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Smoke. There’s so much smoke, he can tell it’s too hot for someone normal to handle, but he’s only just starting to get warm. Over his own coughing he can hear someone else, it sounds too familiar to be a civilian, their coughing too weak. He runs through the smoke, squinting in an attempt to see anything as he follows the faint sound of someone struggling to breathe under the crackling fire and groaning of the building beginning to collapse in on itself. As he approaches what he assumes is the room the person is in, he sees them and freezes in place, a chill running through him despite the heat as he realizes who it is. He can’t say anything, can barely even breathe both through the smoke and from the fact that his lover is lying in the middle of a collapsed room, half crushed under the ceiling and a support beam, his arms reaching out and weakly pulling on the floor as if he’s trying to drag himself out. He hears the building groan louder, and looks up just as the ceiling above him caves in, knocking him to the ground and crushing him the same as it had to the other man.
Pepper’s eyes shoot open with a sharply drawn in breath at the noise of low creaking and something falling as he wakes, his hand instinctively reaching behind him to check if Kemuri is still alright lying beside him. Kemuri isn’t there. He won’t be for a long time. He sighs slowly as he remembers what had happened last week, why Kemuri wasn’t beside him as usual. He looks through the darkness of their his bedroom, spotting a shelf with a few books and trinkets that had fallen, causing the loud crashing noises that had woke him. As he takes in his surroundings, he registers the steady fall of rain on the roof, the creaking he heard having been trees outside swaying in the wind. He lies there for a while, the nightmare haunting his thoughts as he remembers how he wasn’t there, how he couldn’t save Kemuri. He knew he should’ve listened to his radio, he should’ve booked it across town to help with the fire, he could’ve done something, but instead he stayed in place, dealing with a stupid, useless petty crime of someone robbing a jewelry store like some cartoon. This was real life– real villains he could be fighting, like those who start fires, rather than some lowlife thief. He fought in a war, for the love of God, he could be doing so much more, saving so many more lives rather than stopping someone from stealing some ugly earrings. He rubs his hands over his face with a deep, shuddering sigh, only just noticing the tears running over his temples and wetting his hair. He then sits up with a groan, his whole body stiff and aching as if he’d actually been crushed like in his dream. He had no right to complain about it though, not when Kemuri had actually been crushed and burnt in that building, so he forces himself to swing his legs off the side of the bed and stand, grabbing his pain medication off of the bedside table and chucking it in the top drawer of forgotten, unused junk, as he planned for it to become, too.
Pepper heads out of his room, taking his time limping down the hall and down the stairs, finding himself in the kitchen with a cup of… water? He mostly hopes that’s what he filled the cup with, but a small part of his brain hopes it was something else, if the empty bottles scattered around the kitchen counter and living room tables were anything to go by. Taking a long drink from the cup confirms that it is water, and he sets it back down, rubbing his thumb over the slightly uneven rim. This cup was ceramic, a surprisingly well made little mug that Kemuri had made at a pottery class that Pepper dragged him to for a date. He complained nearly the whole time, but was clearly familiar with the clay, having only taken two attempts to make the mug. Pepper enjoyed the class a lot, but his cup had turned out so unwell that it was unusable as a drinking vessel, now on the bathroom counter only being used as a makeup brush holder. The memory makes him smile, but as soon as the joy comes, it’s stomped out by the sharp reminder that Kemuri is gone, and they won’t be able to go take a random class on another stupid date just for the hell of it anymore. He downs the rest of the water and stands, putting the mug in the sink with a few other dishes he still has yet to wash, and then returning upstairs to bed, though he doesn’t fall asleep easily, staring at the ceiling and turning from side to side for a few hours before he finally falls into a fitful sleep.
The next day Pepper wakes around noon, maybe a little later. He didn’t bother checking the time when he wandered to the kitchen, only staring at the contents of the fridge for nearly ten minutes, his eyes slowly flicking between leftovers that needed to be thrown out, some eggs, and other random ingredients that could probably be used before they went bad too. He sighs and grabs two eggs, not wanting to bother with thinking of how to actually put together a meal when he probably wouldn’t eat the whole thing anyway. He grabs a pan from the clean dish rack by the sink and sets it on the stove, cooking the two eggs without bothering to add any seasoning. Once they’re fully cooked, he doesn’t even bother with a plate, pulling the pan off the stove and setting it on a potholder at the kitchen island with a fork and eating it. As he finishes eating and stands to clean the pan, his receiver radio on the counter crackles, a nearby hero calling over it for assistance in reigning in a rowdy villain. He stares at it with the pan still in his hand, watching the little blinking light on it until the hero stops speaking. It reminds him of how last week when he had been trying to stop that jewelry store thief, how his receiver had gone off and how he’d ignored it, figuring that since he was across town, nearly in another city, he wouldn’t be able to get there before other heroes to help. He’d left it to the other heroes that were closer, and with leaving it out of his hands, he ruined any chances of saving his husband. He reaches over and turns the volume knob until it clicks, the constant static from it going silent as he turns it off, then turning and setting his pan in the sink with all the other dishes.
The day after that, Pepper finds himself lying on the living room couch wearing one of Kemuri’s old sleep shirts, an oversized one with small holes all over it and some absurdly hard to read death metal logo on it. It still smells faintly of smoke and Kemuri’s cologne, and just that scent alone sends Pepper into another sobbing fit, probably the fifth that day triggered by the littlest things. He turns onto his stomach as he chokes on his sobs, burying his face into a pillow leaned against the armrest and letting himself cry into it, raw gasping sounds following each shuddering exhale. Through his own struggling to breathe through his crying, a thought comes to his mind about how much Kemuri would have struggled in the fire, how he must’ve died excruciatingly slow, how he’d have to fight to keep breathing, how his time was so suddenly cut short. If Pepper had listened to his receiver and gone to help, he would’ve been able to handle the fire’s heat, he would’ve been able to save the people Kemuri was attempting to rescue, he could’ve saved Kemuri, but instead he had ignored it. His short time with Kemuri was cut shorter with his death, and now he didn’t even have the guaranteed at least sixty-ish years he would have had with him. He had to continue on past 100, knowing he hadn’t gotten to see Kemuri grow old with him, or at least older for Pepper, as his aging had been seeming to slow lately within recent years. He’d probably have to live hundreds of years knowing he could’ve saved Kemuri, knowing that he failed and that now Kemuri was gone far before he should have been, and because of him.
The day that Kemuri had died last week had seemed to be such a good day for Pepper too, at least before he found out. That morning… well, now he couldn’t even remember, but he knew that while he was out patrolling that he stopped a good amount of villains, he’d stopped that jewelry robbery, he hadn’t listened to his receiver and hadn’t saved Kemuri, he… God, he couldn’t remember anything else from that day, actually. He only remembered coming home to the empty house, sitting around for a bit before making dinner and sitting at the table, eating while he waited for Kemuri to come home. He’d opened his phone and checked the location of Kemuri’s phone, finding it to be at the site of that fire from a few hours earlier, assuming he’d stayed later to help with cleanup or rescues. As he went to set his phone down, it had rang with an incoming call from a hero he wasn’t very close with, which had confused him at the time because what reason could that hero possibly be calling him for at the hour? He was asked if he’d seen the news within the past hour, and he’d said no, now worried there was a major villain attack coming. He was then informed about the fire, and the casualties involved. He sat there silently for a while, listening to the hero spouting condolences and apologies for about five minutes before cutting him off and hanging up, hardly processing what he was just told. How should someone even act when they learn that their husband just died in a fire that they ignored to help with? He knew he couldn’t just continue on with dinner, so he scraped his plate in the trash, yet leaving Kemuri’s side of the table untouched. Surely he’d just come home later, surely it wasn’t his body they found in the rubble. There's plenty of German-looking people with gray-streaked black hair and black-accented green leather jackets in Tokyo, right? There had to be, it couldn’t have been Kemuri. Kemuri wouldn’t die in a fire, his quirk was manipulating smoke, he knew how dangerous fire could be. It wasn’t him. Right? The idea that it was Kemuri who had died was enough to turn Pepper’s stomach, and he drops the plate he’s holding, not even registering it as it crashes to the floor and shatters. He’s too busy focusing on keeping himself standing as the room spins and his breathing seems to stop as he leans over the trash can, bracing his hands on the rim as he heaves and retches, gasping for air as his stomach empties into the bin. The last thing he remembered that night was falling asleep on the couch sobbing, hoping he'd wake up and Kemuri would be in front of him, telling him it’d ruin his back to be sleeping on the couch like that. When he woke up the next day, Kemuri still wasn’t home, and that’s when the agony settled in.
Pepper is lying on the couch again, wrapped in one of Kemuri’s favored blankets, a dark green weighted one with a slightly ridged texture. He hears the doorbell ring, but ignores it, pulling the blanket tighter around himself and sighing heavily as he closes his eyes. He’s been trying to sleep for the last hour but has been painfully unsuccessful, simply rolling over onto one side, then his back, then his other side, then his stomach, then his side again. He half wondered if he’d become a hotdog at this point with how much he’s been rotating trying to get comfortable. As soon as he feels his mind drifting off, someone knocks hard on his door, then ringing the doorbell multiple times in a row annoyingly. This strategy works, making Pepper stand with the blanket still wrapped around himself as he walks over to the door and opens it, opening his mouth to tell whoever is on the other side to leave but clicking his jaw shut immediately as he sees who is on there, and what they’re holding. It’s one of his closer friends, Mirio, also known as the hero Lemillion. His face doesn’t hold his usual bright smile, but rather a more soft, sad one as he hesitantly holds out the items in his hands. In one hand, there’s a black-accented green leather jacket, and in the other is a cracked pair of round sunglasses. Pepper isn’t sure how to react, simply staring at the items in Mirio's hands for a long moment before reaching out and very carefully taking them, as if he’s scared they’ll disintegrate at his touch. The jacket is charred in some spots, a little torn up in others, and mostly bloody on the inside. The glasses are cracked, the frames a little bent, and marked with small smudges of dried blood as well. He silently holds them, rubbing his thumb over the collar of the jacket gently as he feels a deep tightness settle in his chest, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes start stinging. He looks back up at Mirio, asking how he got them. His voice is quiet and hoarse from how long it’s been since he’s talked, and he has to restart his sentence a couple times before he gets through it without a voice crack, but he still manages to speak. Mirio tells him that he had helped with cleanup and recovery, and that when clearing the debris of a room he’d found the jacket and glasses, and knowing that they were Kemuri’s, thought he should return them to Pepper. It’s barely a few seconds after Mirio leaves before Pepper is sobbing, holding the glasses and jacket close to his chest like they’re the most delicate, precious items in the world.
That night, Pepper received a message from someone he almost didn’t recognize in his contacts, nearly ignoring it as he swipes away the many messages from coworkers, acquaintances, and random people that somehow got his number. His eyes linger for a moment on the most recent messages between him and Kemuri, and he smiles softly at the clearly affectionate response of ‘I will, ilyt tiger’ to his message of ‘Be careful out there today, love you’. Even though Pepper had told him to be careful, he couldn’t find it in him to be mad that Kemuri had died in that fire. It wasn’t his fault, he was trying to save someone, and if Pepper should be angry at anyone, it’s at himself for not going to help. He exits the conversation and clicks on the most recent message from someone in his contacts, a relative of Kemuri’s. They’re asking if he would like to go over to Germany for Kemuri’s funeral and give a few words. He almost hesitates, but responds with a yes, and gets the date, time, and location details saved in his phone. It would be the following week on a Tuesday afternoon. Kemuri died on a Tuesday. Pepper tries not to think about it, though, and heads for his room, glancing at the untouched half that was Kemuri’s. He turns to his closet and sets out his nice black suit in a small suitcase, then turns and looks at Kemuri’s half again, stepping over to his dresser and glancing through his jewelry, not finding any bracelets or rings he would want to wear, nor any necklaces, but he does find a nice tie clip shaped like a star. He grabs it and sets it with the suit, also grabbing his wedding ring from his own dresser and setting it in the suitcase, wondering if Kemuri’s band had gotten lost in the wreckage of the fire, or if it had maybe gotten stuck to his body from the heat.
At the funeral the following week, members of Kemuri’s family gave little speeches, some of his friends gave longer ones, and then Pepper gave his, long and a little rambly, especially with him crying nearly through the whole thing. After the speeches and gathering, he walked up to the casket, staring at the closed lid silently. He wished he had more time, wished he could say just one last thing, but even if he did, he wouldn’t know what to do or say, so he just rests his hand on top of the smooth wood, rubbing his thumb over the edge for a moment before bowing in respect and turning away, leaving the building so he could head to the cemetery for the burial.
At the burial, Pepper stays closer to the front, but still off to the side, watching as Kemuri’s casket is lowered into the grave, his hand on his tie and gently fiddling with Kemuri’s tie clip he’d put on. Once the service is concluded, he approaches the still-open grave and bends down, kissing a small bunch of cherry blossoms and lilies before gently dropping it on top of the casket and standing, leaving so the grave can be filled in.
A couple days later, Pepper returns to the grave, sitting in front of the headstone for a while and carefully fixing some flowers in the vase beside it. He’d brought Kemuri’s leather jacket, carefully holding it in his lap as he sat there for a while, simply taking one last moment to sit with his beloved before he had to go back home to Japan. He unfolds the jacket, now having been cleaned since Mirio returned it to him, and puts it on, sticking his hands in the pockets. He feels a little lump on the inside of the jacket, and unzips it to see what might be in any of the inside pockets, maybe a rock or something. He unzips a smaller inner pocket and reaches in, pulling out a ring. It’s Kemuri’s wedding band, tied to a keyring that's sewn into the inside of the pocket, most likely for keys or something, but Kemuri had attached his wedding band to it, likely so he could never lose it. Pepper carefully unties it from the keyring and pulls it out, turning it around in his fingers for a moment and taking in the beautiful black band with little inlaid details around it, still as shiny and beautiful as the day Kemuri had picked it out. He slides it onto his left ring finger, lining up the v-shape curve of it to his own wedding ring, smiling as the two halves come together snugly, making them look like one slightly long ring. He then shifts backwards a little bit, leaning forward onto his knees and forearms, pressing his forehead to the still-fresh dirt of the grave and giving one last quiet goodbye.