Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Johnny jolted up from his cold and lonely bed, the only thing accompanying him was the same nightmare that replayed every night. He could picture it all too well — the pace his heart ran when he saw Mileena jump at Kenshi, the feeling of blood that splattered on his face yet he couldn’t seem to close his eyes, all he could do was watch as his best friend got his eyes jabbed out. He squeezed his eyes shut from the thought. It was all too much. For a second, he couldn’t help but wonder if this is how Kenshi saw the world nowadays– or I suppose he couldn’t see the world nowadays.  It had been months since he was set free from the duties of being one of Earthrealm’s defenders, but he was never set free of the guilt he had. 

It should have been him that day.

He scrubbed his hands up and down his face until he could feel a different sensation. Something different from the fluorescent lights that dimmed Shang Tsung’s laboratory, something different from the screams of both himself and Kenshi. He kept going for a while, he yearned to feel okay. He severely wished that Cris could be next to him once more, that he could have someone to talk to when he had nightmares. But there he was, in bed, alone. 

He rubbed and rubbed, up and down, over and over again. It was unreasonable to think but maybe the blood would come off then if he rubbed now. Why can’t all these damn nightmares just go away? But his strange ritual was disturbed by a vibration on his nightstand. 

Brr. Brr. Brr. 

Johnny let out a deep sigh before reopening his eyes once more. His eyes fluttered and squinted as he tried to make out the name that flashed on his nightstand. Johnny was always very good at answering phone calls with speed, being in the film industry and all. It wasn’t difficult for him to shout out the words, “This is Johnny Cage speaking”. Sometimes he wondered if it was stupid that he still always answered the phone that way. But that was who he was. His eyes finally fully opened as he adjusted to the light on his screen, Kenshi. 

Shit. It was Kenshi. 

Kenshi hadn’t called in months, he didn’t call to begin with. He was the type to despise texting and calling. Johnny was always the one to call but after a while, he worried he was disturbing the swordman too much. Whether it was because of habit, of being in the Yakuza, or simply disliking not seeing a person face to face, he never called. Johnny brushed his hair back, preparing to start the call like he always did. With no issue he immediately grabbed his phone, placing it to his ear as his fingertip tapped on the screen to answer. Before he could start with his usual greeting, Kenshi spoke. 

“Hey, Johnny. It’s Kenshi.” 

Of course, he knew it was Kenshi, but he still paused. Maybe a small part of him didn’t know he was talking to Kenshi.

“Hey, Ken!”, the actor heard his own voice creek. Man, he still had his morning voice but he attempted to project his voice regardless. 

Kenshi’s voice echoed, although the audio wasn’t perfect, Johnny couldn’t help but feel soothed by his steady tone. The thoughts of his repeated nightmare faded for a bit, even if it was for a low-quality and slightly muffled audio. 

 “I’m sorry to call you so late”.

Johnny glanced around his dark room, locating the big wall clock he bought. It held elegant gold with Roman numerals, it barely shined in the shadows of his room. With a bit of squinting, he deciphered that it was 2:34 AM. 

“But I need you to pick me up. I should have called earlier but I didn’t.” 

The actor sprang up. Pick him up? Where could he be? The man had a lot of questions yet he found himself getting out of bed, preparing to leave before Kenshi could even disclose his location. 

“Yeah,” he paused before he nodded his head to himself, “I can pick you up.”. 

"Thank you, Johnny" he mumbled. Kenshi heard the sounds of bed sheets shuffling on the other end, a sign that Johnny was up. A small pang of guilt rang in his chest. "I'm at LAX."

“I’ll be there soon, Tattoo. Sit tight!” 

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Sit tight. Kenshi had been sitting tight. As he heard the sounds on his phone that indicated the phone call was over, he moved his head. Kenshi had forgotten to move as he didn’t have Sento and wasn’t necessarily worried about his surroundings as he sat in the airport seats. He had nobody to look at since he had nobody to talk to. His neck popped as a deep exhale escaped him. He hated disturbing Johnny. Yes, they were best friends, but he still hated every second of uttering the words that he was at LAX.

The former Yakuza member always hated to ask for favors, especially after going blind. He knew he didn’t need the help. He didn’t want the help. In Japan, he always spent time by himself. Just him and his walking stick if he wasn’t off fighting a threat. After the pain of a 15-hour flight and the pain of figuring out how to bring a sword on said flight, he realized he had no place for the night. In all honesty, he thought of asking Johnny first anyway. He wanted to see the beloved actor once more. However, Johnny hadn’t called him in a while. Kenshi simply assumed he busied himself with being a director. Maybe Johnny got bored of him. 

The blind man had sat around thinking he could just stay at a random terminal for the night, there was no need to disturb anybody. 

The man was stupid and stubborn enough to sit in the airport for an hour, listening to the sounds of people rolling their suitcases, talking about how fun their vacations would be, or businessmen yelling over the phone. Maybe he was nosey or simply too conscious of everything around him. That’s all he really was without Sento, a pair of ears. Kenshi thought it would be easy to stay at the airport, many nights he did the same in Japan. But something about LAX just sucked. The static speaker that echoed names from time to time finally got to him. He couldn’t stand being here any longer. 

After picking his phone up and down, struggling to say the words, he finally said: “Hey Siri, call Johnny Cage”. 

However, Siri had other plans. “Sorry, I could not find a ‘Johnny Mage’ in your contacts.”

Kenshi exhaled a deep, exhausted sigh. “Hey Siri, call Johnny Cage.”

“Sorry, I could not find a ‘John Cage’ in your contacts.”

Another sigh, even heavier this time. “Hey Siri, call…,” he gritted his teeth, “Johnny Asshole Cage.”

There was a brief, tense silence. Kenshi realized that he was holding his breath, hoping he hadn’t shouted it too loud in the crowded airport. At the same time, the realization hit him hard—he was actually calling the idiot actor.

“Calling… Johnny Asshole Cage.”

At that point, Kenshi simply couldn’t summon the energy to care anymore even if his phone was on speaker.

Alas, he finally called and was waiting for his friend to pick him up. He swiftly grabbed his walking stick and began to decipher LAX’s many pick-up stations.

Chapter Text

Johnny slid into his navy blue convertible, bracing himself for the inevitable LAX traffic nightmare ahead. As he eased out of his driveway, he decided to lower the roof, letting the cold air of California’s night kiss his skin. The stars were bright tonight. He began to rub his face again.

Johnny had a love-hate relationship with the stars for numerous reasons. For one, they reminded him of himself. He used to wish upon the brightest stars, hoping he’d become one. But they also always made him reminisce of a night he and Kenshi had together under them.

It had been three months since the Final Battle of Armageddon. Kung Lao invited everyone to Madam Bo’s for dinner and to catch up. They had spent months together in training, so it was no surprise that they all missed each other. Lord Liu Kang had left early that evening—busy as always. What else could you expect from a god? Not long after, Raiden and Kung Lao said their goodbyes, leaving Kenshi and Johnny alone at the table …and to settle the bill. The new director of the Mortal Kombat movies had regained his fame and fortune, so covering the bill was no problem. To Madam Bo's surprise, he paid it without hesitation.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it” Johnny beamed pridefully as he slid the bill towards his chest. He slapped his credit card down and gave Kenshi a wink.

“Humble as ever, aren’t you?”, Kenshi followed as he traced the outline of the actor’s wink.

“What can I say, Kenny? I’m just glad I can finally treat you guys to dinner. Too bad we had to end the night so short.”

"It's not over yet. I still have time if you'd like to do something." the director’s ears perked up, and a gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Johnny was pleasantly surprised, it had been a while since he and the swordsman got to spend one-on-one time with each other. Despite having so many meetings from his new work, he felt lonely. His waking up with nobody next to him was definitely a contributing factor. Johnny’s grin stretched wide as he slammed a hand on the table, startling a few patrons at Madam Bo’s.

"Alright, let’s blow this joint!”

Kenshi chuckled at the man’s declaration, his sharp ears catching the faint shuffling of startled customers and Madam Bo beginning to clear tables. He got up and followed the overly excited Johnny as Sento remained sheathed to his side.

"Got something in mind?”

Johnny quipped, standing up with an exaggerated flair. “Trust me, this is gonna be epic. Let’s take a drive.”

As the two drove into the night, Johnny let the roof down. He always liked the roof down. He inhaled deeply to embrace the Malibu night, letting the breeze in his brown hair. He tilted his head slightly at Kenshi, his red blindfold draping and fluttering against the wind. For once in a long time, it felt quiet for Johnny. No guys to fight, no nightmares, no flashing lights, no meetings, nothing. Just peace and quiet.

“Isn’t it beautiful tonight, Kenshi?”

Kenshi scoffed at Johnny’s question, “I can’t really see it. I wouldn’t know.” The blind man began to chuckle at his own joke, and Johnny felt an instant hit of embarrassment.

Johnny immediately felt a lump in his throat before he spat out, “Gosh, Uh– I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking when I said that”. He felt his own eyebrows tense up. Oh my stars, how could he be so stupid? But the voice of Kenshi soothed his head for a moment when he calmly reassured him, “Don’t worry, I know you aren’t aware of what I can and cannot see”. Johnny heard the man next to him snort a bit from his shame. He paused before letting the feeling wash away.

“So… Can you see the moon?" Johnny always loved looking at the sky during the night. They reminded him that there was hope out there. He found himself talking to the night numerous times while at the Wu Shi Academy.

“I can. Just not the stars”. As the words left Kenshi’s mouth, Johnny found himself in shock. It was painfully true that he was unaware of what the blind swordsman could and could not see.

“What?! Not the stars? That’s such a bummer”, the ex-actor loved the stars with desperation. Yes, he talked to the night sky but in reality, he was hoping upon the stars. They were a glimmer of what he wanted to be —a shining star himself. He also was just a bit of an astronomy nerd. The man could go on and on about the science behind space and stars.

“It really isn’t that bad, Cage. I can promise you that.”

Johnny immediately gawked at Kenshi’s words, “No! No! You don’t get to see the stars, Kenny! Have you ever looked at the stars and just..”, Johnny began snapping his fingers before finishing, “ I don’t know, felt something?”.

“I guess not. Enlighten me.”

Johnny felt his face light up as he eagerly rambled on about constellations, stars, and their brilliance. He couldn’t help himself; the words just kept going endlessly. But Kenshi listened. Their drive eventually brought them to a small park near Johnny’s new neighborhood. Though he had lost his mansion, ‘Casa Sol Cage’, he wasn’t upset. His new home was still luxurious, and the nearby park had become a quiet refuge for him—a place he found himself in when he needed to unwind when the life of fame felt too overwhelming.

As the car stopped, Johnny immediately ran to the passenger side to help Kenshi out of the car. However, he was greeted by a Kenshi who had already gotten out himself.

“I’m perfectly capable of handling myself, you know?”. Kenshi slightly unsheathed Sento to give the actor a reminder of how he could see just fine. Even after the swordsman's gesture with his sword, Johnny still gave him a playful shrug and smirk.

“I can never truly know. Can’t have you falling on your pretty face, can we?”, Johnny continued as he began to walk away from Kenshi. His back turned to the man as his head tilted, shining the same smile he always had around him. Kenshi simply followed him, huffing at his subtle comment.

“So where did you bring me?” Kenshi asked as scanned his surroundings through Sento. Johnny patted his back as he placed his arm around him, Johnny’s weight depending on the other man.

“Just somewhere I can see the stars”, the former actor leaned his head upwards taking note of each star.

“Oh wow. The one thing I can’t see,” Kenshi muttered with a huff, arching his head toward Johnny, who was gazing up in awe. “Describe the stars to me, will you?”

Kenshi’s question snapped Johnny back into reality. “Yeah,” he mumbled under his breath, “Yeah, I can do that for you.”

Taking a step back, Johnny gently placed Kenshi’s hand on his shoulder, just like old times. His eyes fixated on the red blindfold in front of his gaze. He began making small steps walking slowly toward the large field of the park, but Kenshi gave him a light shove, causing him to fall back “I can walk just fine, dumbass. You can speed it up”. Johnny shot him a snarky smile before running towards the field, leaving the blindfolded man standing.

“Last one there pays for Kung Lao’s portion next time!”

“Oh. You’re on, Jonathan Carlton.”

Johnny’s heart raced as he ran, not just from the exertion but from hearing Kenshi say his full name—not his stage name, his real name. He couldn’t even begin to think about looking back now; he just kept pushing forward toward the large field. When he finally collapsed onto the ground, he let out a grunt as his back hit the soft, green grass; staring up at the dark sky, the moon, and the very few stars he could see faintly illuminating the night. His heavy breathing was soon joined by Kenshi’s, and then, without warning, he felt a sharp kick to his side that made him wince.

“Ouch! What the fuck?! That hurt, Takahashi!” Johnny whined, his eyes locked onto the red blindfold that stared back at him. The moonlight reflected off Kenshi, casting that familiar glow Johnny had always noticed on him—a soft, and confident radiance that seemed to cling to him since the beginning. In that moment, Johnny reconfirmed something he had always known: he was one hundo percent in love with Kenshi Takahashi. No matter how many times the spotlight turned to Johnny, Kenshi always seemed to shine brighter to him.

Kenshi made a mock grumble and then muttered, “Loser.” Johnny couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the petty insult. Usually, Kenshi’s comebacks were much sharper, but “loser” felt right in the moment.

“And that hurt more,” Johnny teased, patting the ground beside him. “Come lay with me”, keeping his gaze fixed on Kenshi as the man hovered over him.

“Only if I don’t have to pay for Kung Lao’s meal next time. I am not doing that”, the man’s arms crossed just thinking about how much Kung Lao would eat if he ever found out he was going to pay for it all.

"Fine. You don’t have to. Just lay down with me," Johnny urged. The blind fighter sat beside him, remaining upright while Johnny stretched out on the grass. Kenshi kept his head up, it seemed like he was observing the moon. Of course, he was since he couldn’t admire the stars much to Johnny’s dismay.

Johnny stared at the moon before his attention fell back onto the stars. There weren’t many, just enough to light up the sky. He began to count in his head how many stars he could see with the naked eye: one, two, three, four, five, six–

“Are you going to describe the stars to me now?”

Johnny snickered at the request, his head pressed into the dirt and grass beneath him. His focus settled on Kenshi. The fibers of Kenshi's gray suit contrasted sharply with the deep red of his button-up, the color almost perfectly matching his blindfold. It was the same one Johnny had given him, repurposed from his armor. It felt like it was almost fate that they held the same colors.

Despite everything Kenshi had been through, he still carried himself well, his head held high. Johnny admired that about him—especially in this moment. His lips parted slightly as he watched him, a silent awe pouring into him.

“They’re bright tonight,” Johnny described “They always are, but… they feel damn bright to me tonight.”

“To you?” Kenshi asked, a brow quirking into a slight chuckle.

Johnny nodded faintly. “Yeah… To me.”

He turned his gaze back to the stars, letting the moment stretch in silence. But his thoughts were cut short by a light shove at his shoulder.

“Hilarious as always, Cage,” Kenshi said dryly. “Just because I can’t see how bright they are doesn’t mean you had to rub it in”. Though the words may have sent a different message, Kenshi smiled. He rarely smiled with his teeth, just a small tug at the corners of his lips that made his cheeks just ever so slightly higher.

Johnny simply watched as Kenshi's lips moved as he spoke, noting the way a smile would form both before and after his words. The actor couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm throughout his body as the moonlight cast its glow upon Kenshi. He had always admired the man’s ambiance but tonight it felt especially raw, bright, him.

“Not my fault you can’t take in the beauty of the stars”, Johnny boasted. A part of him did feel like it was his fault but he was going to do anything and everything in his power to make up for it.
“I suppose.”

There was another pause. All they could hear was the breeze and Johnny shuffling against the grass trying to get even more comfortable.

“What’s so special about the stars anyway?” Kenshi’s voice cut through the quiet as he placed Sento on the ground, the sword’s weight landing with a metallic clang.

Johnny glanced over, momentarily distracted from the sky. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, shifting slightly.

Kenshi’s eyebrow raised, his expression was obviously skeptical despite having a blindfold. “What do you mean you don’t know? That sounds idiotic.”

The other man sighed in response, feeling a little cornered. “No, I do know. I just…” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “You’d laugh at me.”

“Perhaps,” Kenshi admitted, “But I’d still like to hear it.”

Johnny smirked, though there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes. “Well, you know, I always wanted to be a star.”

“Aren’t you already?” Kenshi asked, his tone genuinely curious.

“What? A star?” Johnny felt his eyebrows raise, his expression somewhere between amused and in awe. It had been a while since someone called him that.

“Yeah? Johnny Cage, the Hollywood star?”

Johnny hesitated, his trademark confidence faltering for just a small moment. He exhaled and looked back at the stars. “I guess… but I wasn’t Johnny Cage my whole life.”

Kenshi tilted his head, now looking at Johnny. “Who were you before then?”

Johnny laughed lightly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ah, just a dumb kid with big dreams. Nobody special.”

Kenshi just listened, he let the silence do its work. No place could be too silent if Johnny had anything to say about it. Johnny loved that Kenshi could listen to him for hours. He had let him yap on about the movies he starred in, his divorce with Cris, the stars, and now this.

“But I’m still that dumb kid. I look up at the stars and place my wishes and hopes upon them. I’d pray that things went well and that I can be so much more than what I am. Or for things to just be okay.”

“So that’s why you talked to yourself when we were at the academy.”

Johnny whipped his head around, “Wait, you saw that?”

“I heard it. You’re not exactly the quietest person in the world.”

“Hey! I could be plenty quiet if I pleased!”

“Sure, you can” Kenshi sneered, smirking at the actor’s mock indignation. “But that’s actually… beautiful. Do the hopes ever come true?”

Johnny sighed, his eyes still set on the stars. “We’re alive, aren’t we?”

“Yes. And I’m grateful for that. ” Kenshi said softly. “But is there still something you’re wishing for?”

Johnny’s voice dropped. He did. He knew he did. “Yeah… there is. Not sure if this one’s gonna come true, though.”

“Maybe the stars will do you justice,” Kenshi said with a faint grin, his blindfold lifting letting Johnny peer at the healed scars where his eyes would be, “But hey, what do I know? I’m just a blind man.”

“A blind man with a magical fucking sword,” Johnny shot back, a grin spreading across his face as if he’d just delivered the punchline of the century. It was funny, the only person who could make his wish come true was Kenshi. He had wished to be with him. He tilted his head toward the subtly glittering sky, the faint light casting soft shadows on his features. “Make a wish right now!”

Before Kenshi could reply, Johnny grabbed him by the blazer and pulled him down onto the cool grass. Kenshi grunted slightly as his back hit the ground, the earth beneath them soft and slightly damp. He settled beside the already comfortable Johnny, the faint scent of crushed grass making itself much more obvious.

Johnny stretched his hands behind his head, “Pick a star. Come on, Takahashi. Humor me”, Johnny nodded his head at the stars forgetting that Kenshi couldn’t couldn’t see any of them to begin with. The swordsman could hear Johnny’s smile through his words, it was almost infectious.

Johnny could smell Kenshi’s musky cologne as he laid next to him. He took another exaggerated inhale, filling his lungs with the night and Kenshi’s space. "What'd you wish for, big guy?", Johnny nudged at him.

“I thought wishes weren’t supposed to be said out loud. Plus, I can’t even see the stars.”

Johnny shifted slightly closer, his shoulder brushing against Kenshi’s, the faintest warmth of their proximity blending with the coolness of the night. He snickered before saying, "I’m a star, aren’t I? Your words, not mine."

Kenshi let out a mix of a sigh and laugh, his hand running through his hair. “Oh my god, Johnny.”

Johnny laughed, but the moment softened. There was a warmth between them, unspoken but real. Then he shifted slightly, his tone more serious now. He felt his glimmer begin to falter, "Would you wish for your vision back?"

Kenshi paused, realizing what Johnny was asking before letting out a soft chuckle. "No, never. Liu Kang said it was fate. We’ve talked about this before, Johnny."

Johnny hesitated, a terribly familiar feeling towering over him, "I’m still really sorry about that, Kenshi. You saved my life, and I still don’t know how I can even begin to repay you."

Kenshi turned his head slightly in Johnny’s direction. “It’s not your fault”. There was a quiet warmth in his voice when spoke again. "Johnny, I don't care for my blindness and if it’s fate. As long as we are fate too."

We? Us? Being fate? What did that mean?

Johnny turned on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. He leaned in closer to Kenshi. In this moment their worlds felt a little less further apart. A wide smirk was painted on his face. It was somehow both cheeky and genuine. “So, you’re not going to tell me your wish?”

Kenshi shook his head, "You're impossible. Fine, you can be my star since I can’t see the actual stars".

Johnny heard another metallic clang that broke the quiet as Kenshi released his hold on Sento. Without hesitation, he threw himself at the startled superstar, resting his head against Johnny’s chest. His voice softened, tinged with something that felt genuine, “I wish for things to be okay. For my clan, for Earthrealm... for us. Just for things to be okay.”

Us? For us to be okay?

Johnny felt his heart soften as he listened, the playful edge slipping away, replaced by something new, and much more vulnerable.

"That’s one hell of a wish, Ken doll," Johnny said, trying to pull himself away from the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. It was too much, too real, too many questions. Yet Johnny caught Kenshi’s slight reaction to the new nickname, it was simply a quiet hum.

Kenshi’s voice was quiet yet very certain. "Maybe. But you're my star. You’ll make it come true for me"

Johnny’s smile returned, though it was tinged with something a bit more intoxicating. He nudged at Kenshi’s arm, "Yeah, I am! I’m your star."

“Don’t let it get to your head, Cage.”

“No promises.”

Chapter Text

As the memory dimmed, Johnny redirected his attention to the road. That night had meant so much to him. For god's sake, every time he had even glanced at the stars he thought of Kenshi. But deep down, he knew Kenshi would never see him in that light. They were best friends, and that’s all they would ever be.

Before long, the quiet of the night gave way to the relentless honking and yelling of LAX traffic. Johnny quickly found himself on the receiving end of blaring horns, responding with a raised middle finger adorned with his signature JC ring. Ah, Los Angeles traffic—a never-ending fucking pain in the ass. Why was he doing this anyway? Why had he gotten out of bed at 2:30 in the morning to drive 50 minutes to pick up Kenshi without a second thought? He was popping at least 15 mints and reapplying his cologne numerous times. The car smelled like it had been dumped into a pool of axe body spray, and Johnny didn’t even use that stuff.

After some painful traffic, he found the red blindfolded man sitting on a bench. Johnny had brought a cliché poster board with ‘Pick Up For Sexy Face Two Kenshi Takahashi’—because, of course, he did. Before Johnny could even flash his poorly made sign, Kenshi had already slipped into the passenger seat. He hadn’t even noticed the luggage that made it to his backseat. He heard a shing, signaling that Sento was joining the car ride.

"A sign? Really?" Kenshi said with a smirk, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he closed the car door.

Johnny tossed the poster board into the backseat without a word, his cheeks flushing slightly. He felt his confidence crumble, "Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s a masterpiece. Don’t need to tell me twice," he chuckled as he placed his arm around the head of the passenger seat.

Kenshi tilted his head slightly, his blindfold shifting as his head turned around the car. “You smell like you fell into a pit of cologne,” he remarked dryly, “Seeing a new lady I assume?”

Johnny shot him a mock sneer "No. It’s called making an effort. You should try it sometime," he retorted, placing his signature sunglasses on despite the fact it was still incredibly dark outside.

“You’re truly impossible.”

“Damn. Not even a thank you for pulling up at this hour?”

“Thank you, Johnny. Are you not cold? How are you wearing just that button-up?”

“Aw, you care for me so dear, Ken doll.”

Kenshi sighed, his smirk deepening as he adjusted his seatbelt, it sort of tangled with the katana he tried to hold to his side. “I don’t care. I’m just wondering how you’re not freezing your ass off. It’s chilly, and you’re dressed like it’s a Malibu summer.”

Johnny shrugged dramatically, one hand gripping the wheel while the other gestured as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re in California. It doesn’t get cold for a good while. Just, let it go.”

Kenshi groaned, leaning his head back against the heated seat. “By the eldergods, did you seriously quote Frozen?”

“Damn right I did.” Johnny gave the cheekiest grin, giving Kenshi a wink before placing his sunglasses back up. Johnny could tell Kenshi wished he could roll his eyes by the way he leaned further back into the chair.

The silence that followed during the ride wasn’t too uncomfortable—Johnny stole a quick glance at Kenshi, who seemed at peace despite the blindfold and the weight he always carried. Usually, Johnny felt something bittersweet when looking at the blindfold, but he didn’t in this moment. Johnny let himself think that maybe, just maybe, it would be fine. Maybe the complex feelings he had wouldn’t matter, that they would go away.

Then Kenshi broke the silence. “So, where’s my ‘welcome to LA’ coffee?”

Johnny shot Kenshi a glare before groaning dramatically, flinging one arm into the air for emphasis. “Who do you think I am?”

Kenshi smirked, shrugging nonchalantly. “You showed up with that ridiculous sign. Coffee didn’t seem like much of a leap.”

Johnny laughed, shaking his head as he gripped onto the wheel once again. “I’ve got a coffee maker at home,” he replied, letting the night breeze tousle their hair and clothes as the car hummed along. “Besides, I thought you were more of a tea guy.”
“Is that your excuse for not bringing me coffee?” Kenshi snarked, shooting his head towards Johnny.

Johnny grinned. “No, I probably wouldn’t have brought one anyway. I was in a hurry. And, for the record, it was just a question.”

Kenshi chuckled softly. “I do prefer tea, but I am fucking exhausted.” He leaned back in the seat with a sigh, burying his head into his hands and rubbing his temples. “Remind me to never set foot in LAX again.”

“Oh? Kenshi Takahashi of the F.B.eye can’t survive one day at LAX?” Johnny teased, his smirk widening as the lights of the city reflected off his sunglasses, casting a playful glint in his eyes.

Kenshi shifted in his seat placing a firm grip on Sento, the blindfold barely shifting as his lips twisted into the grin Johnny had always recognized. “Still isn’t funny, Cage.” His voice was low, but there was an undeniable spark of amusement in his words.

Johnny’s smile never faltered. As long as Kenshi was around, it never would.

“You laughed at it once. I can make you laugh at it again.” The car hummed along the darkened highway, the occasional flicker of streetlights flashing like a pulse, casting fleeting shadows across their faces.

Chapter Text

As the sun began to rise, Johnny didn’t bother trying to go back to sleep. It was already close to 5 AM when they got home, and he felt too unsettled to rest. Plus, the nightmare shook him up if anything else didn’t already.

Now, it was 9 AM on a Sunday. With no meetings or work calls on the agenda, Johnny had the day to himself. He always left Sundays free even if he didn’t know what to do with himself for most of them. Scrolling through his phone, he figured he might as well make some coffee. Especially since he didn’t make it earlier per Kenshi’s request.

He hadn’t made coffee in the morning since Cris left. But making it now brought a new thrill that he welcomed. The air was filled with the aroma of coffee beans and a hint of Johnny's love—something that hadn’t graced any household he’d stayed in for months. As he poured the coffee into a white standard mug, he felt his heartstrings pull in every direction possible.

As he walked into the living room, his gaze landed on the red blindfold neatly folded on the counter. A strange tug pulled at Johnny’s chest, an ache he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He tried to remind himself that things would be okay, that they were okay. He crossed the room and lowered himself onto the couch beside the sleeping man, his weight dipping into the white cushions.

With a soft clink, he carefully placed the coffee mug down on the table next to Kenshi's folded blindfold. Johnny froze as the man shifted slightly, a sign he was waking up from his slumber.
“Good morning, hot shot.”

Kenshi extended his arm while still remained lying on the couch, Sento swiftly darted into his hand. He let out a low grunt as the sword settled firmly into his grasp. “What time is it?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

Johnny smirked, leaning against the back of the couch as stretched his arms out. “Nine-something,” he replied, nodding toward the table. “I got you coffee. Now, are you going to tell me why you called? Or better yet, why you’re in California?”

Johnny’s expression softened as he watched Kenshi sit up slightly, his blindfold yet to come on. His eyes focused on Kenshi’s healed scars and his tattooed fingers curling tighter around Sento’s hilt. Johnny didn’t know how to feel about the healed scars and looking at them. He couldn’t help but feel like they were only there because of him.

The swordsman’s expression remained unreadable, but something flickered across his face, it seemed like… determination?

“You know,” Johnny smirked as his head faced a tired Kenshi “I haven’t asked how your whole Taira clan fiasco has been going.”

Kenshi’s brow arched slightly, before letting out a smile, “That’s actually why I’m here,” he replied, his voice calm but still somewhat weighted. “It’s been going well. I’ve made good progress. Though...” He paused, his hand fidgeting with the handle of Sento. “I heard a few of my clan might have hidden here in Los Angeles.”

Johnny leaned back against the couch, resting one arm over the top as he gave a lopsided smile. “That’s great, Kenshi. Really. I’m happy for you.”

He tilted his head slightly, his grin shifting into something more playful. “But it still doesn’t answer why you called me in the middle of the night instead of- oh, I don’t know, checking into a hotel or something?”

Kenshi hesitated, the briefest of pauses that spoke volumes. His grip on Sento relaxed, and a faint huff escaped him—almost a laugh, but he seemed too tired to laugh. “I thought of calling you before getting here, but I suppose I forgot. Or something.”

The words hung in the air, simple and unembellished, yet they carried a weight that landed squarely in Johnny’s chest. His heart was going at it again. If his heartstrings felt pulled before, now he felt like his heart was pulled out of his chest and shoved back in. Johnny unconsciously straightened his posture, his smirk softening into something more genuine, an upside-down smile of sorts.

“Well, damn,”, he began rubbing the back of his neck, “Didn’t know I was that special to you, Ken”. He chuckled, his voice much quieter than usual. “I’m not complaining, though.”

The corner of Kenshi’s mouth twitched in the faintest of smiles. His expression didn’t give much away, but the air between them felt warmer. Johnny wished he could have just read his mind. The swordsman got up and leaned his back against the couch, Sento’s blade balancing on the ground. Johnny found himself leaning closer into Kenshi, his head practically touching his shoulder.

”I’m assuming your schedule is packed?” Johnny asked, his voice laced with mock disappointment.

Kenshi leaned towards the counter, picking his blindfold up. He tied the cloth where his eyes would be with an uncomfortable amount of ease before he responded. “You could say that”, he slowly leaned back into the couch.

Johnny leaned his head, pouting and now lying on Kenshi’s shoulder. “Aw, no time for me then? Truly a shame.” Johnny exhaled dramatically.

Kenshi felt his body stiffen as Johnny laid on his shoulder. His voice was flat but still humored Johnny, “Well, I’ll be back.”

“For dinner?” Johnny pleaded, his eyes glinting as a puppy dog would. At this point, his face was snuggled up into Kenshi’s neck, yet the other man didn’t move.

“You sound like a mother telling their children to come home on time.”

Johnny got up from his shoulder, resting his elbows on his thighs. “I just want to have dinner with you. I’d like to catch up.” His gaze softened for a moment, something almost unspoken in his eyes.

“Dinner with me? Sure,” Kenshi replied, his face still unreadable.

Johnny leaned in, his voice turning a bit more playful. “Be home by 9?”

Kenshi let out a low, amused huff. “Yeah, you sound like a mother.”

“Is that a no?” Johnny asked, his smile faltering for a split second as he raised an eyebrow, genuinely unsure of Kenshi’s response.

“10.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you, Johnny.” Kenshi’s voice softened, and there was a sudden change in atmosphere as his words of gratitude left his mouth.

“For?” Johnny asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Letting me stay here.”

Johnny’s smile returned, his eyes smiling along with it. He felt himself lighting up with warmth. “Any time, man. I still don’t know why you spent the night on the couch though,”

“The couch looked more comfortable,” Kenshi replied with a shrug, his tone casual but with a touch of teasing.

Johnny shifted his head towards Kenshi, shaking his head in a dramatic disbelief “And you call me impossible.”

Kenshi met his gaze, his cheeks heightening slightly “Fine. I’ll sleep in the guest bedroom tonight.”

Johnny placed his hand up as if he had an eureka moment, “Or… you could just sleep in my bedroom with me”. For such a smart man with a Ph.D in quantum mechanics, he was so fucking dumb.

“Very funny, Cage,” Kenshi retorted, his tone dry but playful. He shook his head before standing up and leaving the room and the coffee Johnny had made.

As Kenshi left his line of sight, Johnny buried his face into his hands yet again. This time he wasn’t feeling bad, but flustered?

Maybe a part of Johnny wasn’t joking, and he knew that.

Chapter Text

As the door shut behind Kenshi, Johnny realized he didn’t have a plan for the day. He simply looked forward to having dinner with Kenshi that night, but that would be a couple of hours from now.

He stared at the cup of coffee he had made, he noticed the steam had completely disappeared. As he picked up the cup, he swirled the liquid in the mug, watching it catch the light in ripples and his own reflection, before drinking. Oddly enough, the chill of the coffee didn’t bother him—it mirrored the odd flutter in his chest, a mix of nervousness and excitement. What should he cook? What would Kenshi like?

Johnny went out to the store to gather ingredients, he wanted to get the best for his guest. He thought it would be a simple enough task to fill his day with: buy ingredients for dinner. Instead of a simple errand, he kept finding himself overthinking every detail. What if Kenshi didn’t like the steak he bought? How does Kenshi like his steak? Well, Johnny knew exactly how Kenshi liked his steak. They had numerous conversations about it since Johnny prided himself on it. Wait, what if his choice of steak changed? And were mashed potatoes too basic? Would he even like it? What if he made it too mushy? Should he grab dessert, or was that trying too hard?

He’d run his hand through his hair multiple times throughout his shopping trip and say the same thing, “You’ve got this, Cage. It’s just dinner.”

But this wasn’t just dinner to him, was it? Come on, Cage.

If buying groceries was that bad, prepping it was hell for Johnny. The kitchen was usually a space in which Johnny felt he could thrive. If some of his movies were terrible at least he could make a good meal to watch it with. But now the domain he once thrived in, felt foreign.

Some potatoes were already boiling, but for some reason, he began peeling another after he rewashed the potatoes three times. He felt his grasp on the rough damp vegetable. Why was he overthinking about how to grip a damn potato? Before he could spiral any further, he peeled a potato too quickly, accidentally nicking the edge of his finger with the blade. “Fuck-” he hissed, dropping the vegetable peeler and running the cut under cold water. It didn’t hurt and the cut wasn’t deep, but he was still upset. He fumbled cutting a potato.

“Goddamnit, Cage. What the hell are you doing?”, his eyes fixated on his finger beneath the stream of water. He didn’t feel the cold, pain, nothing. He didn’t feel anything at all—just watched as the small open cut glistened under the water. With a sharp motion, he slammed the faucet off, water droplets scattering across the sink. He let out a deep sigh, “Pull yourself together.”

Johnny pressed his palms to his face and let out yet another shaky breath. It’s just dinner. You’ve done bigger and harder things than this. You trained to become an Earthrealm defender, this should be simple. The man kept replaying moments from his time in Outworld to ground himself. If things were so hard then and he got through it, this should be just fine.

But then he remembered.

He remembered the repeating nightmare all over again. The memory hit Johnny like a punch to the gut, even if he could take physical punches, this one hurt. And it hurt bad. He began to rub his face for what felt like the millionth time today. He could feel as if Kenshi’s blood was still on his face.

Come off. Come off. Come off.

A flood of thoughts overwhelmed his head. How could he let the man he loved so dear go blind? How could he ever even dream to date the man he let go blind? How could he ever expect Kenshi to even love him? Was he even worth his time now? He looked at the potatoes again, at the knife resting beside the cutting board. It was stupid, really—getting so worked up over dinner.

Ever since the incident, Johnny repeatedly apologized to Kenshi. He’d said it a hundred times, probably even more. Kenshi always waved it off, telling him to stop apologizing, insisting he didn’t blame him or even Mileena. But Johnny still thought it was his fault. “I’m so sorry, Kenshi,” he thought.

“Sorry for what?”

“What the fuc- Oh, Kenshi. Hey!”, Johnny’s hands dropped from his face.

Kenshi stood in the doorway of the kitchen, one brow raised. He looked concerned. “Sorry for what, Johnny?”

“Kenshi I-” Johnny stumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t see you come in.”

“It’s 9:56. I said by 10, didn’t I?” Kenshi’s voice was calm. He held Sento’s handle, still at his side. He had this smile on his face, his presence steady, grounding.

“Right! Yes! Yes, you did, Kenny.” Johnny forced a laugh. Maybe it was a good thing Johnny was directing now, who knew he was such a terrible actor? “Guess I lost track of time.”

“No worries,” Kenshi replied casually, stepping closer to Johnny. Johnny held his breath, his gaze briefly flickering as the blindfold got closer. But instead of pausing, Kenshi simply reached for the stove, turning off the heat beneath the pot of boiling potatoes that had almost foamed over. The hiss of steam dissipated and Johnny let out a deep exhale before smiling. “Yeah! Wash up, big guy,” Johnny said, slapping his back, sounding a little too enthusiastic about the shower.

Kenshi smirked faintly, shaking his head as he turned toward the hall. “You’re truly an idiot, Cage.”

As Kenshi’s figure left into the bathroom door, he covered his face with his hands, leaning against the counter for support. His heart was still racing, but now for a very different reason.

Johnny placed two plates in front of his big screen TV, he sat down on the couch smelling the aroma of his freshly cooked meal. Steak, mashed potatoes, and a salad. He held his plate in one hand and started feeling around for the remote with the other.

“I’m not watching your god-awful movies as we eat, Johnny”, a warm mist and the smell of shampoo entered as Kenshi sat down next to Johnny. Kenshi’s damp hair caught the light in streaks, making it look spikey. Anime style or whatever. Johnny noticed

drops of water on his blindfold, the edges were wet from his hair, and the fabric slightly frayed from it.

Johnny’s gaze flickered, his lips twitching as he watched droplets from his hair fall onto the fabric, “Your blindfold’s getting wet.”

Kenshi raised an eyebrow, “I don’t see the issue with it getting wet,” he replied evenly.

“Of course, you don’t,” Johnny quipped, gesturing his fork to the red cloth, Kenshi turned his head toward Johnny, his smirk widening ever so slightly. “Hilarious as always. What do you suggest I wear then?”

Johnny shrugged, taking a bite of steak and chewing with exaggerated thoughtfulness before answering. “Hm…Not that blindfold.”

Although Kenshi couldn’t roll his eyes anymore for obvious reasons, he did something that Johnny deemed the equivalent. He would tilt his head toward his shoulder, his face angling slightly to the side. He had caught him doing this even when he still had his vision. Many times in the Wu Shi Academy, Kenshi always did the same thing when Johnny said something stupid, often because he was taunting him with Sento. Kenshi had done his little head roll, and Johnny couldn’t help but smirk.

“Okay, what about you borrow my sunglasses? This way you can wash that damn thing. Seriously, I’ve got more of these things than I can count.”

“Why do you have so many? And do they all have your name plastered on them?”

“Embroidered. Not plastered. Who do you think I am?” Johnny corrected with an exaggerated flourish, he clicked his tongue in a mock offense. “And I’ll have you know, there was a great deal.”

Kenshi simply shook his head, “Still don’t get it.”

“One day, Ken doll,” Johnny grabbed a pair from his pocket, holding them up to the light as if he were inspecting an ancient artifact. And Johnny was real giddy about his ancient artifacts, Kenshi would know. He then slid them toward Kenshi with a grin. “Here. Try them.”

Kenshi took them feeling the carving on the temple of the sunglasses. He chuckled as he felt the name on it: written in all caps, in all bold: JOHNNY CAGE, “How subtle.”

Johnny leaned back into the couch, his posture beaming with confidence, his plate balanced on his lap. He grinned at Kenshi, who was now holding the sunglasses in one hand, running his thumb over the bold engraving of Johnny's name. Kenshi was giggling to himself.

“You wear those, and I promise you, you’ll look epic,” Johnny said, pointing at Kenshi with his fork before stabbing a piece of steak and popping it into his mouth. “You might even get mistaken for a super cool Japanese actor”, Johnny began nodding at himself, clearly proud of his own proclamation.

“Oh, yeah? You bet I’d look ‘epic’?”, his tone deadpan but his lips twitched into a smirk.

“Nope,” Johnny replied shaking his head intensely through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “I promise you’ll look epic.”

Kenshi’s eyebrows arched in skepticism, chuckling again as he slid the glasses onto his face. The moment the black lenses settled in place, Johnny froze mid-bite before springing into a standing ovation. With his fork still in his mouth, he began clapping enthusiastically. The room roared with Johnny’s muffled cheers despite the utensil. “Ladies and gentlemen!” he declared, clapping way too loud for just two people “Behold—rockstar samurai, live in the Johnny Cage household! What will he do next?”

Kenshi looked up at Johnny, the sunglasses catching the light as he did. “Rockstar samurai is about to kick Johnny Cage’s ass if he doesn’t sit down,” laughing slightly at his dramatic monologue. “I won’t keep these on long.”

“What? Why not?” Johnny asked, mock sadness and shock spreading across his face as he gestured wildly to Kenshi. He settled down next to Kenshi once again leaning close as he said, “You look like me—hot!”

“As attractive as you are, Cage, I don’t want to look like a… rockstar samurai. I’m perfectly fine with being just Kenshi. And between us, you’re the star. Not me.”

“Truly a tragedy”, Johnny flopped onto the couch, like ‘Paint me one of your French girls’ style. He placed his hand on his forehead dramatically. Kenshi sighed.

Before Kenshi knew it, Johnny had snapped out of his playful scene and handed him a plate. The moment the fork touched the swordsman’s lips, Johnny perked up like a puppy dog, “How is it? Honest opinion!”

Kenshi looked over at him, his blindfolded gaze unreadable. “It isn’t terrible,” he said after a beat, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Johnny clutched his chest in mock pain. “Not bad? Not bad? Kenshi, that’s grade-A Cage mastery you’re tasting. Show some respect.”

Kenshi’s grin grew slightly, his fingers still fiddling with the name engraved on the glasses. “Fine. It’s good. Really good. Thank you for cooking tonight.”

Johnny’s smile radiated, clearly taking Kenshi’s reluctant compliment as the highest of praise. “Damn right! This is all just grade-A Cage skill”. Johnny’s playful grin lingered, but his gaze softened as he leaned just a little closer. Kenshi began adjusting the sunglasses subtly, still fiddling with the engraved name.

“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” Johnny said, his tone a little quieter now, threaded with a sincerity that caught Kenshi’s attention. “You really do look badass.”

Kenshi turned his head toward Johnny, raising an eyebrow. It looked like he was about to say something, but Johnny cut him off before he could

.
“Seriously,” Johnny smirked, his face now practically on his shoulder, "You might even look better than me in my shades.”

Kenshi’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “That’s a bold claim, Cage. Should I be worried you’re falling in love with me?”, he teased as he took another bite of steak.

“Well is it working?” Johnny chuckled, but his gaze lingered a little too long on Kenshi’s profile—on the soft curve of his smirk, the ways his cheeks heightened, something he had always noted. It was sort of stupid but he wished he could just tell him right there: I love you, Kenshi! He swallowed hard, his heart hiding behind another bite of food.

Kenshi took another bite of his own, the room slipping into a comfortable quiet. He chuckled, low and warm, clearly enjoying Johnny’s question. “Sure,” he said, dragging the word out just enough to make it sound teasing. “I’m almost envious of whoever the next lucky lady is”

Johnny blinked, his confusion giving way to curiosity. “Lucky lady?”

Kenshi shrugged casually. “Yeah. Someone who gets to enjoy meals like this and have you around. Always showing up, even at 2 AM?”

Johnny’s grin faltered for just a moment, his gaze still fixated on the swordsman next to him. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he asked, “Who said it’s going to be a lucky lady?”

Kenshi’s smirk didn’t waver as he tipped his head toward Johnny. “My bad”, he said smoothly, “Lucky guy?”

Johnny’s grin returned, wider this time. Yet his heart hammered inside his chest, begging for that smile to knock off his face. Kenshi took another bite, calm and composed as ever, but Johnny felt his emotions erupt.
He scoffed, “Nobody can resist Johnny Cage.”

“Whatever you say, ‘Johnny Cage’.”

Lucky guy, huh?

Chapter Text

That night, Johnny was forced awake once more, his heart hammering against his ribs. The remnants of his repeated nightmare stuck to him, a suffocating weight that refused to fade. He groaned quietly, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. Eyes, he wished it was him. That he was the one who got blinded, he felt as if he had been choked ten times over, his throat felt too dry.

Water. Maybe water would help.

The man stepped out into the dark hallway, sighing every few steps, flashes of the nightmare assaulted him—disjointed, vivid, and unrelenting. Fuck, he wished it would go away. He shook his head, trying to shoo them away as he made his way to the kitchen.

However, Johnny froze when he saw Kenshi, leaning against the counter, a glass of water sitting out. He hadn’t touched it. Kenshi’s posture was heavy. His tattooed hands rested on Sento, he seemed like he was taking in something. Thoughts? The environment? Johnny didn’t know.

“Kenshi?” Johnny called, his voice breaking any train of thought Kenshi had. “What are you doing up?”

Kenshi straightened his posture, being pulled back into the present, “Oh. Just thinking.”

Johnny walked towards him and grabbed a clean glass from the sink before standing beside Kenshi. He picked up the jug of water on the counter and filled his cup. He tried for his usual demeanor, though it came out a lot weaker and breathier than intended. “What’s in that mysterious head of yours, Takahashi?”

Kenshi sat there for a moment, he didn’t respond right away. His fingers trailed on the sageo of Sento. Johnny stared at the cup of water, which looked like it hadn’t been touched at all. Not even drank from. Finally, Kenshi spoke, “You never answered me earlier.”

Johnny tensed, sipping some water hoping that his throat would let him speak, “About what?”

“Why you were apologizing,” Kenshi said, turning his head slightly toward Johnny.

He remained silent. He didn’t want to answer, though deep down, he knew Kenshi already knew his answer.

Kenshi sighed, the sound tinged with a faint frustration but still, a hint of solace within his breaths. “We’ve been over this,” Kenshi said, his voice firm. “It wasn’t your fault. Liu Kang said it was my fate. I’ve made my peace with it. Why can’t you?”
Johnny felt his lip quiver and his voice crack even before words could leave his mouth, “I don’t know. It still feels like my fault. I could’ve done more.”

Kenshi placed his hand on Johnny’s shoulder, the touch steady and grounding. It carried a quiet strength that soothed Johnny in ways many words couldn’t. It was almost a brief reminder of how much they’ve been through together. In that brief connection, Johnny felt the weight of their shared history—the pain, the triumphs, everything. Just old times.

“Johnny, we’ve had this conversation many times. It wasn’t your fault.”
“It feels like it though.”

Kenshi released a deep sigh that was laced with annoyance, Johnny hadn’t heard that tone from him since he had given him Sento. The faint edge of irritation woven into his words made Johnny’s chest tighten even more. He realized that even Kenshi’s patience had its limits.

“You are stubborn, you know that?”

“What?” Johnny blinked, caught off guard by the sudden insult. Kenshi was never a stranger to insulting him, but he usually knew when to dial it back—this felt different. Plain mean.

“I can tell you numerous times”, Kenshi’s voice cut through like Sento, sharp, “it was fate, and I have accepted that, and you still think it’s your fault. It isn’t. I can promise you that.”

Kenshi’s words seemed intended to soothe, but they only deepened the fog clouding Johnny’s mind. The weight of his thoughts pressed down relentlessly, each one jabbing into him like a sharp pain. Jabbing, even the word made him sick. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “You don’t understand, Kenshi.”

Kenshi’s jaw tightened, “You don’t think I understand?” he asked, his tone rising slightly.

“You don’t get how it feels to know it’s all your damn fault. I let go of Mileena. I could’ve saved you. And look at you now.”

“Excuse me?” Kenshi interrupted. Johnny could sense Kenshi’s usual patience for his ramblings—something he often indulged in—begin to falter. But Johnny couldn’t stop now. He had too many emotions bottled up for far too long, too many nightmares clawing at his chest that were also kept secret. He needed Kenshi to understand how relentlessly the nightmares had been treating him. Even if he didn’t want to tell him that he was having nightmares, to begin with. He couldn’t tell him.

“You don’t understand,” Johnny snapped, his emotions boiling over. “You don’t get what it’s like to know it’s all your fault. To see someone you love so much suffering because your fuck up!”

Kenshi’s hand returned to his side. His grip on the Sento tightened, his knuckles whitening. He sighed, “You think I’m your fuck up? That I’m some tragic consequence of your failure?”
“I just—” Johnny’s voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a rush. He began to realize what Kenshi was thinking, that he had rambled on about the wrong thing. “I wish I could fix it. I wish I could undo what I did. Make it so I could be the one who got blinded.”

“Stop,” Kenshi interrupted, Kenshi was always proficient with blades but who knew his words could also be so sharp? “You think this is about you being the hero again? That you need to ‘save’ the person you quote on quote ‘love’ so much?”
“It’s not like that”, Johnny pleaded with raw desperation. “That’s not it at all! I care about you so much, Kenshi. You’re my friend. Hell! Even more than that.”

“Stubborn. You are so fucking stubborn.”

Johnny felt his heart drop even below his stomach, maybe it even popped. “Kenshi…”

“Every time we have this conversation, It’s the same thing. You wish you were the one who got blinded because you care about me so much”, It was true that Johnny cared but the way Kenshi said it, it felt wrong. “As if that would magically make things right. I’m telling you now, it wouldn’t.”

"That's not fair, Kenshi," Johnny urged. Part of him said it because the idea of a magical miracle didn’t seem entirely impossible, with Sento and all. But mostly, he wished Kenshi could see how he felt.

“But I chose to save you that day. I don’t regret it. I care about you. I’ve said this so many times now. Do you even listen?”

“I mean to be fair, things are still crazy? Right, Kenshi? You can’t blame me for feeling terrible, watching someone I love so dear dealing with–”

“Enough, Cage. You’re caught up in this insane self-absorbed idea that you’re the only one carrying a burden. I chose to save you. We’re here because of that choice. And I don’t regret it and never did, never will. Do you hear me?” Kenshi took a step back, as Johnny tried to reach his hand out. “But I can’t keep having this same conversation with you. I am not some sort of damsel in distress from your films.”

“That’s not what I meant, Kenshi..”

“No, it is exactly what you mean. You’ve convinced yourself that I’m some kind of victim in your story, that I need saving. Talk to me when your head is out of this insanity.”

“Kenshi–”

“Good night, Cage,” Johnny watched as Kenshi disappeared into the hallway, his figure disintegrating into the shadows.

Johnny’s arm fell limply onto the counter as a heavy sigh of defeat escaped him. His gaze was fixed on the untouched glass that Kenshi had set out. He couldn’t bring himself to put his cup away. He realized he had said things he had never voiced before, raw and unfiltered feelings. The worst part? Kenshi hadn’t reacted at all. He just left them there, in the kitchen, alone. A feeling much too familiar for it to even be comforting anymore.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

That night was a sleepless night for Johnny. He watched as the sun rose, the light blazing through the window.

He had work that day. He was finally beginning to film the Mortal Kombat movie he had been working so hard on. He was excited to be on set again, even if he wasn’t acting this time. Though he wasn’t stepping in front of the camera, the thought of being back on set should have filled him with excitement. Yet, for some reason, that familiar spark refused to ignite. Maybe a strong cup of coffee could help fan the flame. He went to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee. He couldn’t help but worry whether Kenshi would be up or not. Johnny hesitated for a moment before starting the coffee maker, the soft hum of the machine filling the way-too-quiet morning. His thoughts lingered on Kenshi.

Johnny glanced toward the hallway. Should I check on him? He dismissed the thought almost immediately. He was probably still upset from yesterday if he was still even in the house. He sighed, setting two coffee mugs down next to the untouched cup of water Kenshi had left behind. He stared at it for a moment, the silence of the house pressing in around him. Would Kenshi even want coffee?

He looked toward the hallway again, the faint morning light shining on the door of the room Kenshi stayed in as if it was calling his name. But he shook his head and filled his cup with coffee, leaving the other one empty. He couldn’t figure out whether he wanted to pour coffee for Kenshi.

Suddenly he thought of an idea. It would either be the dumbest or most decent idea he had that day.

He rummaged through a kitchen drawer until he found a pad of sticky notes. Peeling one-off, he grabbed a pen and wrote:

“To Kenshi,
Look, I know I messed up last night and said some stupid shit. I’m sorry.
I made some coffee if you wanna grab a cup. No pressure though.
Sincerely,
Johnny ‘Asshole’ Cage”

He stuck the note to an empty mug, set it beside the coffee pot, and walked away before he could even begin to second-guess himself. Johnny took a sip of his coffee, the warmth doing little to ease the tension in his chest. He leaned against the counter, staring at the mug and note he’d left for Kenshi. Was this stupid? Was this just another step towards stubborn?
He shook his head, no second-guessing, he set his cup down way too gently to avoid making any sound. “Get it together, Cage,” he muttered to himself. It wasn’t like him to obsess over someone else’s feelings—or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

With a deep breath, Johnny decided it was time to lock in and get ready for the day. It was a big day after all. He went back to his room, going straight for his huge closet. His eyes scanned for the perfect outfit. He saw a mix of numerous silky button-ups, designer suits, leather jackets, a shark suit, and the occasional kicker from his glory days.

What would a competent director wear?

He settled on a black button-up with his usual dress pants and his shiny silver watch. A spin on his signature Johnny Cage look. He grabbed a pair of matching signature Johnny Cage sunglasses before heading to look at the mirror.

Johnny shot finger guns at himself, adjusting his hair with practiced precision. “Damn. Cage. You look good.”

Johnny bounced on his feet, shaking out his arms in a half-hearted attempt to pump himself up. He needed to bring good energy to the set today—put his best foot forward. But as he caught his reflection in the mirror, and then he stopped. The energy drained from him in an instant. He sat down on the floor, curled up, and let out a long, heavy sigh.

For a while, he sat there, eyes closed, focusing on his breathing. In and out. The sound of his breathing was almost unnerving at that point, but he couldn’t bring himself to move just yet. “You got this, Carlton,” the words were more of a plea than a pep talk.
Eventually, he pushed himself up, grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys, and shoved them into his pockets. As he made his way toward the kitchen to finish his coffee, his steps slowed when he reached Kenshi’s door.

Johnny’s hand twitched, hovering on the door knob. He wanted to check in more than anything. Instead, he stood there for a moment, the silence pressing down on him like a weight. With a quick exhale, he dropped his hand and walked away.
He turned his wrist to look at his watch, and he realized he was running out of time. The crew would be on set soon and Johnny Cage could not be late. With a final glance at the empty mug, its attached note, and the notepad, he headed out the door.

But as he stepped into his car, the weight in his chest never lifted. If anything, it grew heavier. He wondered if Kenshi was still angry with him and whether Kenshi would even see the note.
“Pull it together,” he said, his voice firm but failing to convince himself. He started the engine, the roar of the car drowning out his spiraling thoughts—at least for now.

When Johnny returned home from the day’s shoot, the familiar quiet of his house was the first thing that hit him. The exhaustion from filming was there, but he felt better. Just being on set all day and having something to focus on helped, though he hadn’t heard from Kenshi all day, not even a word. It was expected. He was probably busy and never liked to text, to begin with.

He kicked off his shoes and walked toward the kitchen, ready to fix up a quick meal and maybe a drink—just to relax and unwind. But as he stepped into the kitchen, his eyes were immediately drawn to something on the counter: a post-it note next to a half-drunk cup of coffee.

Johnny’s heart skipped a beat. The small square of yellow paper felt enticing, felt like a heavyweight in his hands. He read it aloud to himself, his voice slightly above a whisper:

“Dear Johnny,
Don’t apologize. I understand.
Let’s talk soon.
Will be home by 12.
–Kenshi, Your Rockstar Samurai”

Johnny reread the note a couple of times, the words lingering in his mind longer than they should have. He chuckled, then laughed. Let’s talk soon.

Johnny glanced at the clock. 11:06 PM. Kenshi would be back in less than an hour. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath. The thought of facing Kenshi, actually sitting down and talking, made his chest tighten. But it wasn’t dread this time—it was anticipation. Hope, even.

He began making dinner, nothing huge like the night before. Something simple. Pasta with red sauce and cheese. Not the healthiest thing in the world, but oh well. As he boiled the water, he couldn’t help but think about what to say to Kenshi once he walked through that door. How could he find the right words? Somewhat ironic for a director to be saying, huh?

Just be yourself, Carlton.

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, Johnny set the table—not for a fancy dinner, but just enough to make the space feel less cold. He placed glasses out and a bottle of whiskey. He took the cheese he shredded and sprinkled some on his plate. Then he paused, how much cheese would Kenshi like? Instead of guessing, he just left it out for him.

At exactly 11:59, the front door clicked open. Johnny froze, turning toward the sound. Kenshi stepped inside, with his usual calm aura still clung to him. His sword, Sento, rested on his back, and his expression, though composed, seemed heavier than usual. He must’ve had a long day too.

“You’re still up.”

Johnny shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “First day on set. Wanted to get the perfect takes. The day ran a little long.”

Kenshi nodded slightly, gesturing at the table. The simple yet thoughtful setup didn’t escape his notice—the neatly set glasses, the whiskey, the shredded cheese waiting to be added. A faint smile lingered on his face, “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
“No, not at all. I got home less than an hour ago”, Johnny grinned, “Please, try Cage’s famous homemade pasta”

Kenshi scoffed as he walked to the table. Johnny grabbed the bowl of pasta and set it in front of Kenshi before taking a seat across from him. He slid the shredded cheese closer to Kenshi, “Take as much as you like”
They didn’t talk immediately. Johnny was still trying to figure out the right words to say. So, they ate in silence, the clinking of forks on plates was the only sound that filled the space. Johnny found himself glancing at Kenshi every so often, watching for any sign of what might be going through his head. Johnny wondered if he had anything in his mind that he specifically wanted to talk about. But Kenshi, as always, gave very little away.

“I’m still really sorry about yesterday, Kenshi. I said things I probably didn’t mean and I just–”

“Don’t apologize, remember? It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean anything you said.” Kenshi’s fork clicked as he said that. Johnny eyed him up and down, although Kenshi was good at not telling how he felt, he thought he could at least somewhat read his best friend. He seemed, disappointed. But why? Had Kenshi heard his subtle confessions?

“I guess”, Johnny said.

“You seem to be in a better head-space now though.”

Johnny paused mid-bite, then set his fork down. His face lightened up, “Yeah, I guess I am. Being back on set... it helped. I missed it.”

Kenshi nodded, taking another bite before speaking. “Good. I’m glad the movie is going well.”

Johnny hesitated, his gaze dropping to his plate. “...I missed you too,” he said softly, almost as if the words had slipped out before he could stop them. He looked up at Kenshi, looking into the red blindfold, begging for an expression he could perfectly read. “I’m still sorry for everything.”

Kenshi’s expression didn’t change, but his voice was gentler than usual. “I told you, Johnny. Don’t apologize. I am not upset with you. I just didn’t want you to say things you didn’t mean.”

Johnny swallowed hard, his chest tightening with a mix of relief and vulnerability. “Kenshi. You’re... important to me. Probably much more than I let on.”

A small smile touched Kenshi’s lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. But don’t pity me,” Kenshi added, his tone lighter now.

Johnny rolled his eyes and laughed softly. “I don’t pity you.”

“Then we’re good,” Kenshi said, nodding, seeming at least somewhat convinced. “Thank you for cooking again.”

“Anytime, man. How could I deprive you of my world-class culinary talent?” Cage replied, leaning into the table, his confidence practically radiating.

Kenshi raised a skeptical brow, jabbing his fork toward the sauce. He took another bite of the pasta, he smacked his lips, “Well, to be honest, the sauce could use, I don’t know, more salt or something.”

Johnny chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, that? I didn’t actually make the sauce. I bought it a few weeks ago.”

Kenshi tilted his head, his smirk sharpening. “What happened to Cage’s famous homemade pasta?”

“I lied,” Johnny admitted

He couldn’t help but burst into laughter, his amusement contagious, and Kenshi couldn’t help but join in, their shared laughter filling the room that Johnny had considered lonely only days ago.

Chapter Text

Johnny was two weeks into filming the new Mortal Kombat movie. He found himself getting oddly annoyed with the actor who played him. He just couldn’t seem to capture the character right. Johnny found himself obsessing over every scene, pushing for retakes that, objectively, might’ve been fine. As a result, he’d been coming home late almost every night.

That morning, while stumbling into the kitchen to make his usual coffee for himself and Kenshi, he paused. The coffee was already made. Beside the pot was a note:

“Home around 1AM. Don’t wait
Have a good day, my star Johnny”

Johnny couldn’t help but giggle at the scratched-out “my star,” the singular messy line doing a poor job of hiding the sentiment. It was just a little thing, but it warmed him, especially because Kenshi remembered that night. They hadn’t talked about it since, but now Johnny couldn’t stop grinning. At some points, Johnny believed that Kenshi simply forgot that night. Even while sipping his coffee, he kept the grin plastered on his face.

Despite Kenshi’s request not to wait, Johnny had already decided he would. Lately, their time together had been limited to their brief dinners that felt more like passing pit stops than real moments. Even then, they did not have dinner much together anymore. Johnny began leaving leftovers in the fridge with stickynotes since Kenshi would return home at absurd hours, and Johnny’s mornings started as the sun just began to shine. Their lives felt like two parallel tracks, so close yet never truly intersecting. A lot of their conversations were through their new sticky note method. Their worlds rarely collided. Tonight, Johnny was determined to change that.

The rest of the day crawled by, with Johnny, half-focused on his scenes and half-anticipating the evening. Filming was the usual chaos. Retakes, retakes, lighting adjustments, and the actor still failing to embody how Johnny saw himself. He seemed, straight-up dumb sometimes. Although he didn’t have a huge issue with being the comedic relief in his own movie, he wanted some scenes to actually have emotion, these angers lied with many scenes with Kenshi. Every time he tried to correct him, Johnny had to wrestle with the weirdness of critiquing someone purely because they didn’t seem to appreciate Kenshi enough in scenes. But why did he care if the chemistry was readable or not?

The thing is, he knew the answer. He really loved the man. Every time Kenshi was around, he wanted to put his best foot forward, do what would be best.

By the time he was finally tired enough to call it a day, it was late. He didn’t feel like cooking. So, Johnny swung by a takeout place on his way home, a random burger place that was still open. The bag of food balanced precariously in one hand as he unlocked the front door, the familiar creak of the hinges greeting him. Often, coming home to an empty house left him feeling hollow, as if the silence mirrored his own loneliness. But tonight was different. Though the house was still and quiet, it carried a warmth that filled him, leaving him feeling warm—even fulfilled.

By the time he finally got home it was nearing midnight. He still had a good hour before Kenshi would presumably get home. Instead of doing anything productive, he sat on his phone waiting for the door to click like a dog.
He waited and waited.

After a while, Johnny went to the kitchen. He saw the post-it note again. ‘My star’.

At exactly 2:34 AM, the door clicked.

“You waited,” Kenshi said, his voice tinged with both gratitude and concern, “I told you not to wait, Johnny”. Kenshi looked rough, sweaty, tired. And his hair was an absolute mess. Johnny had to fight the urge to not get up and fix it.
“And what made you think I’d listen to you?”

Kenshi chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You really didn’t have to.”

“How could I not?” Johnny retorted, his grin widening. “Come on, rockstar samurai.”

Kenshi groaned, the sound more amused than annoyed with the actor. “I’m still not too fond of that.”

Johnny arched an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. “Your notes tell me differently.”

“Alright, Johnny,” Kenshi said with a sigh, his smile betraying him. He stepped to the kitchen, his presence filling the space in a way that made the long wait worth it for Johnny.
“I just missed you, man”

“Missed you too, Johnny.”

Kenshi made his way to the sink, untying his blindfold with practiced ease. As the water ran, he meticulously washed the fabric, his movements calm and deliberate. Johnny leaned against the counter, watching in silence. Something about the scene stirred an unexpected tug in his chest.

Maybe it was the way Kenshi’s scars caught the light—faint but undeniable reminders of battles fought and lost. Or maybe it was just the quiet vulnerability of the moment. Johnny couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but the urge to close the distance and pull Kenshi into a hug crept over him.

He wasn’t upset anymore—not like before, at least.

Without thinking, Johnny wrapped his arms around Kenshi from behind, pulling him into a tight embrace. Kenshi flinched at first, then relaxed, allowing Johnny’s warmth to sink in.

“Something wrong?”

“No, I just- I need this, man. I missed you.”

“Okay, Johnny.”

Kenshi continued washing his blindfold with gentle, practiced motions, while Johnny nestled his head into Kenshi’s shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his movements, grounding him. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
Johnny started, his voice quieter and with his head still buried in Kenshi’s shoulder, “You still think I’m your star?”

Kenshi raised an eyebrow, his lips curving slightly into that knowing smile. “Hm?”

Johnny chuckled, his heart a little lighter now. “You’ve said it before, you know. My star.”

“Oh right, ”Kenshi tilted his head slightly, he lightly tapped on the sink. The running of the water ran into a silence, "You’ve always been my star."

Johnny didn't need to ask any further. He held onto Kenshi tightly, reluctant to break the embrace. The intensity of it almost worried Kenshi.

Kenshi’s hand brushed against Johnny’s head as he laid on him, the faintest echo of a sigh escaping his lips. “Things are okay.”

Chapter Text

Johnny shot up from his bed in a cold sweat, his heart racing as the vivid images clung to his mind. It had been the same one again, the one that refused to let him go.

Kenshi had been staying with him for nearly two months now, long enough for Johnny’s nightly awakenings to become impossible to hide. Kenshi had noticed the restless shifts, the way Johnny would jerk awake, panting, his eyes wide with fear. It became routine that Kenshi checked in on him, but Johnny never truly opened up about the nightmares. Instead, they talked about other things. Johnny would talk about an annoying guy at work and Kenshi would talk about how annoying it was to bring Sento around the city. Their late-night talks had brought them close, as if they had never separated to begin with.

Kenshi was hardly ever home, usually off helping his clan or something. They’d just share dinners occasionally and their midnight talks. Johnny didn’t know or mind. He had his movie to focus on. So they both kept busy. Yet tonight, as the nightmare gripped him once again, Johnny felt something else settle in his chest.

He heard the soft creak of the door, and when he looked up, he saw Kenshi leaning against the doorway. His figure was outlined by the dim light from the hallway, the sword still resting casually in his hand.

"You okay, Johnny?", Kenshi’s question had become something integrated into Johnny’s head. He had asked the same question in the same way for around three weeks now.

"Just peachy,", Johnny answered as he tried to laugh. The words sounded hollow, even to Johnny’s own ears.

"Right. Studios must be cheering over the fact you aren't acting anymore," Kenshi quipped, his tone dry. Johnny didn’t flinch at the joke; he’d heard it a hundred times, and most of the time, he could laugh along. But this time, it stung a bit.
"Ouch," Johnny managed to conjure a weak smile, sitting up against the headboard of the bed, trying to steady his breath.

Kenshi’s lips quirked into a small grin as he made gradual steps towards Johnny’s bed, his movements calm. “Apologies,” he said, though his tone held a teasing edge. But then it softened, the concern breaking through. “But seriously, what's wrong? You’ve been waking up from these nightmares every night, and you’ve yet to tell me what they're even about”.

Johnny scooted to the side of his bed, the mattress sinking beneath the weight of Kenshi’s presence as he sat down next to him. Johnny could tell that Kenshi kept his gaze intently on him. “It’s fine. It’s nothing really,” he said, though the words didn’t quite sound convincing. Even to him.

"It’s been over a month, Johnny. You know you can tell me" Kenshi’s voice softened but still laced with a subtle insistence. Kenshi straightened himself, his posture calm but attentive.

Johnny shrugged, his eyes laying on his golden clock on the wall. Kenshi had always been there when Johnny needed him, his chest tightened. Kenshi’s patience, his steady insistence—it was maddening. And yet, it was exactly what Johnny wanted. He hated how Kenshi could just sit there, listening, always waiting, even when he said stupid things.

“Get up. We’re going on a walk.”