Work Text:
A soft ray of sunlight shines on the white bedsheets of a hospital. Under them rests March, old and withered, ready to leave. She’s smiling, content.
Fushi is by her side. He isn’t smiling. (But he’s trying to.)
He grips her hands, once soft and plump but now thin and fragile, with wrinkly skin and protruding veins. He doesn’t want her to go.
But her time has come, she says, her voice barely audible; a whisper. He tightens his grip, begging her not to go. But she has to. And they both know that.
She apologises for leaving him, asks him to be happy. To find new people. But how could he ever be happy with everyone gone? He would never be able to find people like her and the others again.
Finding new people would just be repeating the never ending cycle.
He hears rushing footsteps in the distance, echoing in the long, white hallways. He feels March’s grip getting weaker.
And he hears her take her last breath.
He’s gone before March’s family barges in the room, praying they aren’t too late. He doesn’t hear their cries, but he feels their pain.
From the rooftop, he stares at March’s weeping family, vaguely making out their figures through the sheer curtains of the room.
Maybe the fog building up in his eyes is also blurring his vision. He doesn’t know anymore. He doesn’t care anymore.
Hot tears pour down his cheeks, and he breaks down, falling to his knees.
————
He gasps for air, reaching for something, anything that could help him stop feeling so hurt. He reaches for friends no longer by his side.
And his heart aches terribly. Everything aches terribly.
He feels his throat tighten with every breath he takes, and his chest hurts so, so much- he wants it to stop. He begs, tries to beg, but no words come out. He’s gasping for air, but only chokes on his own spit and tears.
But doesn’t letting it out feel good?
No. No- Crying this hard doesn’t feel good. It never does. There’s a reason why he doesn’t cry- he knows that as soon as the tears start welling up, there’s no stopping them.
And now he’s made the mistake of crying, letting his feelings out, and god. They just won’t stop spilling out. It hurts.
It’s not a sight anyone would want to see. It’s not like there’s anyone left to see.
He coughs violently, grasping at his shirt in hopes of alleviating the pain, or maybe just to hold onto something. He wishes he could hold onto his friends.
And then the ache gets worse again. He tries to stop thinking- maybe that would stop the pain- but his memories of friends and family come flooding back with twice as much force.
He thinks of love. Familial love he’d felt so much. That he enjoyed feeling so much. Now he just wants to forget.
No. I don’t want to forget. I don’t want them to die again.
He remembers another kind of love. Romantic love. Love he’d never understood. Love he’d never felt. But love he’d received so many times he couldn’t keep count.
And of all the memories swirling in his head, Fushi thinks back to one of Kahaku.
Kahaku. Would he leave? Like the others did? (The way he thinks that sounds accusing. He shouldn’t blame them for leaving. Humans only live for so long, and their faies don’t last for eternity. But there is a part of him that does blame them. A part of him he hates. A part of him that longs for companions who’d stay by his side forever, good or bad.)
Faies. The faies of his friends. Of his family. In desperation, he takes the form of Bon. He prays to a god he doesn’t believe in, prays that they are still around. But there is no one there.
You are all alone.