Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ To Sedate ❯ Chapter 10 ( Chapter 10 )

Here's yet another chapter. Standard disclaimers apply, so please don't sue my muses or I. However, PLEASE do review. Feed the muses. I'm not going to point a gun at this story for lack of reviews, because writing should be a passion and I shouldn't substitute it for just the idea of getting reviews. They are very nice, though. Please, if you have the time, do review. And, of course, I can't thank everyone enough for reviewing before. I think your feedback is part of the reason I can keep going on a roll like this.

 

I know I wanted to say something else, but I've already written enough. So… enjoy…. I guess.

 

 

 

To Sedate- Chapter 10

 

A gravestone marked “Alexei Zhivago.” Not many other markings adorned it, save the year of birth and the year of death. 31 October 1959 to 28 November 1981. There was no explanation bearing his relation to anybody, or the place of birth though it implied that the person once alive had been born in Russia, and had moved to Japan for some reason beyond explanation now. In Fuji's head, it would probably be a blur how he and Tenshi sat there that night, looking up at the stars as a gentle breeze blew. Yet, in Tenshi's head, it would be forever imprinted, not by accident, but on purpose. Tenshi always wanted to be able to remember Fuji.

 

No flowers, no markings, no sign of anyone having mourned his death. Yet, why should it be expected? Alexei Zhivago had died a long time ago. Not a lot of the graves showed signs of the families still visiting their graves but some did, and the tombstone engraved with the Russian's name looked so oddly empty. Fuji made a mental note to lay a single flower on the man's grave, though he didn't know why exactly it would matter.

 

After all, he didn't know the man.

Alexei Zhivago would never make a difference in his life.

 

He would probably never make a difference by placing flowers on his grave.

 

If he did leave flowers, though, the grave would be brighter, and it would be a happier place. At least, that was the conclusion that Fuji had come to. He hadn't even thought about telling Tenshi about it. As outrageous as the man could be sometimes, he wouldn't have seen the point in leaving flowers on the grave. Fuji kept the idea as a private matter all his own.

 

Yet somehow, in his heart, he felt like the flower was of grave importance, and he promised himself that he would put one flower down by the tombstone that weekend as soon as he got out of school.

 

Perhaps it was an old instinct, the feeling that the dead were something of a surreal subject, that either needed exploration or honor. Why that tombstone and not another one, Fuji didn't know. That had been the first one he had seen, but certainly not the only foreigner's grave that looked as if it needed some flowers put on. However, the boy was very set on putting at least one flower down on that specific grave.

 

A gravestone; there was only a name, a year of birth, and a year of death. The information was surprisingly little, yet all one needed to know everything they might have needed to know about the person. It never really mattered to know what the person had been like in real life, after all, as long as it wasn't involved with a murder or forensics case. With a final note one would stare at it, tilting their head to the side slightly and pondering why the space on solid, polished rock looked so empty, so devoid of information. The place was peaceful, yet surrounded by an aura of its own, as if the gravesite had a personality of its own.

 

Maybe that was why Tenshi liked it so much, not for the peacefulness or the natural settings, but because it seemed to have a personality which went along well with Tenshi's, though nobody could really give words to support the idea that an inanimate object, especially a gravesite, would have a personality of its own. That was, as long as one didn't believe in ghosts. Fuji didn't; he'd never really been partial to the concepts of the supernatural. He'd go along with some of them for fun, but he didn't really like to think there were invisible sprits wandering around, those who “had yet to find peace”.

 

And Fuji had indeed gone and bought a single flower that weekend, a delicate, fragile daisy, a simple flower, but something he'd decided was best. Really, he'd never know all those types of flowers, like the flower of death and the flower of romance, so he'd done it to avoid mistake. The delicate petals rested slightly off his fingers, and slowly he set down the daisy and walked away. With that only, the place seemed a lot friendlier. And afterwards, he would lie on his back letting the wind ruffle through his hair lightly, carrying his worries away with the passing breeze. Sighing, he would let them go, as they slipped through his fingers like silvery thread.

 

Yet, somehow, one refused to let go no matter how much Fuji tugged at it, and that was Tezuka's face, forever implanted within his mind, almost like some sort of marker. Fuji squinted, and the sunlight brightened until the scene faded from him, colors morphing to a bright white. All too soon, it was too blinding to keep his eyes open, and Fuji closed his eyes, letting go of himself.

 

“Tenshama, how has Fuji been doing?” The old man's check-ups on Tenshi's progress had become a regular affair among daily life. Tenshi, though, didn't know why the man bothered. He never really knew how exactly he got the information he did, but when Tenshi did something wrong; he almost always seemed to know. The man may have been older than Fuji, but he was still technically pretty young, and he had yet to fully master the skill of understanding the man he took orders from.

 

“Shuusuke was hit by a car,” Tenshi's voice still held visible traces of worry and fear, so strong that they were tangible. Obviously, with time, Tenshi's fear of the worst was beginning to grow, and it had only been two days. They still didn't know whether or not he'd be all right.

 

“Now, Tenshama,” the man reprimanded. “Remember; you're in Japan. It isn't proper for you to be calling him by his given name.” He stroked his long beard pensively, his voice gruff and stern. “I'm sure that Fuji is at least a little uncomfortable by it. Really, if you're planning to keep his trust, you should be polite. Understood?”

 

“Yes, sir.” He replied, almost emotionlessly. The trees above them were silent; motionless. “Sir, what about him? Do you think he's going to pull through?” His frown deepened. The old man wasn't used to this sort of seriousness coming from the young adult, the underlying of a hidden obsession that perhaps Tenshi wasn't even aware of, something that was so subtle, yet something that played such a large impact on his thoughts and behaviors.

 

“Well, I don't know. I suppose it could go either way, don't you think?” the man asked.

 

“I couldn't do anything to help him… it's like once again, I wasn't even tangible to him. I sure wasn't tangible to that Tezuka boy.” His worry seemed to exceed things a little.

 

“Leave things up to fate. Fuji's health will probably pull through if Fuji wants it to.”

 

“He seemed to have his mind so set on his dying,” Tenshi protested, his tone upset and maybe even a little bit hurt by the older man's response. Warily, the boy standing behind him shifted on his feet, his eyes carefully fixed on Tenshi as if he was summing him up.

 

“Then it will be that way. There are only so many things that you are able to do, Tenshama. If Fuji wants to die, then there isn't much that you're going to be able to do that will change his mind. Sometimes these things can be prevented, but as far as we know, this wasn't a suicide attempt. Some people just never pull through those accidents. Maybe they sense they'll never be normal again and some just stop trying. Sometimes there's that driving will, though, that will to live that makes miracles happen.”

 

“But there has to be-“ His angry protest, rising in volume was cut silent by a curt, stern voice. Weakly, Tenshi's voice fell back, though not by much. It took a few minutes and a few words from the old man to make him truly settle down.

 

“No.” The man said firmly, stubbornly. Never showing much retaliation, he didn't back down in his stern tone of voice, which always dictated what Tenshi would and wouldn't do. However, his voice softened just a fraction, quiet in a way to acknowledge that Tenshi was only saying this out of concern for Fuji. And, with his reasoning intact, Tenshi wasn't trying anything with Fuji anymore, and the job he had been assigned to would be a successful one without the idea of a… relationship. “Teach yourself the discipline of letting go, Tenshama. If Fuji dies, that is life. Not everyone can be saved, so it is best to brace yourself. Don't get attached. Fuji won't live forever.”

 

“Why haven't you been visiting the hospital?” he asked, turning his head towards him in a slightly curious gesture. “After all, you seem extremely concerned about him.”

 

“I tried,” said Tenshi. “There's a nurse that's been hanging around there, though… she seems to know. She keeps staring hard in my direction whenever I was there. She gets off her shift at about midnight, though, so I can go see Fuji for a few hours, then.” That glare of the nurse's wasn't just unnerving; it frightened him slightly. Before he'd met her, he thought only the old man could give glares that cold, but he seemed to have met somebody who could top it easily.

 

“I see,” said the old man. Behind him, the little child stood at his heels, glaring over at Tenshi with cool eyes. Tenshi had always disliked those eyes. They were far too calculating for that little slender body, rather than the ones that would be expected, the ones filled with innocence and playfulness. No, just one glance at this child told even the most uneducated person that he had seen it all, and when it came to life, he took everything with the utmost of seriousness, so much that it wasn't even funny. “Then just be a little more careful. It isn't every day that you come across a person as sharp as this. Be on your guard.”

 

The last phrase reminded him strangely of the Tezuka kid, who always seemed to be telling the entire Seishun Gakuen tennis club to never let their guards down. It was like his trademark saying, aside from the slightly amusing fact that he seemed to have a liking for issuing punishment laps. The boy was interesting in the fact that he seemed stone cold on the outside, stern and strict, yet that Tenshi had seen glimpses of a completely different other self that suggested otherwise. Tenshi thought he cared inside, but it was covered by that sternness so much that it was hard to tell anymore, especially since Tezuka didn't seem to care very much for the idea of showing many emotions at all. Maybe he thought they were a weakness, betraying stray thoughts to opponents.

 

“Yes, sir,” was his monotonous reply, although the warning was warranted. That nurse's gaze had worried him slightly the first time. It had been cold and piercing, enough that Tenshi had to leave the room reluctantly from Fuji's side while she took a hold of the prodigy's wrist and changed the IV. Tenshi didn't like the look of him, lying on that bed, unconscious, and having four or five different needles sticking out of one arm, his right. One, he guessed, was for fluids, but there were others he could only guess. One might've been for a blood transfusion, since Fuji lost so much blood, and one might've even been some sort of painkiller or morphine. Tenshi wouldn't have known since he had never taken any sort of anatomy or health class.

 

“Now, onto what I wanted to talk to you about today,” the man said. His voice was serious, but the phrase could've been coined for a casual conversation at British “teatime” “I wanted to know if you've told Fuji about anything yet. Why you're with him, I mean.” Tenshi paused for a moment, and frowned. Obviously, that was a negative response. After all, Tenshi was the sort of person who liked to twist the truth, and make the person have to think unconventionally to find the answers. Tenshi's eyes were flicked downwards. He hadn't wanted to tell Fuji, for somehow, he thought the idea would diminish Fuji's view on him, and Fuji was of vital emotional importance, the sole purpose he was able to find in life, and somebody whom he had grown to be able to call a friend.

 

“No.” His voice was drier than what could've been expected to him, though not stern like Tezuka's voice when he ordered the regulars to do laps around the tennis courts. Fuji's allusive blue eyes haunted his thoughts, and he hung over them for a while.

 

“Then I want you to tell him tonight. Fuji needs to know what is going on now.” Light-colored eyes widened for a fraction of a second as if something painful was haunting him, an invariably escapable thought plaguing him that he wanted to get rid of. Of course he wanted to say no, and there was a pessimistic part that wanted to tell the old man in an almost snide sort of way that Fuji was probably going to have surgery tonight, or something of the sort. That, or Fuji could be dead. It was like a roll of the dice, and Tenshi for once didn't want to see how it was going to turn out. He just wished for things to go back to the way they were, as if somebody was pressing the rewind button on a video cassette player.

 

“What if he isn't conscious tonight? The doctors said he was conscious once, but he was delirious, and I wasn't there.”

 

“Don't take my meaning literally. As soon as you can talk and he can hear you, you will tell him.” His voice held a sort of finality to it, and Tenshi though argumentative and slightly stubborn in nature, knew not to argue it. It wasn't worth the risk of invoking the old man's anger, which was one of the few things on planet Earth that scared him out of his wits.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Very well, then.” He said, nodding to Tenshi. Tenshi usually would've taken that as a gesture to leave, since he only gave orders and then asked Tenshi to leave. After all, Tenshi was supposed to focus on Fuji. The old man liked to be more businesslike in saying that he needed to focus on the client, although Fuji wasn't a client even in the slightest. Today, however, he stopped Tenshi, as he was about to leave.

 

“I'd like to know what exactly happened to Fuji.” He said, his voice being enough to pull Tenshama back over towards him. “Tell me the extent of his injuries,” the man said, expecting that Tenshi would know it since it was expected of him that he stay near Fuji whenever possible. “Tell me what course of action the doctors are planning to take.” Tenshi wanted to ask why he needed to know all this, but he knew better than to question.

 

Tenshi had to pause for a moment, as it took a few seconds in order to recall what exactly was happening, and what needed to be said. “Well, it's confirmed he had four broken ribs. There was a lot of internal bleeding by the area, the finally managed to stop it, though. They've been giving him a lot of blood transfusions, too.” he didn't understand anything of what he was saying; only saying it by memory because he knew nothing of the human body or how to word injuries correctly.

 

“There didn't seem to be anything physically wrong with Fuji's lungs aside from some fluid buildup there, some blood, I think. They helped that now, and they're talking about getting him into surgery as soon as possible, too. The surgery's to fix his rib. In his leg he has four broken bones and a fractured… the patella.” The doctor had used the term, and he wasn't sure what he had meant. The doctor hadn't explained the term, either. They said they'd need to do some minor surgery on it. He has slight nerve damage in that leg, too, so he might eventually have to go to America to help with that if physical therapy here doesn't help.”

 

They did an MRI, and his head seems okay. They kept talking about brain damage, but they say now he's lucky because it was just a cut on his head… that the only extent of lasting damage he'll have is the possibility of slight headaches until the cut across his forehead heals. They said something about diminished eyesight, too.” All this was recited mechanically, with Tenshi not knowing most of what he had said. However, he'd been trained to be able to gather and recite information even if he wasn't able to understand that, and he was doing so exactly now.

 

“His arms were bruised and scraped at the least. They aren't injured, at least. They say the reason he probably didn't have brain damage because he instinctively took much of the impact of the initial hit by spreading it out on his arms and legs rather then skidding across the pavement entirely on his head.” He stopped for a moment, but the older man nodded as if to motion for him to go on. It took Tenshi a few minutes to continue, perhaps because his memory strained to remember how exactly the doctor had worded it. To him, a person whom had never been educated in medicine, some of the complicated terminology was far beyond his knowledge, so he relied directly on his memories rather than personal knowledge on the subject. Already, he had spoken with much detail, but the older man seemed to want to know what else was going on. Perhaps this was the man's way of showing concerned.

 

“Anyways… they said something about trying a surgery within the next few days, they said they're going to try the surgery, but they're watching some of the cuts on his legs, because they're very worried about an infection that's been building slightly near a gash by his ankle that's seems highly resistant to antibiotics. So they don't know how it's going to go, yet.”

 

There was silence, and Tenshi had nothing left to say. Worried, he let his head droop. He was able to get a few things out of the long rant. Fuji was hurt, and the car had hit him so fast that even after the first too days, they weren't very sure if he would still live or not. Things were looking up for Fuji, though. Now, he seemed to be at least a little bit better, but the doctor always kept talking about Fuji's will. The man was saying Fuji wasn't giving much of a fighting spirit, and with that sort of attitude, it was likely that Fuji's condition would decline quickly after the surgery.

 

Last night, he'd sat by Fuji's side for quite a few hours, after that nurse had left, of course. There was a clock on the wall that read early, around two in the morning. Yet somehow, the dark-eyed, light-haired man wasn't showing any signs of fatigue. He was just having a sort of staring contest with Fuji's unconscious form, as if there was something he would discover from it if he scrutinized him.

 

Fuji's pitiful state made him want to punch somebody in the face, so much that whenever a nurse or a doctor came in the room to check up on him or write something on his chart, that he had to keep his fists and teeth clenched for fear he would really do something to harm them. Really, they didn't deserve it. They were trying to help Fuji, not hurt him. What should he have spent the anger on, though? It just really hurt his heart to see Fuji like this.

 

Unlike when he'd been hit by the car, his breathing was aided and came a lot easier. The rise and fall of his chest was peaceful. Then again, that was the only natural thing about him. They hadn't been able to put a cast on Fuji's leg, so it was slung and slightly swollen though the doctor had given him a large dose of medication to keep the swelling to a minimum. His arms were both bruised and bandages along with those caused by the IV needles; his uniform had been replaced with a bleached, stiff white hospital robe. IV's ran to his wrist and forearm. Even his skin was a little paler. With that his normally light-looking hair appeared slightly darker, while his skin tone blended into the bandages wrapped around his head more and more each day.

 

The day would blend into night, the beautiful reds of the sunset dying the sky a beautiful array of colors. The nurse wasn't around that much today. Maybe she had a day off. Tenshi found himself once again in the sterile hospital room, which he really did hate, but would remain in for Fuji's sake. He was never quite sure that he would be able to get used to the smell of bleach and antiseptic in the air; the place was far too clean, taking on a rather mechanical environment as a result. The blinds in the window of the room were drawn, but some last remaining rays of sunlight escaped, falling into strips on the bed, touching Fuji's skin and dying it a light orange.

 

Pressing his dry lips together for a moment, he memorized Fuji there, lying in the bed so hurt. The sketchy details came to him first, but he felt like he needed to remember it, just in case this was the last he would see of Fuji alive. It hurt, and Tenshi had lost his smile, the cheesy smile that sometimes made Fuji laugh slightly. His eyelashes fluttered, rarely revealing dark orbs, full of the fact that he was a stranger to this land. Fuji sometimes talked deliberately slow around him, but the nurses and doctors, who couldn't see him, talked a fast and complicated form of Japanese with many sorts of medical terms that Tenshi wouldn't know very well unless he made an effort to look them up in the dictionary.

 

Again, he was being reminded that he really out of place here, no matter how long it would take him to learn the language. No matter how much he perfected Japanese as a language, he would always have the voice and a mind of a foreigner, looking upon the Japanese life from the sidelines. Here, he only had Fuji.

 

“Shuusuke.” His fingers reached out and brushed the forehead of the boy he'd grown so close to, a boy whom he admired for his strength, yet was allowed to comfort in times of hardship. Those hardships had become more and more frequent. Tenshi wouldn't be surprised if the Tezuka boy were able to reciprocate his feelings without question. Tezuka, though, being a person to probably believe in the phrase “actions speak louder than words,” would take a long time to actually decide that those feelings were worth voicing.

 

Tezuka would have the power to get closer to him, and Tenshi would once again be a bystander, yet he didn't want to be. The old man, though, had a strict policy against relationships with whom he was working with. Already he'd been re-assigned three times, and his position was beginning to be questioned. If Tenshi was only interested in relationships, and was never able to let go, then he wouldn't be able to do his job. Something special about Fuji drew him more to him than others, almost like a magnet would, and the sound of the word pervert fell painfully upon his ears to think that Fuji, such a beautiful young man, was only fifteen. Sure, in all technicality, he wasn't too much older, but as he believed, there was a rule saying Fuji wasn't of age, and it was improper for him to be obsessed with such a young boy.

 

And remembering the old man's words, he had to painfully admit that it would never even work.

 

No matter how much he reminded himself of that, thoughts of Fuji would not leave his head, and his hand remained firmly glued to Fuji's face, shifting slightly against the skin of his cheek, almost in a way, trying to invoke a sort of response from Fuji, a groan, a knowing blink, a hand pushing away his own, anything. There was no such thing. Fuji's eyes remained shut, and slowly as all feeling faded away, he drew back his hand, with his fingers trailing lightly against Fuji's mouth before lifting, and returning to a more proper place.

 

He scrutinized Fuji again, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Why did you do this to yourself?” He placed his hands in his lap and leaned slightly over the hospital bed avoiding the IV line in order to get a better view of Fuji's voice. There was no response from the silent body, only the gentle sound of inhaling and exhaling. Out in the hallway, there was the panicked cry of a nurse as she called for a doctor in another room. “How could you let this happen to yourself? You had so much going for you. You could've been successful—you still can be successful.” This was like talking a wall, he got no response whatsoever from the unconscious form slightly below his line of view.

 

Fuji might have even lived a life that he would've desired for many of the years he was a teenager. Fuji was in almost every way perfect. He was a prodigy and things came quite easily to him. He was even popular, among male and female alike. Girls loved him and wished to date him. Boys respected him, and maybe even some of the unpopular students wished that they could be him because he got so much attention from the opposite sex, and on occasion from the same sex, in instance of Tenshi, mostly. Shadowing his personality was a fierce protectiveness, especially of his brother. The supposed sadistic nature made him infamous on the tennis courts, and from the serious matched Tenshi had seen him play, it became obvious to him that Fuji was only extremely serious when playing with somebody who really tested his abilities, namely Tezuka. This, Tenshi admired it all. His fingers clenched the white sheets on the bed. They felt scratchy and stiff beneath his fingertips.

 

Darkness was brewing within his eyes, a darkness that had rarely brewed within his eyes. Tenshi realized in all the time he had walking the world; he had never really adjusted to the thought of having let go. All he could do was fight angrily about it, protesting that it wasn't fair because Fuji was far to young to die, and he least of all deserved it. Fuji was only fifteen, a very young age. He was supposed to go to a good high school with Tezuka. He was supposed to be happy. Namely, Fuji Shuusuke was supposed to have a bright future ahead of him. This wasn't very bright though, was it?

 

“Shuusuke,” he shook his head, the name passing his lips dryly and painfully, as if it were venomous. “Come on, don't die. You know there are people out there that need you. Your family needs you. Your friends need you.” I need you. Tenshi conveniently left that part out. This wasn't about him. He wasn't the one who needed support. Fuji was the one who was supposed to need his support, not the other way around. Tenshi didn't expect a response from the boy, but the words slipped from his lips anyways.

 

“You understand, right?” he queried, playing with Fuji's bangs slightly and letting a pregnant pause flow through his speech, as if he was giving Fuji time to give input, as if he was able to hear the boys words even though his lips weren't moving. There was no affirmative response, but Tenshi would've liked to pretend that the boy had said yes. Moving strands of hair away from the fabric of the bandages wrapped across his head, Tenshi did a rather out-of-character thing, and sighed. His fingers unwillingly drew away from Fuji for just a moment, shaking slightly when they did.

 

A ray of moonlight cast pale slits of shadows across the bed, this time making Fuji's skin seem to glow with a pale eminence. Tenshi paused from his thoughts in order to look out the window. It had gotten late. The sun had set without him noticing. Turning back to the boy on the bed, he tried to smile, since a small smile had grown on the boy's face. That smile was able to do amazing things. It brought a very light smile to his face. Casually, he adjusted the sheets, pulling the white, stiff excuse of a cover up to Fuji's neck, covering him completely save for his left arm, which was laying underside up since that was the arm that all the IV's were in for now. It was a fatherly, affectionate gesture, but Tenshi would've preferred it if he didn't need to do this in the first place, and would be able to spend this time making pleasant conversation with the prodigy. Fuji looked so peaceful sleeping there. Oh, how Tenshi wished he were awake…

 

Tears were still building lightly at the corner of his eyes, and at times like this, he wished that he would be able to break down in tears for his friend if it hadn't been so out of place. He really wanted to maintain the idea that he could remain strong, yet his shaking hand, currently petting Fuji's head, said otherwise. It kept shaking slightly, as if Tenshi had some sort of problem with his nerves that he cared not to correct.

”Live for my sake and the sake of everyone else around you if not for your own, okay, Shuusuke?” His voice was softer, this time, and he leaned down to kiss his forehead, still such an innocent gesture, something that he wouldn't get in trouble for if discovered. Tenshi paused slightly after that, knowing very well that if were discovered giving much more affection to Fuji, then he would lose his job probably permanently. This time, he wouldn't be given patience, and he wouldn't be reassigned. His job was his only connection to Fuji. If he wasn't hear, he wouldn't be able to be with Fuji at all, and at the time, he couldn't bare to stay away from him. Call it infatuation, call it lust, call it whatever, but Tenshi knew that he was hopelessly attracted, even if he wanted desperately for Fuji to be happy with Tezuka. His fingers clenched and unclenched a few times, as if he was trying to grasp something.

 

“Okay?” he asked once more, as if to confirm something, even though Fuji wasn't awake to hear it. “All right, Shuusuke?” his voice was slightly coarse and uneven his tone rose a little, as if trying to invoke a response from him. His finger was pressing the soft skin of Fuji's lips with a gentle downward pressure while a deep frown crossed his own lips, for he didn't know what exactly there was to do. His form cast a shadow across Fuji, blocking away the moonlight.

 

. Even though he knew it would cause future problems, and even the possibility of emotional problems with Fuji later, he leaned down and brushed a soft, yet lingering kiss to Fuji's lips. Fuji had never liked being kissed by him, but unconscious his body was frighteningly silent and still. Fuji's lips were slightly moist, giving stark contrast to his dry, chapped lips. The kiss lingered for a minute or so before he drew back completely, as if to give apologies to the unconscious Fuji. His lips tingled slightly, but he knew Fuji would've disapproved. Awake, he would've pushed him away. Only slightly, Fuji shifted beneath the sheets, his arm tugging at the IV slightly before coming to a rest.

 

It didn't hurt to dream, though, did it?

 

No, he supposed not.

 

Fuji's lips creased into a frown and without thinking, Tenshi mimicked the gesture, slightly worried about it. With the boy's eyebrows creased, it looked as if he was in slight pain. However, the doctor hadn't given any painkiller since there wasn't a point. After all, he was unconscious. Only if he was awake and needed the painkillers would they be administered. Could people feel pain in the perpetual darkness Fuji was currently immersed in? Something in his mind told him that yes, it was possible, but he wasn't at all sure.

 

There was an audible groan, and Tenshi's head snapped forward in Fuji's direction. Hazy blue eyes were open, staring up at the blank white ceiling above. Maybe he hadn't had the strength to move his head. Speechless, Tenshi wasn't able to find his voice before Fuji spoke. Obviously, he hadn't noticed Tenshi yet. “Am I dead?” Is this what death is like? Boy, was the world on the wrong track. I can't even move. There was still a visible frown on Fuji's face. However, he was slowly beginning to settle, as if the peace of death was lulling him.

 

“No, Shuusuke,” his voice suddenly came back, and he answered quickly. It took a few minutes, but finally, Fuji was able to move his head, perhaps painfully so, but to a degree where he was able to see Tenshi. The leg that was slung swung slightly, but didn't come undone from the sling. A small smile was on Fuji's lips now, as he looked over at Tenshi through glassy, clouded eyes. However, he still looked as if he was in pain, and Tenshi wished that he were able to stop it. With his fingers tracing Fuji's jaw lightly, he tried to think of some sort of way to console him. After all, despite the smile, Fuji had a look of pain about him, and it was probably strong of him not to be complaining of it.

 

“Hey…” his voice was weak and soft, just like the tone of voice he'd used with Tezuka when he'd initially been hit. Tenshi noticed he was trying to move his free hand, though his muscles didn't seem to be cooperating very well. Without though, Tenshi took it, his fingers grasping the skin lightly; Fuji's eyelashes fluttered slightly, and it became obvious to him that Fuji wasn't any more than half-way awake, if not “delirious”.

 

“How are you?” he asked, wishing to break the silence. Tenshi was able to see a small amount of vulnerability in Fuji as a result of the injury, and he looked rather helpless. Tenshi didn't like to see him like this, looking like such an inept child, especially since though Fuji was still technically a child, he was nowhere near inept; still, though, he looked in need of comfort from a friend. Lightly, he rubbed Fuji's palm, the boy's eyes drooped slightly again, but he was trying to have a war with the unconscious world, as he struggled to stay awake. Thin fibers of pain passed through Fuji's eyes, and he seemed to have trouble focusing in on Tenshi. Maybe that's what the doctor had meant when he was talking about Fuji having trouble with his eyesight. Hopefully Fuji wouldn't have to wear glasses, or worse, end up going blind in the end. Tenshi himself wasn't able to imagine a world without eyesight.

 

“Hurts,” he murmured, eyes half closed, and the first words that he spoke of his pain. “Feels like somebody beat me with a baseball bat.” The bandages on his head must've been irritating hand, because for a moment, he was about to reach up to scratch his forehead with his other hand, the one with all the needles in it. Tenshi stopped him for fear of him pulling out one of the more vital IV's.

 

“Don't do that,” he felt like the old man, reprimanding like that. “Watch how you move. You're hurt.” His voice was a silent whisper, but Fuji seemed to hear and immediately he stopped fidgeting. However, that didn't stop him from clasping Tenshi's hand lightly, something he would never have done in a normal situation. Tenshi was just there, and he felt in need of somebody's support. In a way, he was grateful. Tenshi was always there when he needed him.

 

“What happened?” The words passed Fuji's lips in a sluggish manner, and it made Tenshi begin to wonder if he was able to remember why he was here, or if he had actually forgotten the accident altogether, and had no idea what was going on. He wanted to ask Fuji what he had been thinking, and he wanted to be able to cure Fuji's pain with the sweep of his hand. Neither seemed possible, though, and though Fuji was calm, Tenshi was growing more and more desperate by the minute.

 

“Don't you remember, or did you hit your head harder than it seemed like?” he asked, hoping that it wasn't true that Fuji was suffering from memory loss. At a soft and clueless look from Fuji, he took it as his answer. Giving Fuji's fingers a small squeeze, the only thing he could think of was that he was thankful that Fuji remembered him, at least. “You were hit by a car. You've been unconscious for almost two days now.” It took a moment for Fuji to absorb the words. He blinked softly, as if what Tenshi said had provoked a reaction in his mind.

 

“Ah,” he said, squinting as if the little light in the room was paining his eyes, though the room was dim and there wasn't much light in the room at all. Fuji was keeping a good and tight hold on his hand, but it wasn't very strong; Tenshi could've pulled his hand away if he wanted to. The grip on his fingers was just slightly squeezing, in an almost comforting manner. “Was I walking with Tezuka?” he asked. “Everything after that is… blank.” Fuji closed his eyes and couldn't help but yawn.

”Yes, you were.” Part of him, an evil, selfish part, wanted it to be that Fuji had forgotten Tezuka, but even the name was spoken with a certain fondness that Tenshi could only detect after getting to know Fuji on a very personal level. He mentally slapped himself for wishing so, and was reminded that he should be grateful that Fuji's memory seemed fully intact. “Nobody knows what you were thinking, Fuji, walking right out in the middle of the intersection like that.” If he couldn't remember being hit by the car, then he wouldn't be able to remember what was going through his head at the moment. “I… I thought that you were going to die, for a minute there.” His voice shook, and with his free hand, he wiped some stray tears from his eyes, realizing that they were only there because he cared so deeply for Fuji, and if he lost him, he would have nobody left. “Don't scare me like that again.” His voice was firm, stern, and in the sort of tone a parent would use towards a child.

 

“Tezuka was even worried about you,” Tenshi told Fuji, hoping that would be a reassurance to Fuji, and an incentive to never do something like that again. “He tried his best to not show that he was distraught, but I could tell. He was really worried about you.”

 

“Really?” Fuji asked in a soft voice, as if he didn't believe what Tenshi said, though he was smiling anyways.

 

“Really. Promise you won't do something like that again, okay?” he asked, trying to reassure that Fuji would never be hurt like that again. Well, that was if Fuji lived, but Tenshi didn't want to be morbid. He wanted to be able to remain by Fuji's side, forever. Distantly, the warning the old man gave about gave about getting too attached sent up a red flag in his head, but he ignored it. The silence could be taken as a now, but really, Fuji was just getting up the strength to speak, seeing as he was so depleted of energy.

 

“I promise…” his voice was very soft now, and Fuji shut his eyes for a moment.

 

The clicking of heels alerted him a nurse had entered the room. However, it wasn't the same nurse that had been giving him trouble. She was a younger girl, probably in her teens, with her haircut very short and choppy, and dyed the popular shade of red. Probably, she was a volunteer here, not a nurse. She shuffled a little bit to the side, as if to get a better look at Fuji, and seeing he looked to be in pain, she looked at the chart he had clipped to the foot of the bed, she took a few steps back and gave a last look at him. “Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, and she spoke in Kyoto dialect. There was no response from Fuji. Brushing some of the bangs out of her eyes, she muttered to herself, “I'll get a doctor,” before leaving the room.

 

“You should sleep for a while,” Tenshi told Fuji, though he knew very well that the doctor was coming to check up on Fuji. “Shuusuke, you do look exhausted. Get some rest. I promise that I'll stay near you for as long as I can.” He hadn't mentioned the fact that Fuji would need surgery for his ribs

 

Fuji looked exhausted, but as he spoke with the doctor, his condition was explained. That, and Tenshi found out they had been planning to do surgery within an hour, and after Fuji reassured that he'd be fine, the doctor bid his farewell and left. Tenshi wondered if Fuji was hungry offhandedly. As a nurse administered a sedative to him, Fuji's eyes slowly drifted shut once again, and when he was eventually wheeled away off to surgery, Tenshi found it hard to let go, feeling an empty separation when he finally let go of the now limp hand.

 

He hoped that Fuji would be okay eventually. He hated to see Fuji in pain, and his pain-stricken face was still haunting him from two days ago. Head hung low; he admitted that for today, there was nothing he could do. Even tomorrow, if Fuji were even awake, he would be drowsy and sluggish. Distantly, a shooting star streaked across the sky, a rare sight. However, Tenshi looked up and smiled, wishing for Fuji's safety.

 

He would never forget the feeling of Fuji squeezing his hand like that, ever.

 

 

[falls over]

 

I need to sleep more. I didn't think I'd be on track enough after the convention to write this, but I was a lot more successful, even though I don't really like this chapter, either. So, I was supposed to add Tenshi in last chapter. Honestly, I forgot. So, this is more of his story, but expanded.

 

Again, if you spot any discrepancy, please tell me. I apologize for the brainless quality of this chapter. I read way too many doujinshi, and I've got too many practices for band. The two don't make a very good combination, and as it is, my mind's been more in the gutter than usual. Luckily I didn't go schizo/ADHD like I usually do. As of late I've had a very short attention span.

 

I'm not sure how soon the next chapter will be up. I'm going to have to stay at school late for various clubs, and other things. Study, study, study…