"You're brightening my day," the old lady rasped as he entered the hospital room with the vase of flowers.
"Our day," her roommate added.
Takumi smiled gamely. "My pleasure, ladies."
Akira's grandmother chuckled and gestured to the chair next to her bed. "Sit down, young man."
He placed the vase on the bedstand and obeyed.
"You've made me a celebrity here," she whispered conspiratorially.
"Really?" Takumi played along.
She placed a hand over her chest. "The nurses are gushing. About how an old granny like me has Matsumoto Takumi visiting."
Takumi insisted, "You're not THAT old."
Akira's grandmother arched an eyebrow and he couldn't help but chuckle, despite the background of gloominess.
Her health had deteriorated with a suddenness which was swift as it was ravaging. A heart destroyed by complications and old age. Medication and surgery had put the inevitable at bay.
Akira had to watch his once sturdy and formidable grandmother succumbed to frailty with such speed that Takumi was afraid he wouldn't be able to bear it.
Takumi himself almost couldn't.
But Akira remained infallible and stoic. He juggled work and the commute to visit her with seeming ease. He made arrangements for her at the hospice and each visit to the hospital with meticulous care.
It caused an unease within Takumi.
No one was that unaffected.
No one could be so strong.
He wondered what if, what if-
"Before he comes back," she interrupted his thoughts. "How is Akira doing?"
"Very well," he replied truthfully.
She studied him for a moment and then smiled sadly. "Too well?"
Nothing escaped her. Takumi looked down at his hands uncomfortably.
"He's always like this," she sighed. "From when he was a child."
He was at loss for words. However, it was clear that they both had the same concerns. Takumi just didn't know how to help.
She held out her hand and he was surprised.
Slowly, Takumi took the small and bony hand into his. It was surprisingly warm.
Embarrassingly, it was his hand which was trembling while hers remained steady.
"Akira is so driven…always trying so hard," she said in a quiet voice which was not unlike her grandson's.
"I know."
Her eyes were looked at him and he didn't know what they held. Sadness, hope, affection or a combination of all of them.
"You're the only person he's ever allowed to get close," she whispered.
Takumi couldn't breathe. His eyes misted.
"Thank you."
He tightened his hold on her hand. Takumi wanted to promise to her that he would always take care of Akira. He would never let him down. He would always, ALWAYS...
She smiled. "I know."
Akira entered the room and the moment was broken.
She gave Takumi one last meaningful smile and let his hand go.
Takumi swallowed to try to regain himself.
She addressed her grandson. "Can I leave soon?"
"There is no rush," Akira replied sternly.
She made a disagreeable grumble.
The conversation turned to the mundane.
xxxxxxxxx
Two days later, Takumi got a call when he just stepped into his apartment.
He picked it up immediately.
"Akira?"
"She passed away yesterday."
Akira said it with such calmness that anyone would be fooled. Takumi knew better.
Each word was enunciated too perfectly. Not so much a sentence but single syllables strung together with effort to give it sense.
"I am so sorry," he said gravely. There wasn't anything which he could say to Akira which could take away the sorrow of the situation.
Another pause. Then Akira spoke.
"Could you come? I-" his voice broke.
"Yes," Takumi answered without hesitation.
Akira let out a breath which shuddered. "Thank you."
"I'll be right there," Takumi promised.
"Thank you," Akira repeated and then said almost mechanically, "I need to go. Arrangements."
"Okay," Takumi said softly and they hung up.
He didn't notice the tears which had strewn down his cheeks. Takumi wiped them away angrily.
He would miss the old lady, who had been so unconventional and so kind.
But there was no comparison to the grief which Akira must be suffering.
He needed Takumi right now and Takumi wouldn't fail him.
Even if Akira broke apart, Takumi would put his pieces together.
xxxxxxxx
It was a blurry sequence of events.
Within him, a dam was built to hold back an emotional reservoir of grief he was almost afraid of.
The last night her body spent in her own futon was surreal. Akira started talking to his grandmother as if she was alive.
He explained to her that he had taken care of all the arrangements and informed their kin. He also made sure to inform her friends (thankfully one of them had given him her number) who he knew were more of a family to her than their blood relatives.
Also, she didn't need to worry about him or his work.
He didn't reminisce. He stuck strictly to the order of events which would unfold because he knew that she liked everything to be in order.
She laid there immobile and cold. But he could almost hear her grumble an approval.
The next day, once the people started to arrive and the rites commenced at the temple, Akira turned into an automaton.
He barely remembered the wake, the night vigil and the funeral.
His uncle, his grandmother's only other child, arrived the following day as well. Akira almost couldn't recognize him. His chief concern was the funeral expenses, to which Akira tersely responded that it was not his uncle's problem.
He vaguely recalled bowing to her friends, his colleagues and an assortment of relatives he didn't really know.
He called Takumi in the middle of the day. Only when he could speak anything other than polite murmurs of thank you in response to messages of condolences.
It was the only conversation he could remember vividly.
The first sign of a crack.
As he bowed and faced the next visitor stoically, Akira knew one thing.
When he fell apart, the only person who could be near him was Takumi.
xxxxxxxx
Takumi arrived when the visitors had thinned out. He stayed outside at the temple's grounds until a few old women, presumably grandmother's friends, left the hall.
Then there was only Akira. Standing before her portrait.
He was mildly surprised that there were no other relatives there.
Takumi entered and their eyes met.
They exchanged bows in silence. He performed the rituals to pay his respect with care.
He promised her that he would do his damn best to look after her grandson.
"Are you..coping?" Takumi asked. Because asking if Akira was fine seemed like such a stupid question. He obviously wasn't.
Akira couldn't seem to utter a word. He nodded.
Takumi fell into silence as well.
To this day, it would be the longest time they did not speak to each other while being together.
The hours they spent sitting at the temple. When they went back to the house to change. The funeral rites and procession which took place the next day.
Takumi was not family so he stayed on the fringes.
He was aware of the furtive and shocked glances sent his way.
He could hear the sympathetic and cruel words spoken around him amongst the relatives.
"The poor grandson. He's alone now, isn't he?"
"Handsome young man. Too bad about his parents, you know."
"She'll probably leave the house to him. Her son must be so mad!"
"Hey, isn't that the model?"
"No way. Is it?"
Takumi shot them daggers behind his large sunglasses. He wanted to shout at them. He wanted to strangle them with his expensive designer necktie.
It showed him harshly what Akira once said. It was his grandmother who rescued him when he was a child, when nobody would.
Ironically, it was grandmother's friends who were the saving graces.
"We are so thankful that you are here for Akira," one granny whispered to him.
"Yuko loves her grandson very much," another sniffed.
"He really needs a friend now."
"I made a promise to grandma," Takumi told them as if it was a state secret. "I'm going to keep it."
xxxxxxxx
The cremation was the worst part.
Akira nearly couldn't hold it together. Then when he wanted to cry, the dam pushed back and almost choked him instead.
When it was over and everyone left, all that remained was him sitting at the dining table of his grandmother's house. He would take her urn back with him to his apartment in the city until it could be buried in the family plot.
Takumi sat next to him.
A presence which comforted and possibly kept Akira intact until now.
Those large eyes, now concerned, watched him closely.
Takumi broke, no, shattered the muteness between them.
"Hey, it's just me here."
The dam inside Akira cracked and collapsed. The torrent of emotions flooded him with a vengeance he couldn't-
He just couldn't.
Head in his hands, he wept hard as the tears poured.
An arm came around his shoulders. A hand stroke his hair.
Takumi's voice murmuring kind, gentle words he couldn't make out.
Akira didn't know how long he sat there and cried. Takumi never once left his side.
When he was sobbed himself into exhaustion, Takumi helped him up the stairs and forced him to lie in his futon.
"Sorry," he croaked.
"Dummy. Whatever for," Takumi scolded him lightly.
"Thanks. For being here," Akira was exhausted but he needed to let Takumi know. "For everything."
"Don't be silly," Takumi sighed. "I'm-"
He paused as if to find the right words.
"I'm your best friend."
Akira looked up at the smile, almost sad and he wondered why.
Then an urge, so strong and sudden, almost overwhelmed him.
Akira almost cursed, deeply ashamed.
Here he was. Having just cremated his grandmother. Having just asked Takumi to basically babysit his wrecked self.
And he wanted to kiss the man.
It was unforgiveable.
He swallowed and forced the next words out, "You are."
Takumi looked away and coughed delicately. Probably uncomfortable with the display of emotions.
He tucked Akira in. "Get some sleep."
Akira closed his eyes.