A/N: not beta'd. AU!future-verse.
Akashi had known as far back as during his days on the Teiko court and his odd skill came to light — known that one day his sight would deteriorate and leave him sightless. He knew that continued strain would only quicken the process and any chance of remaining sight would deplete to the single-digits. He knew, but if anyone were infallible it was he, surely an equal with the angels or heaven or the demons of hell.
A little part of him knew that wasn't true, but Akashi pretended like he did not doubt and stood alone on the highest pedestal of all. If he had to fall, it was going to be catastrophic.
Shintarou had known. Shintarou always knew, really. It came as no surprise to him when a familiar face appeared in his clinic, aided by a hired hand. That extra limb was fired and replaced with the temperamental doctor, who took it upon himself to care diligently for the blind ex-captain.
It was only right, after all; Seijuuro shaped Midorima into the man he became, therefore it was his duty to see to him until his last breath — that's what Midorima would say when questioned.
Akashi found the notion vaguely romantic.
No one was to pity him. He was still intelligent, keen mind untouched by the lack of vision, and still quite fearsome. Maybe even more so, since he developed an excellent sense of direction and complicated mental mapping skills to compensate for his loss. He could navigate the home he shared with the doctor without any assistance, unless someone moved a piece of furniture without alerting him first.
He swore Midorima did it on purpose sometimes — this realization was brought to light as he lay against the cool rug having lost his footing to a wayward chair.
They don't argue often, but when they do their verbal exchanges are short and terse. Even though Akashi cannot see, Shintarou cannot hide much from him. Though Shintarou sits in his chair with a furrowed brow and a scowl, it isn't long before the smaller male is in his lap and tracing the contours of his cheeks and brushing his calloused fingertips along the long lashes hidden behind a wall of glass, now discarded rendering both of them legally blind.
Sometimes Akashi drops Midorima's glasses purposely where he cannot find them easily — it's thrilling to map one another's most intimate places relying only on past experience and instinct; it proves how in-tune the ex-captain and ex-vice really are.
Often when Shintarou believes Seijuuro to be lost in the throws of dreamland, the taller male tucks his petite partner closer and dips his head to press kisses as soft as the blankets beneath him against the pale expanse of Akashi's eyelids, his brow, his temple; but Akashi is not asleep, and he knows the shudders that travel through his lover are the tears that Akashi does not shed, so he does not break the mournful silence of the night and confirm his consciousness.
Akashi likes to seat himself beside Shintarou at the large grand piano the redhead so generously gifted to his caretaker last winter and run his hands over the doctor's as he plays melodies as soft as the snow fall outside their windows. He can feel the weight of Shintarou's gaze and smiles a little matter-of-fact smile.
He is cut off from the rest of the world, but he does not miss it; he has Shintarou to fill the empty void, and Midorima is more than happy to do so.