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The night was not silent, nor calm, nor beautiful. It was long and painful night, especially for Serge. This was second night he spent awake next to Kimikos bed. He was wide awake for two days straight and it was showing – but he wouldn’t sleep. The drugs he took kept him awake so he could take care of her. There was no silence in it too – the room was filled with monotone beeping, the constant reminder that Kimiko was still alive.
She was in coma. Nobody could tell Serge when, how or if she’s gonna wake up, because even if they knew that, he wouldn’t understand. Damned Russia.
“Look at you, Mon Ceour. How strong you are.” He spoke few moments after midnight and lightly touched her hand. He knew she couldn’t hear him, but screw that.
Words couldn’t describe how scared he was. How painful this was to him. In Kimiko he found something he never had before, he loved her, even though he couldn’t just say it, he knew it. She was special, his own miracle, his Kimiko, always so strong yet fragile and now she was slipping through his fingers.
“You will make this, alright? You will. You are strong. Étonnante. And after all this we are going to Marseilles, just you and me, as I promised…” His voice broke into tears that couldn’t be stopped. Serge fell on his knees, still holding her hand, crying like he wasn’t in a very long time. All she wished for was to be normal and here she was – normal.
And dying.
“Kimiko.” He whispered and gently pressed her hand. “Kimiko, s'il vous plait, do not do this to me. Do not leave me here alone. S'il vous plait. S'il vous plait.”
His sobs were answered with the same mechanical beeps as before. At least her heart was still beating. Without the superpower she was just fragile small girl and the injuries she suffered were severe. She was lucky she was still alive.
He was lucky she was still alive.
And it was all his fault. How many times she jumped at him like this, caught a bullet for him? She sacrificed herself. For him. For him. His life never had such value, he never saw himself as person worth dying for. And yet there she was, dying for him.
“Kimiko.” He whispered her name again, standing up, not letting her hand go. He looked at her peaceful, beautiful face and with second hand he wiped his tears away and then, out of nowhere breathed out.
“Je t'aime, Kimiko.” Sound of those words was almost absurd. Saying that out loud, like this, not expecting an answer. He should’ve told her long time ago. He should’ve just took her hand and leave to Marseille the moment she mentioned it and she would be alright. But no, he wanted to help MM and Hughie.
His sadness transformed into anger again. MM was outside the room, currently taking a nap. Serge did not mind, MM was there, helping him with Kimiko, without him she wouldn’t survive. He wasn’t angry about Marvin.
He was mad at Hughie. Petite Hughie, for whom they stayed, and he couldn’t care less when she was dying. Serge was mad at him, angry, furious, scared – because this just didn’t seem like Hughie.
He closed his eyes and breathed in, out, to calm himself. Then he opened his eyes, and…
She was looking at him. Her eyes slightly open, she was visibly investing a lot of energy into just opening them. The breathing mask was still on her face and for first few moments Serge thought he was hallucinating.
“Mon Ceour?” He breathed out, lowering himself closer to her as she gently pressed his palm. Her fingers wrapped around his, weak, yet strong. There was something urgent in it, like she was holding the edge of the cliff.
“Mon Ceour don’t… don’t move, it’s gonna be alright, you do not have to worry, just rest, oui?” He couldn’t help but smile because she was conscious, awake, she was… awake.
Kimiko wouldn’t respond to him; she was just holding his hand and that was enough. Did she hear him? If did she understand? After all, he was speaking French when he confessed, so there was a chance she didn’t know meaning of those words. And still, even without knowing that, this was enough.
The night was not silent, nor calm, nor beautiful. The night was long and painful, but also, filled with hope, with hope that they could be alright, together and happy, at last.
And after all, isn’t hope all that matters, in this cruel, hurtful world?