Work Text:
Yata knew he had medical issues. So did everyone else at HOMRA. His heart was stupid, even at such a young age, hardly able to keep up and support his fiery whims.
His family at HOMRA knew this, so when he got extra worked up, which happened often enough, they tried to calm him down through various means. It was endearing, knowing that people cared about him and his health, but it was also annoying because it felt like they were trying to put a lid on his outbursts.
And, yeah, that was basically what they were doing.
If he failed to check himself, like one time when he had lost his shit on a racist for rudely calling Anna a halfie along with unacceptable slurs, he felt a fierce pang in his heart, like a silver needle had gone right through it. Sometimes this happened randomly even when he was relaxing, but when he had worked himself into a rage the pain was so intense that it knocked the wind out of him.
He had fallen to his knees gripping his chest, Anna fluttering by nervously as Fushimi and Kamamoto urgently tried to calm him down and call an ambulance. But Yata being Yata, even as his eyes prickled with tears of searing pain, had spat one last insult at the guy who'd crossed the line, and passed out.
Waking up in the hospital wasn't as scary as he imagined. Everyone from HOMRA was there when he opened his eyes, sitting in chairs and laying across the floor, nodding off.
Fushimi was there, of course, leaning on a wall and staring down at his phone, the first one to notice that Yata was awake. Fushimi would always be there. Yata took comfort in that fact.
After that, he started taking his health more seriously. The doctor had detailed just how dire his situation was—as an active teen who ate healthily, there should've been no problem, or at least not one as bad as his.
He needed to be careful, so he lived every day as if he were walking on eggshells.
Until Saruhiko left.
The day he found out was the worst day of his life. He knew he'd never forget how people wouldn't meet his gaze as he walked into the bar, took a look around, and asked where Saruhiko was. It was unlike him to show up after Yata, but it was like a hush fell over the place. Even Mikoto wasn't looking at him.
Confusion knit his brow, and Anna walked up to him, maroon eyes wide and expression set in sympathy. "Come sit down." She said and tugged at his wrist until he complied.
"What's going on? Why're you all acting so weird today?" He slumped down in the seat Anna had guided him to, next to her, and Mikoto and Kusanagi pulled up chairs across from him while Totsuka paced behind them. Now he knew it was bad, and he couldn't help but be set on edge. It felt like they were trying to ambush him.
"Try and stay calm with what we're about to tell you," Mikoto said, his gravely voice husky as he met Yata's gaze.
Yata gulped. "What, did he get run over or something?" He tried to joke, to lighten the mood, but it only seemed to make things worse. "Was it something to do with those Blues? Did they do something?" He nearly rocketed out of his seat at the prospect, sparks of rage threatening to ignite into an inferno—but Anna kept her grip on his wrist.
"Yata, please," She begged. "Just sit down.
Muted, he slumped back into his seat.
"Fushimi joined Scepter 4." Kusanagi said as if he were ashamed.
Yata froze, disbelieving. "I—he— what? You're lying!" He shook his head, confusion dominating him. Even the idea of Saruhiko doing something so stupid hurt, but there was no way he could—so why were the people he trusted the most trying to tell him they'd been betrayed? "Why would he even—?"
Fushimi, join the Blues?!
"Your guess is as good as ours," Kusanagi said. "You know how he was always good with electronics, and Scepter 4 is a pretty high-tech place. Maybe they just offered him something we couldn't give."
He looked around, trying to see if someone would break, tell him it was as a joke, an expression that revealed something vital—but there was nothing.
Oh.
That was all the confirmation he needed to know the truth.
And as soon as he had realized it, it hurt like a bitch.
His heart fluttered, and he shook his head. "No way. No fucking—" He cut himself off when that familiar needle of pain sliced through his heart, this time accompanied with what felt like a fist closing around it and slowly twisting. The pain was so sudden that he doubled over with a strained hiss, and it was like the entire bar jumped into action.
Mikoto and Anna were the first ones by his side while Totsuka ran behind the counter, tossing Kusanagi his phone to call an ambulance while Yata's vision blackened in pain.
He gave a hoarse cry, something he had never really done before, and tears sprang to his eyes when the pain didn't immediately go away. "Hnng.... fuck."
It hurts. He thought, clenching his chest in excruciating agony. It hurts. And that was the last thought he had before he gasped for air, registering the pain that flooded through him when his lungs expanded before it all faded away.
When he woke up, there was a breathing mask over his face and he was hooked up to a bunch of unsightly tubes, going in and out of his arms and chest, even his nose. He felt full in ways he never imagined and had to constantly fight the perpetual urge to sneeze.
A nurse came in and she was nice enough, telling him that he was really lucky to be alive seeing that on his ride to the hospital in the ambulance his heart had stopped.
At first, he didn't believe her, but she insisted. "It's true! You flatlined but they got your heart up and going again."
"I....died?" He asked, and the word felt heavy on his dry tongue.
"Yeah!" She said candidly, going over to a big machine on the side of his bed and pressing buttons on its screen. "Your friends were super worried—well, worried is an understatement. They were a total mess, crowding up the waiting area." She flashed a gentle smile to Yata. "It was endearing. Made you wonder what kind of person was struck by such misfortune to have all these hard-looking guys crying like that."
And then she left, leaving Yata to mull over what she'd said.
It turned out to be a few more days until he was moved to a different area in the same department and he could see his family. They all came first thing when visiting hours were open—except one.
Everyone tried to brush past the fact that Saruhiko wasn't there like if they didn't mention it Yata would forget. Between hating his heart for not being able to keep up basic functions, and trying to cope with the feeling of overwhelming sadness nestled deep in his chest, he bided his time by waiting for him to show up.
That's why there was no feeling of betrayal—he was still waiting. He was sure that once Saruhiko heard that he flatlined because of his heart, there would be no doubt that he'd be hasty to show up.
He never did.
Yata didn't know when he accepted it, but when he did it was as if everything felt grey. He hated his heart, despised it because it wasn't good enough, because it wasn't recovering fast enough, and his dysphoria only grew. He wondered if this was how people felt in the days before they died of heartbreak.
Damn you, Saru...