Work Text:
The news came as a shock to everyone, but they couldn't even begin to imagine how much pain tore at Alp's heart. Anger, denial, that was his first reaction. He doesn't want to believe it. He rushed out of the campus as he stood, ignoring the calls of his name from Cu Sith and the others, and even though it was only mid-autumn, his clothes were too light, and the wind relentlessly slashed at his bare arms and legs. But he didn't care. All he wanted to do was find Joichiro and demand answers.
What sort of a sick joke was this?
People on the streets sent glances his way, some concerned, some mocking, some disturbed. And he supposed he must have looked like an idiot, too. He swore to himself that Joichiro was going to pay dearly for this prank.
His throat hurt from the harsh gulps of chilly air, and his muscles stung from strain when Alp finally stepped through the front door of the hospital. If that damn girl wasn't here... The lady at the front desk gave him the floor number and a look that made Alp's insides flip uncomfortably, but he brushed it off as inconsequential. She was just a receptionist, she couldn't know anything important.
Instead of taking the lift, he jumped up the stairs, a few steps at the time, too impatient to wait. And then he was there, the clinically white door suddenly vast and imposing. He knocked out of immediate consideration for Joichiro's classmates - if the news had been real, but he was entirely sure it wasn't - and pushed the knob, opening it to reveal a single room with a lone bed near a small, now covered with light green drapes window.
Ryouta sat at the bedside, and when he turned, Alp saw his tear-streaked face. That was the moment he realized. It was real. Joichiro really had an accident.
He swallowed the rising bile and stepped inside the room. His legs felt unsteady as if all strength left him at the door. He stopped at the end of the bed, his eyes wandering up to the pale face under the oxygen mask. Alp knew he wouldn't forget that sight till the day he dies.
Joichiro looked awful, her face nearly as white as the sheets she was lying on and the bandage that covered one of her eyes and head. Scratches and bruises on her cheeks jabbed Alp's eyes with the sharp contrast of dark crimson blood and blue-violet of under-skin effusions. Her breathing seemed stable, but Alp could barely see the air Joichiro puffed into the mask. The steady noise of the heart monitor was the only thing that calmed the sudden fear that gripped Alp by the throat.
"The doctors say she won't make it,"
Ryouta tightened his hold on his friend's hand, as his tears continued to fall at the white sheets. "The damage to her internal organs was too extensive. They gave her two weeks at most..."
Alp looked at his bowed head and couldn't believe it. So what, this was it? Everything they worked so hard on ends here? He turned his gaze towards Joichiro's motionless form. 'And you're okay with it?' he thought as if he expected an answer.
Yet none came, Joichiro's eyes stayed closed, her body limp, unconscious.
He stepped around the bed and placed a hand on the boy's bent shoulder. He was never good at talking, but this time, he knew what he wanted to say. And he was sure that if Joichiro could hear him, she would approve.
"She's strong,"
He said, looking into his eyes, which reflected similar aura to the ones he came to know.
"She won't give up, and neither should you."
And with that he left, the sudden urge to cry too much to hold in. He took a shivering breath, his throat choked, eyes hot with unshed tears. He didn't want to believe it. The anger, denial, everything he felt before coming to this hospital room, it all seemed pointless now. Joichiro would die...
If she did, Alp was sure he would never be the same.
If she did, she would take a part of Alp with her. A part that Alp could never get back. A part that was capable of love.
It's been five days since then, and as every afternoon before, this time he skipped class and came to the hospital as well. He knew the way by heart now, his feet guiding him through hallways on autopilot. Usually, no one was there at this time, and Alp just sat in silence, looking at Joichiro's sleeping face, sometimes playing with threads that slipped from one of the numerous bandages. And sometimes he would talk to Joichiro.
Mostly it would be like talking to himself, and he knew Joichiro couldn't hear him, she was still unconscious. But there were rare times when tired, faded eyes opened, and Joichiro turned her head towards him, asking about a thing or another. They were mostly trivial things, like 'how is the everyone doing?' or 'you shouldn't skip classes, Alp' which brought a small smile to Alp's lips instead of the irritated scowl it used to. These moments were everything to him, no matter how inconsequential they may have been to anyone else - to him, they gave hope.
He pushed open the door, the sun from the window right in front of it blinding him for a second or two. Blinking rapidly, Alp entered the room and closed the door behind himself. He walked up to the lone chair next to the bed and dropped his bag down to the floor with as little noise as possible. Joichiro was once again asleep, but she always was when he came. Alp smiled a bit.
It was a good thing that no one was visiting at the same time as him, he thought, as he bent down to place a gentle kiss to Joichiro's forehead. He stayed frozen for a moment, his eyes closed, just feeling the presence of the other. Joichiro's hair smelled strongly of the hospital, and Alp's hand on her cheek trembled slightly at the sudden weave of suffocating, emotional pain that traveled through his body.
He released a shaky breath, and sat at the bedside, reached into his bag and took out his phone and headphones. He slipped them into his ears, like every other day, but didn't put any music on. He couldn't listen to anything right now. It was just to dissuade the chatty nurses from approaching him. Alp slipped his hand into Joichiro's limp one and covered it with his other. Looking up, he couldn't help the feeling of bitterness that stabbed him in the heart.
That was just his luck. When he finally found a piece of happiness, fate has ripped it away from him, time and time again. It was friends at first, then hip hop, and now Joichiro - the only person he could ever love. Alp's fingers tightened around Joichiro's hand.
Joichiro wasn't always so important to him, he could still vividly remember the months of angry arguments, shouted obscenities and punches, pushes and painful head grips. But it all paled in comparison to what came next. He fell in love. And not only that - the feeling was mutual.
No matter how many times Alp came back to the memories of how they first started dating, he still couldn't believe it actually happened. It was the most cliché scenario of them getting mad at each other at one's dorm room and having to stay there for the night. If anyone ever told Alp that it would be the best night of his life for long months to come, he'd glare at them with his most scary face on, for sure.
But it still happened. They had been spending the nights together, and before they noticed they were talking about all kinds of things - love included. Alp remembered how Joichiro's cheeks shone with embarrassment as he listened to Joichiro talk about her crush, and he remembered teasing her about it. And then he would probably never forget the anger that flashed through Joichiro's eyes as she jumped to her feet and screamed at the top of her lungs 'You're such an asshole, Alp! I can't believe I'm in love with you!'. Immediately afterward, Joichiro locked herself in the small bathroom and refused to come out, no matter what Alp said, until he confessed too.
It was the weirdest thing ever when the door finally opened, and the figure practically threw itself at him, only his superior reflexes allowing Alp to catch her. They hugged, and kissed, which was always followed by bouts of embarrassment and avoiding the other's eyes, and somehow the night turned into a brand new day; and when the rest of the guys stumbled through the door, they found them sprawled on the floor and nearly on top of one another, sleeping like logs.
Alp smiled at the sudden nostalgia. A lot has changed since then, their relationship was still rocky at times, but even though they didn't lose any of their boisterousness, they couldn't hurt the other on purpose anymore. It was as if they were finally in sync, eventually two pieces of a puzzle joining together and sealing the edges.
And now...
Now Joichiro was leaving.
Alp's throat tightened. They still had all their lives before them, all the places to enjoy, all the dates to plan and then skip at the last moment to play inside each other's dreams. All this time, that was now stolen from them.
He felt the tears roll down his cheeks, but he didn't care. He closed his eyes and bowed his head over Joichiro's hand, still tightly held in both of his. Alp couldn't go, he couldn't leave her...
The hand in his twitched, and Alp looked up. Hazy, gray-colored eyes blinked at him as if trying to clear the fog that continued clinging to him no matter what.
"What are you listening to?" the voice was quiet, but in the silence of the room, Alp heard every word loud and clear.
"Just this one song,"
He answered, remembering the headphones in his ears.
"It's really sad."
Joichiro's pale lips quirked, as if she tried to smile, but couldn't. "I can see that," she said and closed her eyes briefly. Talking was clearly exhausting for her. Alp's heart clenched painfully in his chest, and another tear fell down his cheek. "Let me hear it too," barely a whisper, and Alp's hands squeezed Joichiro's in agreement before he let go.
He plucked one bud from his ear and put it on the pillow next to Joichiro's head, as he opened the music app on his phone and clicked the first song on the list. It didn't matter what it was. If it was happy or sad, if it was a one he liked or not.
They both knew he lied. It wasn't the music he was listening to, but the sound of the machine supporting Joichiro's life, the clock painfully ticking the precious seconds away, and her slowly weakening heartbeat.
Waiting for, and dreading, the moment it will turn into complete silence.
"I love you, Alp.."
.
.
.
Tonight, Alp is surrounded by dread.
His room. His room but not his room, never his room, because nothing in this world is his (except Joichiro’s love; isn’t that the only thing that follows him wherever he goes, now, a love that threatens to bury him alive?)
Sinking into sheets that smell of cold brand-newness and something akin to laundry detergent, he closes his eyes. Praying to God (there are no gods here, you silly panda; if there were a god, wouldn’t there be some kind of karma? Justice? Retribution? Wouldn’t it have killed you by now? ) that he falls into a dreamless, sterile rest. Praying at the same time he won’t.
Praying at the same time that the ghost sitting on the bed beside him will go away.
(Praying at the same time that it — not Joichiro, not his love; she’d never say things like that, right? Right? — would stop laughing.)
Eventually, it does (with the finality of a tomb).
He isn’t sure when he finally drifts off to sleep (or maybe he’d never slept to begin with?), for his vision’s as blurry as his heart (and just as heavy). The clock’s hands are as unreadable as his thoughts.
(As dull as the expression of someone kneeling beside him.)
It was Leib. He blinks when he sees he’s awake, one hand was gently placed onto Alp’s sheets as he stares . Another hand was jammed into the pocket of his coat, he tilts his head ever-so-slightly to one side.
The room isn’t cold, but he shivers anyway. Leib’s voice is like nostalgia when he speaks.
“Alp?”
“Go away.”
(Time passes. He doesn’t leave.)
Through the thick haze of sleep, he thinks he glimpses Cu Sith, but he doesn't stay long. He never does, and he can't blame him, really.
(After all, what's left to say?)
Leib returns. (All he does is watch; wasn't that what he always did? Wasn't that what he was best at?)
.
.
.
"Alp, did you... miss Joichiro?"
A mild curiosity in his tone, as if he were asking about the weather. It's almost big-brotherly.
(He would hear those words later, from someone else. He would give a different answer then. But now…)
"Maybe. What's it to you?"
He falls silent, before resting a hand on Alp's shoulder. He doesn't shake it off. (He's too tired.)
"I simply want...to make sense of your pain."
(Funny, isn't it?)
.
.
.
Leib tries telling him stories, but he can never remember the words. (Making conversation in such dreadful condition; wasn't that what he always did?)
"Alp —"
(Wasn't that what he was best at?)
He awakens to find nobody; nothing on the sheets. And yet —
(He hadn't bothered to pull the blanket over himself in the night; hadn't cared enough to.)
The room is silent.
.
.
.
(Sometime while he'd slept, someone had gently tucked the blanket over his shoulders.)
.
.
.
Sweet dreams, my dear Alp..