Word count: 587
Pairing: old men Koyama/Shige
Summary: “We’ll be together like this even when we’re old men.” Future fic. Written for koyashigedake's Marching K event.
Warning: They’re, like, really old.
It’s funny how Shige’s everyday routine doesn’t change much from when he was young. After breakfast he tends to his vegetable garden, a small patch in front of his terrace at the retirement home, careful to bend over extra slowly due to back pains. When that is done he returns inside, intending to read a book or do a crossword puzzle, but the arrival of a visitor surprises him.
“Kei!” he exclaims as his friend walks in with the help of a cane, a helper from the home at the ready by his side. Koyama is all smiles as he waves a hand to dismiss the helper, assuring her he’s fine on his own. Shige pulls out a chair for him at the table and then sits down himself.
“How are you?” asks Shige. He doesn’t really need to ask because Koyama looks as fit as he’s ever been, still taller than Shige despite a slight stoop, but Koyama smiles anyway, appreciating the attention.
“Very good, actually. Last week I went to the Sign Language School after a while, and they said I looked the same as I did in my 60s.”
“Well, you do, really.” Shige chuckles and takes off his glasses. “So what brings you here? Came to see my remarkable ukiyo-e collection, eh?”
Suddenly Koyama’s face turns serious, and he rests his cane against the table. “I had a talk with my children yesterday. I said what I should’ve told them years ago.” His eyes are gentle as they meet Shige’s gaze. “I told them I’m in love with their Uncle Shige. Always have been.”
While Shige is still staring at him openmouthed, the helper knocks, pokes her head in and says, “Koyama-san, the movers have arrived with your belongings. Shall I tell them to bring them here?”
“Yes please, thank you,” replies Koyama, and the helper disappears again behind the door. “I have so much stuff, you won’t believe it. Uwah, it’s just like the old days, you and me rooming together during tours!”
“Wait,” Shige interjects, “did you really— are you—”
“You know what my son, the youngest, said right after?” Koyama’s eyes gleam. “He threw his hands up in the air and shouted, ‘Finally!’ They had known all along. I’ve wasted so many years worrying what other people might think, even after my wife died. But I’m not going do that anymore. I told them, ‘Your Uncle Shige has been living alone all this time, but I’m putting an end to that. I’m moving in with him.’
“I hope you don’t think it’s too much of a hassle,” he continues. “My retirement can help cover the rent, but my kids said they’re going to pitch in too. Oh, and it might be a little rowdy when my grandchildren come to visit. I can’t believe how much they’ve grown...”
“Kei,” Shige cuts in, putting a wrinkly hand over Koyama’s equally aged one. His lips are trembling. “I really...”
Koyama smiles, the same tender smile that has never changed for decades and promises to stay that way for another. “I know, Shige.”
They reach for one another and embrace, Shige leaning his head on Koyama’s shoulder. “I can’t get it up anymore,” he says in a small voice.
Koyama snorts. “And you assume I can? I’m not getting any younger.”
They both laugh in each other’s arms, and Shige remembers long gone days when he and Koyama pledged to be together until they become old men. It’s been a long time coming.