Work Text:
Someone has to help.
The entire last week had been a complete blur. There had been a lot of going in and out of darkened rooms and speaking in low, hushed tones to people with faces he barely recognized. A lot of people hugging him and Aunt Cass and murmuring to them about what a tragedy it all was, how sorry they were for their loss. Some of them had tears in their eyes, some just looked terribly sad. But they were all so, so sorry, and every time they said it, Hiro could only think of one thing: “Sorry” didn't bring Tadashi back.
There had been a lot to do to prep for the funeral. Going to the funeral home and talking details with some old bony dude in a suit that smelled like stale dust, listening to the various options for the viewing... Except there wasn't going to be a viewing, apparently. Tadashi had been too badly burnt, there was no way the people at the morgue would be able to make him "presentable" with the time and the budget that they had, so they'd been advised not to have an open casket funeral. As if Hiro hadn't been in a bad enough state as it was, he had to hear that, and it made him sick to his stomach. Aunt Cass had just tightened her hold on Hiro's hand and managed a stiff nod, her lips pressed into a tight line. That's what she did when she couldn't trust herself to say something. It was something Hiro saw her do a lot while talking to people these days.
Hiro opted not to even try talking. He felt like maybe he was supposed to say something at the funeral, give some speech to tell everyone all about his brother and what a great person he was and how he'd be missed. A lot of other people were doing it. Tadashi's friends from school all did it, even though Honey Lemon was crying so much she barely managed to finish it. But Hiro hadn't been able to do it. There weren't words strong enough to describe the kind of hole Tadashi's death was leaving behind in himself and in Aunt Cass. And even if there were, these strangers wouldn't – couldn't – understand how much it all hurt.
Aunt Cass stayed with him through the entire service. She kept one arm around his shoulders and the other hand clutching his, and that little bit of contact was the only thing Hiro could focus on through the whole thing. She was all he had now. Tadashi was... gone. Not just dead, but gone. It left Hiro feeling hollow and lost. And as the funeral continued, the ache in his chest only worsened. He just needed to get through this day. And maybe when he did, after he'd crawled into bed and curled up in the sheets and fallen asleep, he'd wake up and find that the whole thing was a dream. That it was the morning of the showcase and Tadashi was right there, alive and well, calling him a bonehead for falling asleep in the garage for the millionth time, that it was time to get something to eat, take a break, do something that didn't involve microbots.
Several times, Hiro tried squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself to wake up from this nightmare. It never worked.
The worst part was watching Tadashi's coffin getting lowered into the ground. A whole bunch of people standing around this giant hole in the ground, putting flowers on the coffin, crying into their hands, dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs while the sky went dark around them. People were putting up their umbrellas over their heads, tucking the people around them underneath its protection while everything just continued. Someone must've shared their umbrella with Hiro and Aunt Cass, since he was dimly aware of the fact that the water had stopped hitting his face.
Eventually, the grave was filled. People started to dissipate, heading to their cars to go home or go to the Lucky Cat Cafe for one final bit of memorial. The latter crowd was mostly cafe regulars that had practically watched Tadashi grow up or his friends from school. They would all come over first to give himself and Aunt Cass a hug before leaving, some saying that they would see them at their house, and then headed on their way. They all went, one by one, group by group, bidding their final farewells to Tadashi as they did so... Until it was just Hiro and Aunt Cass, her hand still on his shoulder, his fingers still clenched tight around hers, standing in the rain staring at the tombstone at the head of the fresh grave.
They probably stayed there for an extra half hour before Aunt Cass finally sniffled loudly, bit her lip, and very gently coaxed Hiro into coming with her as they left.
The car ride home was cold and quiet. He'd found himself staring at Aunt Cass's dashboard, with the same old radio that had come with the old truck. He remembered hazily that Tadashi had once promised to spruce the whole thing up, give it all the fancy trimmings in true Hamada style. And then he realized that he wouldn't be able to fulfill that promise now. His teeth dug into his lower lip as he started to think about other promises, other dreams that would never happen now. Family road trips across the country. Visiting the space museum in Washington. Building a working flying car together. Helping Hiro get a driver's license on his 16th birthday.
Attending classes at SFIT together. Getting a robotic nurse into every hospital and home in America.
Hiro couldn't remember how they'd managed to get back to the cafe. But when they got there it was just as cold and dark as it had been outside. Aunt Cass helped Hiro remove his soaked suit jacket once they were inside, and she headed up to the living room ahead of him to put it away.
"You don't have to stay in the living room, sweetie," she'd told him before they even got inside. "You know that, right?"
And now that they were inside, and Hiro had managed to pull himself up that first flight of stairs and got a look around, he decided he would go ahead and hide up in his room. There were too many people there already, and Tadashi's friends had already gathered around Aunt Cass, and everyone was talking in low, hushed, somber tones. Hiro didn't like it. His teeth dug into his lip again and he turned away, quietly making his way up the stairs to their room.
No. No, not "their" room anymore. Hiro's room. Just Hiro's.
That realization made him freeze at the top of the staircase, and he quite suddenly found himself sinking down to sit on the top step. It felt... wrong. Everything felt wrong. This wasn't supposed to be happening. They should've spent the last week celebrating. They were supposed to eat hot wings every night until they were sick, and talk about what classes to take and who the best teachers were and what kind of homework Hiro might be getting in his freshman year at college. That was how this was supposed to end. Go to college, learn from the Robert Callaghan, become a world famous roboticist, and celebrate it all with his aunt and his big brother.
Callaghan's still in there. Someone has to help.
He squeezed his eyes shut again, cradled his head in his hands, and tried once again to wake himself up. He tried to wish away the soft murmurs he could hear from downstairs, tried to pretend that it was the sound of Tadashi laughing with his friends about some stupid thing that Fred just did. It still didn't work.
A slow exhale left him, his shoulders sagging. Tadashi was gone. That was it. There was nothing else to that week, that day, that moment except for the fact that Tadashi was gone and never coming back.
He finally pulled himself up off the floor, with an effort that already seemed like too much, then made his way to his bed. As he flopped down onto it face first, all he could think about was the ache in his chest. And silently, desperately, he prayed for something to happen to him that would take all this hurt away.