo says again.

“I was always here for you,” Ramen sighs, ignoring his body’s protests. “I made a mistake once. Never again. This time, I’m here to stay.”

“Always?” Kaizo echoes in disbelief.

Ramen internally rolls his eyes. “Why would I stay with you after a decade of coming back if I wasn’t?”

Kaizo stares. “Gosh. I’m an idiot.”

Ramen can’t help but laugh, which quickly turns into a strangled cough. He grunts, shifting to a slightly easier position to breathe, then wincing when the movement brings on another wave of agony. Kaizo watches him, expression uniquely worried, but Ramen manages to relax and the pain dulls down again.

“How long till we get to the station?” he asks, changing the topic.

Kaizo shakes his head and Ramen pauses.

“What?”

“I lost connection with the station. I can’t contact anyone.”

The blond stares at him, eyes wide. “We’re stranded.”

Kaizo bites his lip, running a glance up and down Ramen’s injuries. “Yeah, pretty much…”

Even as a high ranking official with years of experience and endurance, anyone would find themselves screwed over with wounds to this extent, let alone stranded in the middle of nowhere. Ramen can’t panic now, though more likely than not Kaizo has already been worrying for a while.

“At least you woke up,” Kaizo says quietly.

It’s a brief mental image: Kaizo, starved and exhausted, heading towards TEMPUR-A station, or maybe TAPOPS - he doesn’t even know which is closer here - alone with a corpse on board. Ramen resists the nausea that comes from the idea alone.

“I’ll be fine,” the blond promises, though it’s a weak one at best. “I’m right here.”

Kaizo nods, then shakes his head, then nods again. Ramen is confused for a moment until he sees the tears spilling out of his eyes and he ducks his head down, face crumpling.

Kaizo doesn’t let anyone see him cry. He suppresses his emotions with remarkable control and then hides, finally letting the tears overflow. In fifteen years his brother never once saw the tight grimace waver in weakness.

Ramen wasn’t supposed to see behind the facade. Kaizo still hasn’t forgiven him for it, but he can’t forgive Kaizo either, not when he tried to reach out and ease those muffled sobs only to be aggressively rebuffed.

But this time, he doesn’t turn around. He drops his head, swiping at his eyes, and Ramen aches against his limp limbs to rest a hand on his shoulder, or wrap him up in a close embrace, rubbing comforting circles into his back and reminding him he isn’t alone. Instead, he watches him from his immobile place on the sick bed, expression softened in concern for lack of the words he doesn’t have.