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The hospital halls, that reeked of disinfectant and death, seemed to weigh down Kousei’s legs, as he dragged them slowly. He hardly remembered the walk from school to the hospital, but the next thing he knew it, he was there.
Kousei could hear the distant echo of children talking and laughing. He paid them no mind though, as he came face to face with his destination.
The door with the name clearly labeled:
Miyazono Kaori
Kousei pulled on the hem of his hoodie, suddenly feeling more nervous than before. Visiting Kaori at the hospital always made him nervous, but ever since her trip to the ICU, it felt suffocating. Each time he saw her, she got worse, somehow. Even less color on her cheeks, even more pale, even more bony.
A part of him wanted to run and hide from it all. To go home instead and sleep, where he could forget everything.
He promised he wouldn’t forget. So, he showed up.
Kousei opened the door slowly, nervously sticking his head in. “…Hello?”
Kaori was sitting up, with her back resting against the upright bed. There was a pink gaming console in her hands; the one that Watari had brought her months ago. She turned to Kousei, the smallest of gestures, and forced a small smile. “Hi.”
She had noticeably less energy, lately. Some days she was better, making jokes and swinging back and forth in place as she always did. Today, though, she seemed tired, and her eyebags looked heavier than last time.
“You look tired.” Kaori pointed out.
Kousei almost laughed at the irony. He didn’t. “So do you. Not sleeping well?”
Kaori shook her head. “I feel like I’ve been doing nothing but sleeping. I want to stay awake.”
Kousei shuffled his feet against the ground. To stay awake and make the most of her final moments. Of course, he remembered his mother was the same way. Fighting her sick and fatigued body to continue to practice with Kousei. There were many times — more than Kousei could count on his fingers — where she had fallen asleep in her chair. Each time, Kousei would bring her a blanket, and continue to practice on his own, with hopes that his music would calm her dreams.
“What about you?” Kaori asked. “Not sleeping well?”
Kousei lowered his head and hummed. Before, he used to sleep to escape reality. Now, the fear of reality kept him awake, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep. Nor could he get himself to touch the piano, so he spent his nights wide awake, staring at his clock and begging it to be morning already, so he could go to school and do something to keep his mind busy.
“When was the last time you slept?”
Kousei gave a half hearted shrug. “Maybe last night, maybe the night before.”
Kaori clucked her tongue. “The finals are coming up. You’re going to pass out on stage.”
”So what?” Kousei wondered. ”It’s not like I have any chance of winning, anyway.”
“You should worry about yourself.” Kousei said, instead. “You’re the one who’s sick here, not me.”
“If you keep that up, both of us will be in the hospital.” Kaori gripped the sheets of her bed. “Just because you’re healthy now, doesn’t mean you always will. Skip enough nights of sleep, and you’ll be on death’s door. You should appreciate your healthy body by taking good care of it.”
Kousei hunched his shoulders, the guilt creeping in his chest. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
He waited for another lecture, but Kaori sighed instead, and patted at the bed.
“Sit down.”
Kousei shifted. “I’d rather—”
“Sit.” Kaori patted again. “Down.”
Kousei hung his head, and did as he was told. He tried to sit as far off the edge as he could. He didn’t want to hog Kaori’s bed from her, especially when she was so weak.
“Worried about the competition?” she asked, her voice low. “You’ll do fine.”
Kousei bit his lip. The competition was the least of his worries, even if he hadn’t been practicing. His brain was so fogged from lack of sleep, that the competition anxiety hadn’t hit him yet, even though it was three days away.
He wasn’t sure if it would ever hit. There were more important things in his mind.
“I’m worried about you.” Kousei admitted, pulling on a loose string from his hoodie.
“You shouldn’t be losing sleep over that.” Kaori said, putting his hand over his own. It was cold, and frail. “You should be focusing on the competition, instead of worrying about me.”
Kousei looked away from Kaori’s hands. “I’m going to worry no matter what. It’s what I do.”
Kaori scoffed and laughed. “Alright, fine. How about this?”
She set her pillow down, and slowly laid down. All of her movements have been slow and careful, lately. Then, she patted at the space beside her.
“No.” Kousei said.
“Come on,” Kaori whined. “Humor me.”
“I’m not going to steal half of your bed when you’re sick.” Kousei shook his head. “I’ll sleep at home.”
“No you won’t.” Kaori said. “You’re just going to worry more. Come on.”
Kousei remained unmoving.
“Are you really going to say no to a poor, sick girl?” Kaori asked, pitching her voice for dramatic effect. “I’ll tell everyone you’ve been bullying me.”
“You always tell them that.”
“Come on. Do it for me?” Kaori patted harder. “Come on, come on, come on—”
“Fine, I’ll do it.” Kousei grimaced. “Move your hand.”
Kaori grinned, and moved to the side to make space for Kousei. Kousei pried his shoes off, and laid down next to Kaori — carefully, as though any sudden movements would harm her.
“There we go.” Kaori said. “That wasn’t too hard, was it?”
Her face was too close, and it made Kousei’s ears burn. Maybe that was exactly the kind of reaction she wanted to get from him, so Kousei fought to keep his face straight.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he reminded himself. “She still likes Watari. There’s nothing weird about this.”
Kaori brought her hand to his hair, and Kousei nearly jumped. She ran her fingers through the strands, and let out a breathy laugh as her fingers got stuck.
“You need to brush your hair.” she said. “You’re a mess.”
“I know.”
Kaori hummed to herself, as she tried to undo the knots with her fingers. “You won’t be able to sleep if you stay tense like this.”
“I don’t want to sleep. I’m not tired.” Kousei lied.
“Sure you aren’t.” Kaori rolled her eyes. “Did your mother sing you any lullabies when you were a kid?”
Kousei stiffened at the mention of his mother. He vaguely remembered the way she would sing to him, her voice rough from illness, but gentle. But when he tried to remember any of the songs, he came up empty. As if there was a hole in his memory.
Still, he didn’t like the way this conversation was going.
“I’m not a baby.” Kousei mumbled. “I’m not going to fall asleep with a lullaby.”
“Wanna prove it?” Kaori smirked. “Come on big guy. Pick a song.”
Kousei huffed. “Why are you so obsessed with me getting sleep, anyway? Seriously, it’s fine.”
“Alright, I got it.” Kaori said, and pulled Kousei’s head closer, so that the top of his head was resting against her cheek. But before Kousei could pull away, she began to hum again.
Kousei’s eyes widened at the first few notes.
Love’s Sorrow.
At first, Kousei squirmed in place, trying to worm his way out of her grasp. But Kaori continued to hum as she ran her fingers through his air, unbothered by his movements. Eventually, he laid limp.
“Come on, Miyazono-san…”
She didn’t reply, although her humming got louder, as though she were trying to tune out Kousei’s whining. Kousei huffed, and kept his mouth shut. Love’s Sorrow wasn’t a terribly long piece — he would just wait until she finished.
So he did exactly that, closing his eyes and breathing in as he took in the scent of the hospital, of Kaori’s skin, of the strawberry scented plush between them. Sleep threatened to take him, but Kousei fought back. He was determined to not let her win; he would only have to wait a few more seconds until she was unfinished.
Unfortunately for him, the moment she finished, she started again, like a record.
Kousei started squirming again. “Miyazono-san—”
“Hush.” she said, not unkindly. “Go to sleep. You’re already halfway there.”
“No I’m not.” Kousei blinked rapidly, trying to wake himself up.
Kaori didn’t bother to reply to him that time, too focused on humming Love’s Sorrow. If there was one thing Kousei learned about Kaori over the last year, it was that she wouldn’t stop until she got what she wanted. So he let himself fall limp again, even if he was bitter about it. Maybe, if he were lucky, Kaori would fall asleep before him.
The more he focused on the humming, the more uneasy he felt. The way Kaori hummed; the way her voice would give out if a note was too low, the way she kept it gentle, just barely above a whisper, even though her voice was so rough…
It was exactly the way his mother used to sing to him.
It hit him then, just how familiar this scene was. His mother used to cradle him in her hospital bed as well, as she would hum various pieces to him. Love’s Sorrow was a favorite, of course.
Kousei began to shake. It was happening all over again. Someone he loved was going to leave him, the exact same way, again. The nightmare never seemed to end, it repeated the story, each time with a different person.
“Shh…” Kaori paused her humming to whisper against his forehead. “You’re okay. You’re fine. Just sleep.”
“It’s not okay.” Kousei whimpered. “I’m scared. You’re going to leave me.”
“No, I’m not.” Kaori said. “I’m right here, see?”
She took her free hand — the one that wasn’t brushing through his hair — to intertwine with his own hand. Kousei jumped at the contact.
“I’m right here.” Kaori repeated. “I’ll be here when you wake up, too.”
“But what about next week?” Kousei asked, his voice cracking. “Next month? Next year?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Kaori said, squeezing Kousei’s hand. “I’m here now. And I’ll be here the whole time, until you wake up. I won’t leave you alone — I promise.”
Kousei let out a strangled sob then, clinging to her pink jacket. Kaori made no movements to push him away, and returned to her humming. Perhaps to drown out the noise of his sobbing. Perhaps to comfort him. Kousei didn’t know.
Kaori must have looped through the piece at least three times before Kousei’s sobs began to die down. He didn’t know. He wasn’t counting. He closed his eyes then, focusing on Kaori’s steady breathing.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
He did his best to imitate. It only made the fatigue behind his eyes scream even louder, begging Kousei to finally give in and sleep. Though he tried to fight it, he could feel his eyes drooping closed, without his control.
“There you go,” he heard Kaori say, her voice sounding so distant, even though she was so close. “Just like that. Don’t be afraid. I’m right here.”
Right before Kousei faded, he felt something soft brush against his forehead, then.
Surely, he must have imagined it.