Chapter Text
It was a last-minute decision, really. Going to Aomine’s house wasn’t in today’s plan at all, but his sign was too low on the ranking, and he happened to have a brown glitter pen on his backpack for him to borrow, so it was fine, a 5-minute delay to his dentist appointment at worst. Now, sitting on the hospital’s floor with his hands covered in blood, he wonders what part of this was bad luck. If he asks the nurse to give Aomine the pen, will he get better or die?
This is a situation he never considered before, but one is never prepared for something like this; no one wakes up in the morning ready to deal with the suicide attempt of a friend, but still, Midorima feels he should’ve been ready for it, because who would be if he wasn’t?
He’s still covered in blood, he realizes once he managed to focus his eyes on his hands and shirt but doesn’t have the mental strength to do anything about it. Sitting there, face wet with tears, he reaches for his phone. His hands are shaking, and it takes him a couple of minutes to unlocked it, fingers struggling to stay still long enough for him to dial Daiki’s mom number.
The memory of the eternally smiling woman who used to bought cookies and sport drinks for them before every game invades his head; such a sweet figure she is, so devoted to her only son; and Midorima knows he shouldn’t think of her as a fragile thing because she’s not, she’s a detective and has seen plenty of horrific stuff during her shifts over the years, but he doubts something comes close to this. How could he say what he saw there? How can anyone call a mother and just say it? If he himself feels the world is falling apart under his feet, if he is afraid and hurt and desperate, what will his mother feel?
“Sargent Aomine”, her voice comes with a stoic, distant tone. A professional one. Of course, it is her work-phone the one he memorized in case of an emergency at 13. “Who is it?”.
“Aomine-san…”, he whispers, a thread of voice rather than an actual sound “It’s…I’m Midorima Shintarou. I am not sure if you remember me”.
“Of course I do, honey”, she suddenly sounds so warm and gentle, just as he remembers her, the same calm motherly tone. “It’s been a while. Is everything okay? Are you alright?”
“Yes, yes. I am fine”.
“Well, you know this number is only for emergencies, sweetie. If you need to speak with Dai, you can…”
“Madam…Aomi…Daiki is…I found…”
“Where are you? Are you with him?”, is more an order than a question.
“He…the doctors said he…”, he can’t force himself into talking more calmly, not even slightly convincing about Daiki being okay “…be okay”.
“Which hospital?”
“I’m not sure”, he shakes his head, closing his eyes. “I don’t know”.
“Yes, you do. Which hospital? How long did it take you to get there?”.
“Five minutes from your house”.
“Okay, okay…that works”, she swallows, “stay there. Don’t leave him”.
“I won’t. I’m so sorry…I should’ve…”.
I should’ve known. I should’ve notice something. I should’ve done something. I should’ve call more often, check on him more regularly. I should’ve known something was wrong.
It was a crime scene. His bedroom floor covered in blood and Aomine, bigger than the universe but looking as small as a child, lying there like a cadaver, wrist open and eyes half close. He won’t recover from that, he knows, he won’t forget that image. It will stay there, engraved in his mind for the rest of his days, tormenting him, reminding him about all the things he could’ve done different back in middle school or, maybe, a couple of days ago, when he still had time. Because Aomine Daiki is bigger than the universe and has the laugh of a bear, and runs faster than one, and maybe if he had tried to reach him sooner, this wouldn’t have happened; but it did, and Midorima was the one who found him, which was a miracle because he shouldn’t have been there in the first place. It’s a miracle it wasn’t Momoi or his mother, and thank God it wasn’t Kise or Kuroko or anyone else; thank God it was him and not someone who isn’t a doctor’s son and, therefore doesn’t know how to stop a bleeding artery. And he hopes Aomine heard what he said when they were waiting for the ambulance to come; he hopes he remembers he told him how much he loves him and how much he matters to him and Oh, god, please. Please don’t do this. Please don’t leave us. Don’t leave me. Not like this. I’m so sorry.
“Excuse me”, the nurse talks and he jumps back up to his feet, alert, afraid, his whole body stiff and eyes wide open. “I need you to fill this”.
She gives him a couple of pages of questions about Aomine’s blood type and allergies and age; he nods, small tears still falling down his cheeks. He grabs it with shaky hands and looks at it, feeling thankful of his years of being Teiko’s ex vice-captain, because he knows all the answers, all his family’s medical history, in an almost maniac extent.
“How is he?”, Midorima asks, his voice shaking as he tries to calm down a little.
“He just arrived so…we don’t know yet. But I promise you they will do everything they can to help your…”, she makes a pause, unsure of how they are related.
“Friend”, he says. He is. He is his friend, and he should say it more often.
“Your friend is in good hands”, she assures him with a soft voice and kind eyes, putting a hand on his arm in support. She looks at him like he is a child, and the truth is he feels like one. He is a child but wishes he wasn’t. Shintarou feels small for the first time in his life. Helpless, empty, desperate. Nothing hurts like this does. Nothing will ever do.
The realization hits him like a hammer as he gives her back the papers: he has to call them, all of them. He needs to call Momoi and tell her, but he just…doesn’t have the heart to do it; he doesn’t have the heart to call Kise and Kuroko; he can’t even imagine how bad Murasakibara is going to react, being so far. Thankfully, he doesn’t really have to. Someone else is their captain, someone else has to do it.
Akashi does not answer when he calls the first time, which isn’t a surprise because he rarely does if they didn’t send a text first, but it feels so inappropriate. He is probably at practice or with his father; so, he looks for Mibuchi’s number (given by Takao at some point, “just in case”). Rakuzan’s shooting guard looks like the type of person who always has his phone at hand.
“Hello?”, Reo picks up, cheerful as always “Who is it?”
“Is Akashi with you?”, he asks, but the sounds of balls and snickers against the floor is an answer on their own. “Give him the phone”, he commands, “now”.
“Midorima?”, the teen asks back, confused.
“Give him the phone”, he insists, more and more anxious.
Reo yells at someone, telling them to go get their captain. It takes two minutes of horrible silence for Akashi to finally get there and talk.
“Good afternoon, Shintarou”, Seijurou greets him, calmly. “Is there a reason for you to be terrorizing my vice-captain so early?”.
He doesn’t respond. His voice refuses to get out of his throat, only making small sounds when he tries to speak, and soon after he’s crying again, sobbing and struggling to breathe; on the other side of the call, Akashi remains silent, waiting for an explanation.
“Come”, Midorima finally says. “Please”.
“Tell me what’s wrong”.
“Aomine”.
“What happened to Daiki?”, he is starting to sound nervous, or at least as much as he can possibly be.
“He tried to kill himself”, he can hear Akashi’s breath stopping when he says it, his hand pressing hard against the phone, the small doubt before talking again, like he is fighting the urge to collapse right then and there. “He cut his wrist”.
“I assume you already called his mother”, Midorima makes an affirmative sound. “no one else?”.
“No”, he confesses, ashamed.
“I will handle that from now on”, the teen declares. “Stay there and inform me if something happens”, he can hear him walking fast and his teammates calling his name as he exits the gym. “A helicopter will go get Atsushi in Akita; a train would take too long”.
“Okay”
“And Shintarou?”
“Yes?”
“Until I arrive…you are the vice-captain, remember that”.
“I know”.
Midorima does not need Akashi to explain what he means by that; there is no hidden message behind his words, only a pure, almost literal indication: “You are in charge until I get there. You are responsible. You are the stable one until I arrive. You must look after them for a while. They are your responsibility until I take over. If anything happens, if any of them gets hurt from now on…that will be on you. Know your place. Do your job. Do not break. They need you. I trust you”.
So, no pressure.
He is so used to be the useless one on his new team, to be so low in the hierarchy outside being the ace he can’t even remember what it was being top second. Now, he is back where he was a couple of years ago, back to the place that was given to him with the certainty he would do the job. He didn’t. Back then, he was mediocre at best; he could’ve done so much more but didn’t, and the guilt takes power over him; the need to prove he can do what he is supposed to do invades him. He wants to fit the role. He can be the rock. He can do the job as good as humanly possible as he should have done back then.
“Shintarou”, Aomine’s mom comes running down the hallway, big blue eyes filled with confusion and desperation. “Where is he? Where is my baby? What happened?”.
“I found…I found Daiki on his bedroom…he…”, he struggles to find the right words, to convince himself he has to tell her the truth, even if every inch of him is begging to lie, “he cut his…”, he mimics the movement Aomine must have done with his hands, and she understands without him finishing.
Her face looks pale, watery eyes and the whole body shaking uncontrollably. His first instinct is to try and calm her but has no idea of what to do or say in a situation like this. He is as terrified as she is and there is very little he can do to calm himself down enough to offer some kind of comfort. He doesn’t have answers or reasons to give her, only the horrific thing he saw.
“Why were you there? Did he say something? Did he tell you why?”
“No, madam. Virgos have bad luck today, and I was close enough to pass by and give him a lucky item”, the woman looks confused but slowly remembers that part of Midorima, recognizing it as something he would do “It was merely a coincidence”.
“Thank God you found him”, she cries, pulling him down by the neck to hug him with her muscular arms “Thank you, Shintarou, thank you for taking care of my baby”.
“I didn’t do much”, he whispers, more to himself than to her. More for Teiko than for now “I didn’t do anything”.
There is so much guilt in that phrase, in the way he says it and she notice, like she notices everything, hugs him tighter against her body. He is not touching her, his arms are stiff on his sides, letting his body be press on hers, and even though Akashi’s reminder is echoing inside his head, hunting him with the reality of his position, he cannot bring himself to be anything more than a child between the arms of a loving mother. He still has time, doesn’t he? The rest of the team is not here yet; they don’t need him right now, so he can allow himself this for a couple more minutes, to regret the things he failed to do back in middle school, to wonder how this could happen to them, to drown on his pain. Midorima is trembling, Aomine’s mom caressing his hair, and he hates himself for being so undeserving of her kindness.
She kisses his forehead and lets him go, running towards a nurse to get more information, leaving him missing her warmth.
The resemblance is uncanny, really, Daiki looks almost exactly like her, which is a good thing because his father is a drunk bastard; they have the same eyes and nose, the same muscular figure and, if he remembers correctly, the same loud laugh.
Momoi arrives with her father 5 minutes later, running and crying like a mad woman, basically bursting through the elevator’s door. He catches her midway, both arms around her small body, pressing her against his with all he has because she is insanely strong apparently. Satsuki, unlike Aomine-san, does not ask questions, doesn’t beg for answers, just tries to free herself, wanting to go find her friend no matter how much he explains her she can’t.
“Let me go!”, she yells, kicking him, it hurts but he resists, holds her there as carefully as he can. “I want to go with him, he can’t be alone. You know he can’t. He hates it”.
“It’s okay, Momoi”, he almost whispers, “he’ll be okay. The doctors are with him. He will get better”.
“He is alone there”, she insists, slowly giving up the fight, “he can’t be alone. I have to go with him”, she whispers. “He needs me”.
“I promise he will be okay”, he shouldn’t promise that. Nobody can promise that sort of thing in a hospital, not even a doctor. “Let’s sit down and wait, okay? We can be there and wait for news right there. It’s not far”.
“You are covered in blood”, she murmurs, and Midorima looks down at his hands once again. He is. So much blood. “Please tell me it’s yours”.
There is no malice on that, she is not saying that to be a bad friend. On the contrary, Shintarou is the one standing there, alive, awake, breathing in front of her; if it’s his, it’s okay because he’s fine.
“Come on”, he takes her hand without answering, softly, pulling her towards him, but her legs shake and almost fall. He catches her quickly. “Let me help you”.
Momoi is understandably heartbroken, feeling a kind of pain he will never be able to feel. After all, with all their highs and lows, she and Aomine are soulmates, have been their entire lives, since the moment they were born they have had each other, count on each other for everything. Midorima can’t even imagine what she feels or thinks right now, the kind of mental torture she is enduring on her head. The idea of Momoi without Aomine is ridiculous for him, unnatural, something that should never be. If he dies, Shintarou thinks, she’ll die with him. She already looks half dead now.
He sits next to her, on the floor again even when there are chairs. Satsuki sobs against her hands, incapable to stop and he is not sure of what to do, just stays there looking at her, eyes wide open and words of comfort trapped inside his mouth. Slowly, he passes one arm around her shoulders, letting her put her head on his chest, murmuring “It’s okay” and “He’s going to be fine” over and over again. Her father looks at them, he notices, with concern eyes and Midorima finally lands in how disturbing he must look from the outside.
When Kuroko arrives, Momoi is still crying. Tetsuya’s big eyes are swollen and red like he cried-scream all the way there; Kagami follows him a couple of meters behind, confused and worried, not understanding what it’s going on. The short teen’s body looks smaller than usual, more fragile, like he used to look when they were in middle school; Midorima has to remind himself to not fall on his knees and beg for an explanation, fight the impulse of breaking under pressure. Kuroko still sounds neutral, even after the girl has jumped into his arms his voice remains distant, but the slight stutter says more than he wants to.
“Tell me it was an accident”, he begs. “Tell me you got it wrong”, and Shintarou wishes he could say it was a mistake, that it was just an accidental thing and an overreaction, a mere misunderstanding, but he won’t lie to his friend, even when he so desperately wants to relief some of his pain.
He shakes his head and Kuroko closes his eyes, legs finally given in under the fear; Kagami catches both Satsuki and him with one arm and drags them to the chairs. The phantom is pale and murmurs things to himself, some of them are apologizes, others are comments made out of anger that Midorima can’t hold against him. He stands there, next to Kagami –who looks lost and unsure of what to do–, feeling he should say something but unable to bring himself to do it.
“This can’t be happening”, Tetsuya says, “this can’t…”
“It doesn’t make sense”, Kagami sights, scratching the back of his head, “it doesn’t sound like Aomine. It’s…”.
“It does, actually”, the shooting guard interrupts him. “It makes sense, if you think about it”.
“How can he just…ditch you?”, he’s angry and worried about Kuroko, Shintarou knows, and the annoyed tone is nothing more than his concern flying out of him. “How can he just quit?”, and Momoi sobs louder between his friend’s arms, making the redhead feel so guilty for it.
“I should’ve seen something”, Kuroko says, angry at himself, still holding the girl. “I should have known something was wrong”.
“Don’t do that to yourself, Tetsu-kun”, the girl presses her face on his neck, hugging him back. “It wasn’t you who has been with him every day…”, she swallows, “every day for the last 17 years”.
“You have done everything humanly possible”, Midorima assures her. “You always had. This is in no way your fault. Nobody could have done it better than you”.
“It is. It is my fault”, she sounds so convinced, so serious, and Shintarou wants to laugh because it’s absolutely ridiculous to think Momoi Satsuki failed at her self-imposed job, the one she has given her life to. She, eternally devoted and caring, can’t fail at it, plain and simple, because it is as natural for her as breathing. “It is. Where was I when this was happening? At the cinema with some friends! The cinema! Can you believe it? I was watching a movie while Dai-chan, my Dai-chan, was…”, she breaks into tears again, falling to her knees, trying to hide her red face on her hands, and Midorima can’t move, even when he wants to hug her so much. It’s Tetsuya, calm as always, the one who pulls her up again, and the only thing he manage to force himself to do is make sure her skirt doesn’t slide up.
He lets himself fall on the chair next to Momoi, putting his hand on hers and the other reaching towards Kuroko, out of pure instinct, out of pure need.
Snapping his fingers, letting go his friend’s hand for less than a second, he makes a sign to Kagami to take off his jacket and cover her with it. The redhead obeys in silence and watches them. Three miracles, barely shadows of what they were before, bleeding out in front of him.
Kise arrives next, running and crying and stuttering, looking so weak he breaks Midorima’s heart. He has always had a soft spot for the Copycat; for some reason he has a very particular kind of concerned when it comes to the blond teen, maybe it’s because Ryouta could hurt himself in a padded room, maybe he knows how little he cares about himself. Either way, he does.
The Copycat stops right in front of Aomine’s mother, putting a hand on her shoulder, hugging her as soon as she turns around. The woman hugs him back, caressing his back and whispering calming words into his ears, telling him not to worry, to trust doctors, to not fall into desperation, and send him to the chairs where his friends are. Halfway there, of course, the nurses surround him like a bunch of bees, asking for selfies and autographs, without any consideration for his clearly bad state of mind. Kise won’t push them away, won’t say no to anything they ask; he’ll smile and be professional, this is part of the job after all, but Shintarou won’t. He jumps from his chair, hurries there, pushing them away not caring about their complains, and stands next to his friend like a 6’5” gigantic bodyguard.
“Don’t you have any shame at all?”, he growls. “Are you uncapable of being professional?”
“It’s okay, Midorimacchi”, Kise says softly. “They’re not trying to be mean, just…”.
“No”, he interrupts him. “This is preposterous! Absolutely unacceptable!”, he can see how some of the nurses start to look down, slightly walking backwards. “This is a hospital! This is a terrible moment for all of us, including you, and they are selfish enough to do this anyways”, he’s angry, out of himself, barely holding it together. “I will make a formal complain to the hospital for your outrageous behaviour”.
“Really, I understand…”, the blond insists.
“Go sit there”, Midorima commands. “I will handle this”.
“We are so sorry”, one nurse says. “We weren’t trying to be disrespectful”.
“I want you away from him”, he murmurs, threatening. “If there is any information about our friend, you will either talk to his mother or send a doctor to talk to us. Do not dare to get close again”, the nurses nod, silent. “I won’t tolerate this a second time”.
Kise stumbles his way to the chairs, moving slowly, like he’s about to fall any second now. Midorima follows him, seeing how Kagami extends his hand towards the model so he can support himself on it, giving him some stability.
The sight is not unexpectable, and yet is devastating to see. The blonde’s crying face is torturous; and he can’t avoid thinking in how this gorgeous boy looks like a dead man walking, falling in front of Kuroko to sit on the floor, closing his eyes like he’s praying for this not to be true.
For a moment, the short teen gets close, grabbing Ryouta by the neck and putting their foreheads together, whispering comforting words because he knows his friend is on his breaking point. Shintarou admires that part of Tetsuya, always capable of keeping it together long enough to do that type of thing. He envies it, he wishes he could do that too. So, he forces himself to do it, touching the back of Kise’s head, caressing his hair just for a moment. Golden eyes fall on him, followed by sudden arms around his body, pressing him into a tight hug he can’t help but to reciprocate. He lets his friend cry against his neck, whisper words he cannot understand under the tears and sobs; he lets him break down on him, offering that he so desperately needs.
Midorima keeps one hand on the Copycat’s head, holding him there, the other is around his waist, forcing their bodies to stay together. He murmurs promises he’s not sure he can keep into his ear, reminds him they are there, that he is not alone in that hospital’s waiting room, that whatever this is they will make it out. And Kise begs, cries, asks, searches answers between his arms. He won’t let go, the shooting guard promises, he’ll hug him for as long as he needs him to.
“Why didn’t he say something?”, Kise asks, finally letting go. “We would’ve help. He knows that, right? He has to know”.
“Of course he does, Kise-kun”, Kuroko tells him, pulling him by the hand so he sits on the floor again. “Of course he knows. He just…he just couldn’t bring himself to do it”.
“Maybe he was ashamed”, Midorima says, not fully convinced. “You know how he is. He probably thought it was unmanly to feel the way he was feeling”.
“That’s so fucking stupid”, Kagami whisper under his breath.
“He takes a lot of pride on his masculinity for reasons we do not need to explain to you”, Shintarou growls. “It is very plausible thing, as it should be perfectly obvious”.
“It’s fucking ridiculous, that’s what it is”, the redhead insists. “He has friends and a mom who clearly are willing to help, how can he possibly think this is a better fucking option?”
“Kagami-kun, please calm down”, Tetsuya begs him. “This is not the moment to be mad at him”.
“Look at you”, Taiga rises his voice a little more. “You are devastated for this. What he did is selfish as fuck. He did this because…what? To prove masculinity? You can’t expect me to not be angry at the guy who has you like this, who didn’t have any consideration for you”.
“Please, stop it”, Kise whispers, covering his face with both hands.
“I won’t hear this”, Momoi says, standing up. “I’m going to the bathroom until you get your shit together”, she walks away.
“Well, this is what he always does, doesn’t he?”, he laughs bitterly. “Just as he did in middle school. He’s just diching you again”.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?”, Midorima finally intervenes. “Who are you to say those kinds of things to us?”.
“Come on! You can’t tell me it isn’t true”, Kagami keeps going, ignoring how angry the taller teen is getting.
“Don’t you dare to talk like you know anything about him”, he pushes him.
“Oh, I know a lot of things about that bastard”, the redhead pushes him back.
“Get out of here”, Shintarou exclaims. “You have no right to be here. You think you know something about what happened? About how it was back then? You have no idea. You have no right to stand there and say those kind of crap about him”.
“All I need to know is he is the bastard who hurt Kuroko like he was nothing, and that he did it again now. Are you going to defend him? Be my guest. I won’t do it”.
“Keep talking and I’ll break your fucking nose”, Midorima says, his jaw stiff and his breathing unsteady. “Keep insulting him and you’ll see what happens”, he pushes him again, hitting his chest with both hands. “I won’t allow you to talk like that about him in front of us. I will simply not permit you to make them feel worse than they already do”.
“What? You can’t handle the truth? Are you guys going to stay here, heartbroken, for that trash? Does Kuroko deserve this? Does Kise? Momoi has given her fucking life for him, and that bastard don’t give a fuck”.
Midorima Shintarou has never been violent. Easily annoyed? Yes. Explosive constant yelling? Of course. But straight up violent? Never. He knows how to fight –after horrible years of bullying– but refuses to do so; it’s a level of impulsiveness he hates to reach. Still, right now, it is impossible for him to stop in front of the hard, yet mostly true, words of this new guy who thinks he can say whatever he wants.
He throws a punch directly to his nose, as hard as he can, which is a lot, hearing his friends’ voices echoing on his ears, asking him to stop. But he can’t, he won’t; he asked Kagami to quit talking shit about Aomine, who is still somewhere away from them surrounded by doctors, he told him he was going to hit him if he didn’t shut up. So, when the redhead’s body hits the ground, he jumps on top of him and keeps punching, again and again until the other teen pulls him off and throws him on the floor, hitting him back, furious with all he has.
“Stop it!”, Kise cries, trying to pull Kagami away. “Please, just fucking stop”.
“Let go of him”, Kuroko tries to grab him by the arm but his friend, completely by accident, hits him on the ribs with his elbow, making him fall.
Both Kagami and Midorima let go of each other, almost paralyze, looking at the small teen hugging his own body in pain. Aomine’s mother runs towards them and starts yelling.
“What is wrong with you two? We are in a fucking hospital. My baby is God knows where and you are doing this absolute shit like a couple of kids? Do you want me to arrest you? Is that what you want?”, she is angry, desperate, collapsed by the situation.
Satsuki’s father helps Tetsuya to get up and sit on the chair again, looking at them with furious eyes.
“I am very sorry, madam”, Midorima bows. “It will not happen again”.
“We just…lost our cool for a second”, Kagami tries to explain. “Kuroko, I didn’t…”
“I know it was accident”, he interrupts him. “I’ll keep them under control, Aomine-san. We are very sorry for this”.
“I am very disappointed at you, Shintarou”, she shakes her head side to side with a disapproving tone. “I expected better”.
I expected better.
I expected better.
I expected better.
He feels childish, but he has every right to. Kagami was acting like an insensitive prick, saying things like they aren’t basically grieving and crying and fighting to understand what is going on, and even if he knows he could’ve handled the situation better, he doesn’t regret the swollen lip and bloody nose he left on the other teen’s face. Besides, Aomine would have done the same thing for him, and that is reason enough.
Letting himself fall on one of the chairs, ignoring his own battle wounds, he thinks about Aomine; Aomine and the way he used to laugh during practices, whole chest into it like a roar, incapable to stop even when the coach was yelling at him. He thinks about the way he sang in the gym showers, horribly and loudly, dancing under the water without a care in the world. He thinks in how much he misses hearing his strong voice saying something so stupid he wants to punch him and how better it was when compared to the “I’m sorry” he whispered to him just an hour ago. And he wishes he was strong enough to handle this the right way, to take the hit gracefully, to use the place he has to do something good for them, like he should’ve done before. But no, because he’s childish and it doesn’t matter how much he tries to convince himself he is capable of doing this, he simply isn’t. So, he closes his eyes, lets Kise clean his blood away with a napkin, nods when Kagami apologizes and whispers “I’m sorry” when Momoi gets back and sits next to him.
“We are all nervous”, Kuroko says to anyone in particular, “and we all have opinions and theories about what happened but this…”
“This is clearly not the time to share them”, Midorima finishes. “All we can do now is wait and hope for the best. I recommend doing it in silence”.
“When is Akashicchi getting here?”, Kise asks, again on the floor, looking lost.
“And Murasakibara-kun?”, the phantom player adds.
“It’s like a 6-hour trip”, Kagami comments.
“No, it isn’t”, the shooting guard corrects him. “Akashi sent a helicopter for Murasakibara, and one for himself. It shouldn’t take longer than an hour”.
“Poor Mukkun!”, the girl exclaims. “He must be so worried and scared. He hates planes”.
“He’ll be okay”, Kuroko tries to console her. “It’s a short flight and he’s probably more concerned about Aomine-kun”.
“I can’t imagine what it is to be so far and receive that type of news”, she shakes her head, eyes full of tears again. “I’m glad Akashi-kun found a way to make it less…less terrible”.
“We’ll find a way to make it better, Momoicchi”, Kise says, putting his hand on the girl’s shoulder. “We’ll make it through”.
“He’s tough”, Midorima sighs, and maybe he’s saying it more to himself than to his friend; maybe he’s making it a prayer. “You know he is. He’s been through worse”.
“Hey, Midorimacchi”, the blonde calls him. “Where is Takao?”.
“At his aunt’s house”, he answers. “I won’t bother him with this; besides I doubt Aomine would want it to go public. A stab in the ego is the last thing he needs”.
Shintarou would be lying if he said he doesn’t want his boyfriend to come. There is nothing he wants more right now; after all, Kazunari is a rock under pressure, way more competent in hard situations than he is; he has the wonderful ability of extreme coldness when the context requires it. In that sense, the point guard would be twice more useful than him here. Deep inside, the shooter knows his sole presence would make him break down in tears, fall on his knees and hug his waist, looking for the kind of consolation only Takao can provide. Probably that is the reason he hasn’t call him yet, he can’t bring himself to betray his friends with that kind of weakness.
He prays, inside his head, for Akashi to arrive; to take off his back the unbearable heaviness responsibility brings, to let him feel the sorrow and weight on his own, process the sight of Aomine’s body on the floor, bleeding, dying, leaving. He doesn’t think it is going to be easy for his ex-captain to deal with it either, not even the Emperor is going to be able to take it gracefully, but now, here, he feels selfish enough to ignore the needs Seijurou may have.
Kise slides his arms around one of his, resting his head on his shoulder, and the warmness of his body calms him down slightly. In a normal situation, he would shake him off, push him away without thinking twice about it, but he needs this as much as the blonde does, so he rests his head on his, closes his eyes in silence, lets himself to look for comfort in the familiarity. Kuroko, often so distant and cold, tangles his fingers on one of Shintarou’s hands, holds it tight, with Satsuki still under one of his arms.
There, the four of them on the floor once again, hold each other, bury themselves in the shared pain and fear. There is so little they can do now, almost nothing other than wait. Wait for a doctor to say something, for Akashi and Murasakibara to get here, for time to go faster or, better yet, backwards.
“We should ask Akashi-kun to talk to the doctors and nurses when he gets here”, the phantom exclaims with an unusually high tone. “We can’t let anyone not essential know about this”.
“Yes, I believe a couple of threats should be made”, Midorima nods, “I would not feel comfortable trusting exclusively in their good judgements”.
“Is it really that important to keep it a secret?”, Kagami asks, timidly, trying to not fuck it up again. “I get Aomine is…a very proud person, but it’s a lot of weight on Akashi’s shoulders”.
“Well, yeah, you’re not wrong. It’s just…”, Kise tries to talk but his throat is so dry he can barely murmur a few words at a time.
“We understand your point, Kagami-kun, we really do”, the girl says, “but I know him well enough to be sure about it”.
“I assure you Akashi will agree with us”, Shintarou adds, “even if we don’t suggest it, he will do it on his own accord. There is very little Aomine values more than his reputation, and it would be irresponsible of us to not respect a wish we know he has with this much certainty”.
“You’re all so fucking pragmatic”, the redhead sighs, “, it weirds me out”.
“This is not the moment to be emotional”.
“This is a very good time to be emotional”, the teen exclaims, half embarrass. “I know I said very inappropriate things and I’m sorry. I really am, and I’m worried about him too, and I can’t even think straight”.
“Would you rather to leave this kind of responsibility on his mother?”, the shooter asks. “Or Momoi’s father who, just so you know, helped raised him since he was a baby?”
“No…”
“Something terrible happened, something painful and disorienting and devastating in ways you can’t even begin to imagine, but what we feel, for more valid it is, cannot be compare with the type of sorrow she is going through”.
“Midorima-kun, please…he is not trying to be mean”.
“I know”, he whispers, closing his eyes for a second. “, but you must understand, Kagami, that our usefulness here is as essential as our presence and company, if not more. He would not like us to abandon his mother in times like this; we have a duty, and I will not fall short in it. I will not fail him in this too”.
That’s what all of this is about, isn’t it? The guilt that is eating him alive is the only reason he hasn’t fall apart completely yet, it’s why he’s forcing himself to carry on and provide security and stability to his friends, or at the very least try to.
“Shintarou”, he hears Akashi calling him, light steps get closer and closer, so he jumps up and looks for him. There, at the very end of the hallway, is the captain of the Generation of Miracles, walking towards them with an incredible calmness; the teen has a sports’ bag hanging on his shoulder and an unusual softness in his eyes, but somewhere between his almost irrational composure and recomforting rationality, Midorima can see the unsure expression in his face, the erratic terror that invades him just as it does with them.
“Akashi”, the shooting guard whispers. “We haven’t heard anything yet”.
“They probably want to stabilize him completely before saying something”, the captain says as he’s hug tightly by Satsuki and then Kise; with a strange kindness, he hugs them back with both arms. “Let’s give it another half an hour before asking. Where is Sargent Aomine?”.
“She’s right there, Akashi-kun”, Kuroko answers, confused. It is not normal for Akashi to not see everything around him.
“I will go talk to her for a second”, the teen explains, “Atsushi should get here soon enough, don’t worry”.
Midorima watches as Seijurou walks his way towards Aomine’s mother. His small frame looks littler than it normally does, and he figures it must be his body compressing itself to keep all the desperation inside, deep down where nobody will be able to find it. The tall teen can’t say he wants to take some of the heaviness off Akashi’s shoulders, as a matter of fact he will very much like to throw everything his way and drown himself in his own pain; but he can’t, so he won’t, and he’ll remain standing for as long as humanly possible.
Murasakibara is barely a person when he gets to the hospital, being guided, mostly dragged, by Himuro. Sunken eyes and pale face, the giant moves more like a zombie than a 17-year-old boy, all the strength has disappeared from his body, leaving behind a lost little boy who hasn’t been able to process what it’s happening to his friend. The center doesn’t fix his eyes anywhere, just stares at nothing, shaking, with tears in his eyes; and Shintarou thinks in how lost he must feel, how unsure he must be, because this is unreal, because this shouldn’t be happening to them, to people like them. This kind of things, he thinks, happen to other people, to weak, mostly useless people; it doesn’t happen to talented boys with loud laughs and friends who love them, this doesn’t happen to boys who just got their friends back and his life in order. This kind of things happen to the type of boys they destroyed on courts, robbed souls and broken spirits, it doesn’t happen to Aomine Daiki. It doesn’t happen to the star of the show.
Atsushi sits on one of the chairs without saying a word, allowing Momoi to touch his hair and hold his head with the softness only a sister has. She kisses his shoulder, caresses his face, and assures him everything will be okay; Tatsuya agrees out loud, promising things he shouldn’t.
“Stop thinking, it will only make you feel worse than you already do”, Akashi is suddenly standing next to him. “I would recommend you go and take a shower, but I doubt you want to leave”.
“I’m staying”, he answers. “I don’t want to leave him alone”, the captain decides he can ignore the last part.
“Where is your shadow, by the way?”, the short teen asks. “I was sure he was going to be here, but to be fair, it was not the easiest flight I have had”.
“I have not informed him of the situation yet. I don’t want to interrupt his day with such a personal thing”.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Shintarou”, Akashi says, a clear hint of sarcasm in his voice, “but relationships should be for better or for worse. At least, that is how we worked back in the day”.
“That’s marriage”.
“Oh, you two are as close as it gets for people our age”, he smiles.
“I’ll call him when things have calm down more”, Midorima gives in, and then turns to look at his friend. “I’m glad you are here”, he confesses. “It’s been…”
“Tough, I can imagine”, the captain nods, “and after what you saw today…well, you have done an incredible job, Shintarou, all things consider”.
“I should have done it sooner”.
“Don’t torture yourself”, Akashi squeezes his arm a little, “It won’t do you any good”, he sighs, tiredly. “I will go with Ryouta and Atsushi now”.
“It’ll be wise”, the shooter agrees, “Kise is barely keeping it together and Murasakibara looks…”
“About to break, yes”, he exhales all the air on his lungs, and talks again, “I’ll relieve Himuro of that weight for a moment, it must have been a terrible flight”.
Yosen’s shooting guard looks indeed very tired and Shintarou assumes he spent the entire trip to Tokyo holding the other teen, trying to calm him down without succeeding. Nobody will blame him if he decides to leave and go to sleep at Kagami’s apartment, it would be understandable and it is not like he would be leaving Murasakibara alone; still, he stands there, a hand on his friend’s shoulder, offering candies and food the taller boy doesn’t even look at.
It's been two hours since he got to the hospital, such a short time for so many things to happen; it feels like forever, like being stuck in the same moment without the possibility of moving forward. He prays to a God he does not believe in, begs to whatever is out there that is willing to listen, for this to be a bad dream, to not be real, to be some kind of horrible hallucination induce by a gas leak in his house; he wishes, silently and away from everyone else, to open his eyes and still be in bed, thinking about his dentist appointment and checking his phone to answer his boyfriend’s texts. And maybe if he tries really hard, Aomine will be fine at home sleeping like the sloth he is.
It doesn’t happen.
Midorima forces himself to sit on a chair again, once he caught Kise looking at him a little too intensely and extending his arm, like asking him to hold his hand. They stay there for a couple of minutes, existing completely out of reach for the world, closer to each other than they ever were back in middle school. The blond one shakes, moves his leg up and down, and it looks like he’s about to vomit any second now; before he can get up to drag Ryouta to the restroom, Kuroko is already carrying him there, or as much as he can.
Akashi, once again alone in the middle of the hallway, decides to join him, sitting next to him in complete silence. There isn’t too much to say, anyways. Nothing will comfort them enough, nothing ever will. Shintarou once loved the boy beside him, was once deeply in love with him; a little less than two years ago, they were walking down the street with the rest of the team, holding hands, smiling at each other, safe in a relationship that made sense, that was real, until everything fell apart under their feet. Now, he allows himself to hold his hand once again, let him rest his head on his shoulder in a sign of weakness he didn’t believe he was capable of, he lets him do it because they are best friends, they have always been, and the love is there just like it did before; the warmness is familiar, known, eternal. He missed it for so long he cannot believe he isn’t in love with him anymore, but at least, at the very least, he has his friend with him, exactly as it should be.
Their moment of comfort ends with the sudden sound of shoes sliding on the floor, like someone tried to stop running too fast. When he turns around to look, only because Momoi called his name, he sees Takao running towards him, face red and worried eyes, and Midorima feels his soul returning to his body; he lets Akashi’s hand go and doesn’t say a word as he runs to meet Kazunari half-way. His boyfriend’s voice is desperate and full of concern, confused and unsure of what happened but the truth is it doesn’t matter, because he is here and Midorima needed him like crazy; he needed him in the same way he needs oxygen. The shooter holds the other teen tight between his arms, ignoring his questions, his apologizes for taking so long, his attempts to calm him; he just presses him against his body until his legs give in, making him slide down to the floor, still hugging him, now by the waist, and finally breaks into tears, sobbing and whispering and begging him to not leave. Takao hugs him back, gets down to be at his level, holds his face between his hands and puts their foreheads together; he offers kind words, soft caresses, and small kisses, gives him, with his mere presence, all the things he needs.
“Oh, love”, the teen murmurs, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay”.
“There was so much blood”, Shintarou cries, “so much blood all over the floor. I didn’t…I…”
“You did good, Shin-chan”, his boyfriend says softly. “You brought him here. You did good”.
“I could have done more…”, he whispers. “I should have done more”.
“You did everything you could, everything humanly possible as you always do”, Takao comforts him, touches his cheeks, wipes his tears with all the love of the world. “Let’s clean you up, okay? You hate being dirty”.
“I’m okay…”
“No, Shin-chan. I’m cleaning you up, and after that I’m going to get you out of these clothes”.
There is no point in arguing with him, not now or ever. His tone is firm yet sweet, ready to drag him out of the hole he is in; it is a wonderful thing to have Takao here, as pragmatic as he is but twice as soft and slightly colder under pressure. The shorter teen forces him to sit down and, snapping his fingers, asks Kagami to pass him his backpack; it’s full of things: clothes, wet wipes, cookies, toothbrush, etc.
Slowly, he cleans his boyfriend’s face and neck, then his hands and arms, without saying a word. In his silence, the rest of the people there observe the almost majestic movements and how docile Midorima looks under them, how Takao could cut his throat open right then and there and the shooting guard wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t give it a second thought. From time to time, he reaches to him with his taped fingers, touching his cheek, his Adam’s apple, shoulders, with unsteady hands, like he’s making sure he is still there.
“What happened to your hand?!”, Kazunari exclaims a little too loud. “When did this happened?”
“I punched Kagami”, he answers.
“Why?!”
“I was being a piece of shit”, the redhead sighs, “I hit him back a little bit”.
“Okay…I’m not sure if I want to know”, the point guard shakes his head. “Okay, Shin-chan, let’s get you change. I’ll clean that hand on the bathroom. Come on”.
“I’m okay, really”, is the only thing he manages to say.
“I know, but still…do it for me”, usually, he’s not a big fan of emotional manipulation; specially because Shin-chan is very good at taking care of himself, but this is a ridiculously specific context, so he’s going to do what he has to do; and for the look on Akashi’s face, he agrees.
Midorima takes his boyfriend’s hand when he offers it to him, lets himself be drag along towards the restroom because What other choice does he have? Takao’s skin is soft against his and the smell of his perfume fills him when they start walking next to each other; he would like to tell him he is fine and not be lying, say he can do this on his own, but the idea of those pale, almost silver eyes falling on him with even more concern, with disbelief, makes him stop considering it. He can imagine how his voice would sound while he tells him it is okay to ask for help and all those other things his psychology professor mother-in-law has taught her son. He wishes Kazu was less observant, a little worse at reading his micro expressions, just enough for him to have the chance to lie about how he feels about this. But Kazu knows with only one look, without having the need to ask or wait for an answer, because he notices even the smallest change on his breathing or voice.
“I’m gonna throw this to the trash, okay? It’s not like we can wash it off anyways”, Takao says as he slides off Midorima’s shirt. “I mean, I could try but it isn’t worth it”.
“He cut his wrist”, Shintarou whispers out of nothing, completely ignoring him. “He cut his wrist and he was…bleeding out on the floor”.
“I know, love”.
“He looked so pale”, he keeps going, shaking when his boyfriend pushes on a t-shirt, “like he was already dead”.
“It must have been terrible”, the short teen caresses his cheek.
“I thought he was dead…for a second, I thought he was gone”, the shooter is fighting the need to cry, he’s not sure why, maybe because his eyes hurt or because he hates crying in front of Takao. “And it felt like…like someone was ripping my heart out off my chest; like something was missing”.
“I’m so sorry, Shin-chan”, Kazunari murmurs, hugging him. “I’m so sorry you had to see that”.
“This is all my fault”, he exclaims, filled with guilt once again.
“No, it isn’t, Shin-chan. I know what you mean, but you would never hurt or abandon someone on propose”.
“No, you don’t understand”, he sounds frenetic now, walking side to side on the restroom while pressing his fingernails on his palms. “You have no idea how things went back then! It’s not like it happened all at the same time, it’s not like I didn’t see it coming! I was there and I saw everything going worse and worse and worse and I didn’t do anything! I didn’t say anything! Aomine was so depressed and angry all the time, punching the walls and scaring Kuroko; and Kise…shit, Kise cried all the time in the locker room, and I saw him pass next to me afterwards a thousand times and I did nothing, I didn’t say anything, I really wanted to but…but I always figured I would do it next time and…and then didn’t. And Akashi…Akashi was…he was gone, the person I knew was gone and I didn’t know what to do, so I didn’t even try! I stood there and saw how the first place that meant something to me, the only good thing I had, was falling apart and I didn’t do anything!”
“You were a child”.
“I was their friend!”, he yells, “I was supposed to be there for them! I was supposed to at least try to help but I didn’t. And maybe if I had, maybe if I had tried with Aomine, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe I should have called more often; checked on him more; he lives in the same city, and I left him alone anyways! Maybe if I told him I loved him more often, told him he is my friend and that he matters, he wouldn’t have done this. I should have taken care of him, I knew he wasn’t okay, I knew the thing that was eating him couldn’t disappear just like that, but again I did nothing because I wanted to believe everything was fine. Because it was easier, because I was happy, and I simply ignored what it should’ve been so obvious! I left him alone and he rather killed himself instead of talking to me. Not even a call or a text or a fucking goodbye because I didn’t deserve it. I failed him! I failed him in Teiko and I failed him now!”
Midorima falls on his knees and cries, sobs, and begs for forgiveness, whispers apologies Aomine cannot hear, prays for another chance, for one more try, for something he doesn’t believe he deserves. Takao, in his eternal kindness, sits next to him on the restroom’s floor, in silence; touches his hand and leaves kisses on his fingers, and tries to convince him this isn’t his fault, but knows Shin-chan won’t hear, won’t care, won’t stop blaming himself for it, and not even the soft voice of the boy he loves can convince him otherwise.