Chapter Text
‘Nurse Yamada, we seem to have an extra patient in this bed.’
‘I told her it wasn’t allowed, doctor.’
Osaragi opens her eyes to find the amused face of Dr Ishikawa and the disapproving one of Nurse Yamada hovering over the bed.
The clock on the wall says eight o’clock. She sits up immediately, blushing.
‘I’m sorry, I’ll go now…’
Beside her, Shishiba is stirring. She gets out of the bed, cheeks burning.
‘Shishiba-san, it’s time to check on your wound again.’ Nurse Yamada taps his shoulder.
‘What? Oh….’ Shishiba rubs the sleep from his eyes.
Osaragi is about to leave, but Dr Ishikawa stops her.
‘Don’t you want to know how your boyfriend is doing?’ he asks.
‘Um. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just…my senpai.’
The deep lines around the kindly old doctor’s eyes are crinkling in amusement. ‘I understand. Well, don’t you want to know how your senpai is doing?’
‘I….yes.’
Nurse Yamada has unwrapped the bandages, and Dr Ishikawa inspects the wound.
‘Amazing,’ he pronounces. ‘The epithelial barrier has completely reformed.’
He points to the new pink skin that has grown over most of the wound. ‘Young man, I’ve always thought people like you should be studied. You should be up and about in maybe another two days.’
‘Doctor, should we report her?’ Nurse Yamada jerks her head towards Osaragi.
Dr Ishikawa looks astonished. ‘Whatever for? She’s obviously good for him. His blood pressure readings were normal last night, compared to the spikes the night before.’
Nurse Yamada looks displeased, but is forced to follow the doctor out.
‘Sorry, I should’ve woken you up,’ Shishiba says, guiltily.
‘It’s okay. I’m glad you got to sleep.’
It was because of you. ‘Me too. I’ve been having some bad dreams.’
She comes over and gives his hand a squeeze. ‘Everything will be fine. Cheer up, Shishiba-san.’
His fingers close over hers and he smiles.
A series of loud, insistent buzzes from her phone shatters the moment.
She lets his hand go and checks the messages. ‘Oh no, it’s Kamihate, I’m late…’
‘Go. And tell Kamihate not to get too comfortable. I’ll be out of here soon.’
He watches her rush off, suddenly grateful that Kamihate is there to watch over her instead of him. At least Kamihate, smitten as he seems with her, won’t leave her hanging in a tight situation.
But he can’t keep going on like this. Selfishly inviting her into his bed. Using her to fend his nightmares off. Taking advantage of her vulnerability to kiss her.
He knows he’s being a bad man, playing with her heart like this. He’s seen too much to think that a relationship is a good idea, has in fact, sworn off them completely, but she doesn’t know that.
She loves him, he can see it in her eyes, but he doesn’t know if he can give her what she wants, and it isn’t fair to her.
Tonight, though he wants it badly, he’ll tell her not to visit.
Osaragi is on the way to Shishiba’s hospital room after dinner, a bag of seasonal sweet potato cream puffs in hand, when she gets his message.
I’m quite tired tonight, there’s no need to come over okay?
She stops and reads the message again. Well, maybe he really is tired.
Okay, she types. Sleep well.
She turns around and heads back home to her apartment, a little disappointed. She puts the cream puffs in the fridge and takes a shower.
She settles into her bed, and suddenly feeling lonely, she reaches for the familiar softness of her childhood teddy bear, Choko-kun.
But sleeping with her stuffed bear is nothing like sleeping next to him, and it is some time before she finally falls asleep.
The next day is much the same. She goes to work with Kamihate, works hard ridding the world of thugs and criminals, lowlife people the JAA said they should eliminate.
Kamihate, never missing an opportunity, asks her to have dinner again, but she makes an excuse and hastily runs off.
I’m coming over now, Shishiba-san, she messages. This time she has two boxes of gyoza, still hot, from his favourite dumpling restaurant.
Just when she is about to round the corner and reach the JAA building, her phone buzzes again.
Feeling a bit unwell. Think it’s best you don’t come over in case it’s contagious.
She stops dead in her tracks, the plastic bag of takeaway boxes falling to the ground.
He’s doing it again. The thing where he pushes her away after she crosses his stupid, stupid line.
Is everything okay? she types. She wants to add ‘I miss you’, but backspaces it away.
I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Get home safely.
She stands on the street outside the JAA building, looks up longingly towards where his room must be.
Then slowly, she picks the fallen bag of food up, turns around, and starts to walk home.
It’s the morning of day nine of Shishiba’s hospitalisation, which is coincidentally, her day off. Osaragi rushes to the hospital early, this time without messaging him.
The door to his room is open. She hears voices.
‘…Perhaps you will sleep better in your own home,’ Dr Ishikawa is saying, as he picks up his clipboard. ‘But don’t go back to work just yet. If HQ asks, tell them I said so.’
‘Thank you, doctor,’ Shishiba replies.
Dr Ishikawa turns out of the room, almost bumping into her as he exits.
‘Ah, the not-girlfriend. Where have you been? He hasn’t been sleeping well, take good care of him,’ he says to Osaragi at the door, giving her a wink. ‘Make sure he doesn’t over exert himself.’
‘….O-okay.’
Dr Ishikawa and Nurse Yamada leave, and she is left alone in the room with him. He is sitting up in bed, rubbing the spot where the IV drip was removed from the back of his hand. He has dark circles under his eyes, and her heart aches for him.
‘Shishiba-san.’
‘The doctor says I can go home today,’ he says, without looking at her.
‘That’s good,’ she replies. ‘I…can I help you with anything?’
He swings his legs out of the bed. ‘I’m fine, Osaragi.’
While he rummages around for his clothes, she looks around the room feeling melancholic, reliving the time they spent there together.
‘Is it…weird that I feel a bit sad to leave this room?’
His reply is short, cold. ‘Hm, I can’t wait to get out of it.’
He’s found the clothes that he wore that day in the museum, and starts to put them on. They’ve been laundered and pressed, but the white shirt has been ruined beyond repair, an unsightly gash and faint old blood stains on its right side. He’ll probably throw it in the bin when he gets home, but he ties the black tie on anyway, out of habit.
When he slips the tailored suit jacket on and buttons it, the damage to the shirt is concealed. No one would know it was there, just like no one would know he wasn’t the same man who entered the museum that day.
He turns around, and to Osaragi, he looks exactly like he did before. Handsome. Strong. Unwavering.
But will things be exactly like they were before? she wonders.
Before he had asked her to hold him. Before he had kissed her. Before the night they’d spent sleeping next to one another while his body healed, never doing anything more.
She looks into his face, hard, and shrinks away at what she sees there. The wall is back up, and higher than ever.
Osaragi has seen this happen too many times before to not be able to recognise it, but her heart is heavy. She had thought it would be different, this time.
She takes a small step forward. ‘Shishiba-san, I…do you need anything else?’
I need you. ‘No. I’m all good now.’
‘Are…you sure?’
Her dark eyes are pleading with him, and he almost breaks, but his mind is holding him back.
You’re well now, you don’t have any more excuses. Let her go. Don’t complicate things.
He adjusts the black tie in a show of nonchalance. ‘Yeah, I’m sure. Don’t worry about me, okay? I’m going to go home now. I’ll see you later, Osaragi.’
He doesn’t meet her desperate gaze and walks out, the door closing behind him. The sound seems too loud, a door to his heart slamming shut, and Osaragi is left alone in the empty hospital room.
She goes over to the bed where they’d spent those nights curled up together, and gazes at it. A fist clenches round her heart, and she puts a hand to her mouth, letting out a tiny, choked sob.
He doesn’t need her anymore, he’s well now, and the dream has come to an end at last.
I don’t care, she lies to herself, stubbornly. If he wants to play this game of pretend, so can I.
But in her mind, the memories shine bright and clear, the comforting weight of his hand over hers, the feeling of his breath on her face, the touch of his lips when he had kissed her.
He can put up all the walls he wants, he can pretend all he likes, but she knows without a doubt that those things were real, that they happened, and it is enough, it is more than enough to sustain her.
——end——