Work Text:
It wasn’t the first time. There had been several nights before that one, when Yukimura Seiichi had drifted out of his nearly constant unconscious state. Every time he had become aware of his surroundings he had been able to feel warm, strong hands clasping his, followed by a head resting on the edge of the hospital bed. Yukimura had been able to feel the other’s presence, to smell their familiar scent, but he hadn’t been capable of getting himself to open his eyes in order to see them. The boy couldn’t move a muscle.
The formerly so active and athletic young man, bursting with life, had become but a ghost of himself; his vibrant skin had turned ash grey and his bright smile had dimmed. Lying in his bed, hooked onto various machines, Yukimura felt like he was trapped inside an impregnable fortress of one-way mirrors. He could tell what was going on around him, but nobody could hear or see him. His body was broken, and he could feel his mind slowly following suit. Therefore one certain night nearly broke his heart as well.
When Yukimura regained his senses again that night, he could immediately feel that something was different from usual. Instead of the typical silence, now and then pierced by a beep or a sigh from the machines around him, he heard something. After a while Yukimura could tell that the being usually calmly sleeping by his bedside was trembling, and the sound he heard was coming from them. It was sobbing.
The silent sobs echoed within the hollow room and repeated:
“Seiichi.”
He heard the one beside him inhale in broken gasps.
“Seiichi.”
He felt small droplets of water trickle onto the back of his hand.
“Seiichi.”
The unvoiced pleads were audible to Yukimura in every sigh.
“Come back to me.” I’m trying.
“Please.” Believe me.
“I need you.” I know.
Every cell in Yukimura’s body was screaming to move and touch that suffering person next to him. To gently stroke their hair. To wipe their tears away. To call out to them.
Yes, to call their name. There was nothing Yukimura wanted more than to feel the air rushing through his lungs, to savour the taste of the syllables as they rolled onto his tongue and feel them reverberating through his body as he let them free from his lips. He focused all of his determination on that one thought, that one tiny glimpse of hope he could bring to the despairing person longing for him, and he screamed.
Yukimura, in his deep concentration, hadn’t heard the steady, slow beeping of the heart monitor suddenly turn more frequent, but the one waiting by his side certainly had. Their head had snapped up in an instant with worry and their eyes had darted to examine the frail boy’s nearly lifeless face. But when there had been no traces of pain or ease to be seen, they had slouched back into their seat again. Just as they had been about to look away from Yukimura, they had seen a twitch on his usually motionless lips. Followed by another. And another. They had rubbed their weary eyes in disbelief, thinking they were being tricked, but had soon realized that they weren’t. Slowly but determinedly those chapped lips had formed a voiceless name:
“Genichirou.”