(AN: Inspired by the latest 'wake up!' sketch in vol. 14 of Fruits Basket. I haven't READ volume 14 yet, but this sketch was just gorgeous to me. Go look at it at, then come back. Oh, and put on 'My Immortal' by Evanescence. Grazie.)
Summer – by Chiharu
It's a perfect summer night. Warm, nice. I like summer. It's a good season. I can see the stars through the open window, clear little dots of twinkling light against the black sky. It's too soon for the moon to be visible on this side of the house, but I know from last night that it's full.
I'm sitting on the futon in the dark, legs crossed. Akito is next to me, his arm touching my knee, already asleep. He goes to bed early in the summer. He says the heat makes him tired. I know that it makes him sick, too, but we don't usually talk about that. I've tucked a blanket over him to protect him from the breeze, and despite it being warm he's snuggled into it like a little kid. Funny, he looks so sweet when he's unconscious. You'd never guess.
He hasn't had a Good Day. You can hear the capital letters, can't you? Just like when a normal person says Wednesday. It's probably not normal to divide time into Good Days and Bad Days, but believe me, that's all that matters. When you wake up, everyone else in the world thinks things like "What's for breakfast?" or "Is my grandma coming over?" or "Time for school." At the Honke, I think one thing, and one thing only: "Please, God, let it be a Good Day."
Today was a Bad Day.
About two hours ago, I gave him one of those sleeping pills Hatori's always telling him not to take. Our good family doctor won't prescribe them, so I have to go to a pharmacist Akito pays off. I get other things from the pharmacist, too, things I have to be very careful about bringing home. I always wonder what Hatori thinks about this, since I don't believe even for a second Akito's fooling him, but the dragon's never mentioned it. Maybe he doesn't care. Lets the poor man have what little comfort he can, I guess.
I shift my leg, and the steel tray in front of me gleams briefly as I jostle it with my foot. My hand darts out, barely keeping the syringe on it from rattling. It's an automatic reaction, because Akito won't wake up no matter what I do, but it's hard to break a lifetime's worth of training. Where Akito's involved, silence is instinctual. You don't want to annoy someone who can hurt you.
I carefully pick up the syringe, pierce the seal on one of the vials I'd prepared earlier in the afternoon, and fill the barrel. I'd made two while Akito watched and told me I was doing it wrong, and that I should get things ready for Yuki's visit the next day so that I could pretend to be useful. Then he said we should practice.
My free hand goes to my mouth as the memory slides over me like thick syrup, and I close my eyes. When Akito's drugged, he does things to me. Calls me Yuki...
Someone knocks at the door, and I jump guiltily. I put the syringe down to glance at my watch. It's only eleven. One last check by Hatori, maybe? I push the blanket off my legs and stand up, letting the cloth fall over the tray and hide its contents. A fold falls onto Akito's face, but he doesn't react. I pull it off, smooth his mussed hair back, and go to the door.
It's Shigure. He's got a book and a bottle of water. "Kureno. Is Akito awake?" He tries to look over my shoulder, but I don't move out of the doorway.
"No. I'm sorry."
"Ah, it's not important. I was going to offer to take him off your hands for a while, give you a break, but if he's already asleep..." He shrugs, giving me a smile. "D'you wanna go out for a while? Maybe take a walk? I bet we can get Haa-san to come with us. If anyone needs to get drunk, it's you two."
"That's okay," I answer, uncomfortable. Shigure never asks me out anywhere. It's weird he's inviting me now, and I'm a little nervous.
His smile dies, and his eyes flick from the dark room to mine, eyebrows raised in silent question. This I understand. He wants to know if I'm okay, if Akito's okay, but he doesn't dare ask out loud. It's just not done. It's like if you don't actually say what's going on, then it isn't really going on. We can all pretend everything's fine.
I give him a tiny shrug and a half-smile, the universal signs for "It's not great, but what can you do?"
He nods back, sympathetic. "Tomorrow, then. I'll be back around ten?"
"I'll expect you. See you tomorrow." I start to close the door, but he suddenly grabs my arm and pulls me out into the hallway.
"Shigure – !"
He talks over me, saying in a louder voice, "Wait, you just have to see my new book. Just for a minute."
I stare at him with wide eyes as he pushes me against the wall, not sure if he's crazy, but he holds his book up as if he's showing it to me and whispers, "I'm serious. Are you sure you're okay? Let me stay with him tonight. I'll tell him you're sick. It'll be fine."
I'm touched, and worried. Am I that transparent? I don't know what to say. A night without Akito? It's... unthinkable. We've been together for what seems like forever. "I..."
In a flash, the future I lost stretches out before me in one long, glorious road. I could do it. I could let Shigure have Akito. I could run away, leave the Honke, leave Akito, never look back. I could get my life back. I could find Uotani-san...
And while I'm wishing, I want a billion dollars and a pony.
"..no, I'm fine. Thank you." My heart slows, and the perpetual weariness creeps back in. I give him a weak smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He frowns, and for a second I'm afraid he does see right through me. Shigure is clever. Very clever. He has his own agenda concerning Akito, and in this one instant I wonder if he's figured out that I'm going to ruin his plan. He holds my arm a second longer than necessary, then reluctantly lets go, stepping back. He's still unhappy, but I'm relieved. He doesn't know after all, because if he knew, he'd stop me. "All right. Oyasumi."
"Oyasumi." I wait until he starts to walk off before I step back into the warm darkness of the room and shut the door. The familiar smell of Akito wafts over me in a reassuring wave, and I can't think about anything but him.
I'm on all fours, but I don't remember how I got there. The futon is soft under my knees, and suddenly loneliness reaches out, swallowing me whole. Akito's sleeping form blurs from the tears that suddenly fill my eyes, and I crawl closer to him, laying on my side and kissing his forehead. I press my cheek to his soft black hair, gather his slender form into my arms. He makes a drowsy protest, and I automatically whisper soothing nonsense, my face damp. I'm crying, and I don't know why.
"Yuki...?"
I lied. I do know. I cry because I love Akito.
And Akito loves Yuki.
"Yes," I answer. I'm a liar as well as a coward. The tears dry on my face, leaving my skin tight. With one hand I reach down and back, holding Akito carefully, until I find the syringe, wrong way first. It jabs my finger, stinging, and I have to lock my jaw to keep quiet. The hurt surprises me, but once I feel it, I relish the pain. It tells me I've already started paying for what I'm about to do, and that gives me hope. It makes me think that maybe one day I'll be forgiven.
I turn the thing around in my hand and hold it up to the starlight. It's full. One hundred and fifty milligrams, so much that it didn't dissolve properly. More than we've ever done before. Too much. It's milky, so I shake it a little. Good enough.
I lower him onto the futon so I can do things properly, making sure the blanket still covers most of him. I don't want him to be cold. I hold the syringe by two fingers and use the rest to uncurl Akito's arm from where he's tucked it under his chin. His eyelids flutter and try to open, but the sleeping drug is too strong. He stays limp, like a doll.
His arm is a thin line in the dim light, white and fragile. It's covered in little circular scars like bulls-eyes, pale tracks giving mute testimony to a lifetime of injections and IVs. They must have hurt when Hatori gave them to him. When I gave them to him. My own arm aches in sympathy, and I lower my head to gently kiss the bend of his elbow before I bring the needle around and slide it into his flesh. I have a little room to pull the plunger back, get that brief flash of red, and then I depress the plastic, emptying the entire thing into his body.
He doesn't move. I slide the needle out and reach for the last vial, but it's not on the tray anymore. I must've bumped it when I picked Akito up. It takes so long to find that I almost panic. It's under his leg, wrapped in a bit of the blanket, and my hand's shaking by the time I locate it. I prick myself with the needle twice before I get it through that rubber stopper. The tears have started again, and it's a huge relief to refill the syringe, to bring it to my own arm. The morphine slides just as easily into my veins as it did into Akito's, leaving a bit of a powdery residue in the syringe. I drop the thing onto the tatami mat as the first fingers of the familiar lethargy slide over me.
I lower myself to the futon, only a foot from the floor, but it feels like I'm falling in slow motion. I put a hand over Akito and draw him close, and let the sinking feeling wash through me. Everything is heavy, ponderous. I want to shut my eyes, but I'm not sleepy. I can see Akito through my half- open lids, can hear him breathing. His lips are parted, his dark lashes like soot on his porcelain cheeks. God, he really is beautiful... So darkly beautiful...
"I love you," I whisper, and I'm happy. I've waited so long to say that, to tell him. I laugh, then realize I'm crying again. My chest hurts.
The night seems colder, and I pull the blanket tightly around us before I close my eyes and bury my face in his hair, inhaling his scent. He smells so good. My arm rests on his body, moving with each breath, and gradually I begin to feel dizzy. The inside of my head is dark and swirling, and the thick blackness pulls me farther into myself, but it's okay. I'm with him.
Akito's side goes down, then up... down... up... I let it lull me into a sort of trance, and I match my breathing to his for a long time, until it stops.
It must be close to midnight. I'm too cold now. Something gives out inside me, and despite the morphine, it hurts. I think I'm...
... oh.
Summer – by Chiharu
It's a perfect summer night. Warm, nice. I like summer. It's a good season. I can see the stars through the open window, clear little dots of twinkling light against the black sky. It's too soon for the moon to be visible on this side of the house, but I know from last night that it's full.
I'm sitting on the futon in the dark, legs crossed. Akito is next to me, his arm touching my knee, already asleep. He goes to bed early in the summer. He says the heat makes him tired. I know that it makes him sick, too, but we don't usually talk about that. I've tucked a blanket over him to protect him from the breeze, and despite it being warm he's snuggled into it like a little kid. Funny, he looks so sweet when he's unconscious. You'd never guess.
He hasn't had a Good Day. You can hear the capital letters, can't you? Just like when a normal person says Wednesday. It's probably not normal to divide time into Good Days and Bad Days, but believe me, that's all that matters. When you wake up, everyone else in the world thinks things like "What's for breakfast?" or "Is my grandma coming over?" or "Time for school." At the Honke, I think one thing, and one thing only: "Please, God, let it be a Good Day."
Today was a Bad Day.
About two hours ago, I gave him one of those sleeping pills Hatori's always telling him not to take. Our good family doctor won't prescribe them, so I have to go to a pharmacist Akito pays off. I get other things from the pharmacist, too, things I have to be very careful about bringing home. I always wonder what Hatori thinks about this, since I don't believe even for a second Akito's fooling him, but the dragon's never mentioned it. Maybe he doesn't care. Lets the poor man have what little comfort he can, I guess.
I shift my leg, and the steel tray in front of me gleams briefly as I jostle it with my foot. My hand darts out, barely keeping the syringe on it from rattling. It's an automatic reaction, because Akito won't wake up no matter what I do, but it's hard to break a lifetime's worth of training. Where Akito's involved, silence is instinctual. You don't want to annoy someone who can hurt you.
I carefully pick up the syringe, pierce the seal on one of the vials I'd prepared earlier in the afternoon, and fill the barrel. I'd made two while Akito watched and told me I was doing it wrong, and that I should get things ready for Yuki's visit the next day so that I could pretend to be useful. Then he said we should practice.
My free hand goes to my mouth as the memory slides over me like thick syrup, and I close my eyes. When Akito's drugged, he does things to me. Calls me Yuki...
Someone knocks at the door, and I jump guiltily. I put the syringe down to glance at my watch. It's only eleven. One last check by Hatori, maybe? I push the blanket off my legs and stand up, letting the cloth fall over the tray and hide its contents. A fold falls onto Akito's face, but he doesn't react. I pull it off, smooth his mussed hair back, and go to the door.
It's Shigure. He's got a book and a bottle of water. "Kureno. Is Akito awake?" He tries to look over my shoulder, but I don't move out of the doorway.
"No. I'm sorry."
"Ah, it's not important. I was going to offer to take him off your hands for a while, give you a break, but if he's already asleep..." He shrugs, giving me a smile. "D'you wanna go out for a while? Maybe take a walk? I bet we can get Haa-san to come with us. If anyone needs to get drunk, it's you two."
"That's okay," I answer, uncomfortable. Shigure never asks me out anywhere. It's weird he's inviting me now, and I'm a little nervous.
His smile dies, and his eyes flick from the dark room to mine, eyebrows raised in silent question. This I understand. He wants to know if I'm okay, if Akito's okay, but he doesn't dare ask out loud. It's just not done. It's like if you don't actually say what's going on, then it isn't really going on. We can all pretend everything's fine.
I give him a tiny shrug and a half-smile, the universal signs for "It's not great, but what can you do?"
He nods back, sympathetic. "Tomorrow, then. I'll be back around ten?"
"I'll expect you. See you tomorrow." I start to close the door, but he suddenly grabs my arm and pulls me out into the hallway.
"Shigure – !"
He talks over me, saying in a louder voice, "Wait, you just have to see my new book. Just for a minute."
I stare at him with wide eyes as he pushes me against the wall, not sure if he's crazy, but he holds his book up as if he's showing it to me and whispers, "I'm serious. Are you sure you're okay? Let me stay with him tonight. I'll tell him you're sick. It'll be fine."
I'm touched, and worried. Am I that transparent? I don't know what to say. A night without Akito? It's... unthinkable. We've been together for what seems like forever. "I..."
In a flash, the future I lost stretches out before me in one long, glorious road. I could do it. I could let Shigure have Akito. I could run away, leave the Honke, leave Akito, never look back. I could get my life back. I could find Uotani-san...
And while I'm wishing, I want a billion dollars and a pony.
"..no, I'm fine. Thank you." My heart slows, and the perpetual weariness creeps back in. I give him a weak smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He frowns, and for a second I'm afraid he does see right through me. Shigure is clever. Very clever. He has his own agenda concerning Akito, and in this one instant I wonder if he's figured out that I'm going to ruin his plan. He holds my arm a second longer than necessary, then reluctantly lets go, stepping back. He's still unhappy, but I'm relieved. He doesn't know after all, because if he knew, he'd stop me. "All right. Oyasumi."
"Oyasumi." I wait until he starts to walk off before I step back into the warm darkness of the room and shut the door. The familiar smell of Akito wafts over me in a reassuring wave, and I can't think about anything but him.
I'm on all fours, but I don't remember how I got there. The futon is soft under my knees, and suddenly loneliness reaches out, swallowing me whole. Akito's sleeping form blurs from the tears that suddenly fill my eyes, and I crawl closer to him, laying on my side and kissing his forehead. I press my cheek to his soft black hair, gather his slender form into my arms. He makes a drowsy protest, and I automatically whisper soothing nonsense, my face damp. I'm crying, and I don't know why.
"Yuki...?"
I lied. I do know. I cry because I love Akito.
And Akito loves Yuki.
"Yes," I answer. I'm a liar as well as a coward. The tears dry on my face, leaving my skin tight. With one hand I reach down and back, holding Akito carefully, until I find the syringe, wrong way first. It jabs my finger, stinging, and I have to lock my jaw to keep quiet. The hurt surprises me, but once I feel it, I relish the pain. It tells me I've already started paying for what I'm about to do, and that gives me hope. It makes me think that maybe one day I'll be forgiven.
I turn the thing around in my hand and hold it up to the starlight. It's full. One hundred and fifty milligrams, so much that it didn't dissolve properly. More than we've ever done before. Too much. It's milky, so I shake it a little. Good enough.
I lower him onto the futon so I can do things properly, making sure the blanket still covers most of him. I don't want him to be cold. I hold the syringe by two fingers and use the rest to uncurl Akito's arm from where he's tucked it under his chin. His eyelids flutter and try to open, but the sleeping drug is too strong. He stays limp, like a doll.
His arm is a thin line in the dim light, white and fragile. It's covered in little circular scars like bulls-eyes, pale tracks giving mute testimony to a lifetime of injections and IVs. They must have hurt when Hatori gave them to him. When I gave them to him. My own arm aches in sympathy, and I lower my head to gently kiss the bend of his elbow before I bring the needle around and slide it into his flesh. I have a little room to pull the plunger back, get that brief flash of red, and then I depress the plastic, emptying the entire thing into his body.
He doesn't move. I slide the needle out and reach for the last vial, but it's not on the tray anymore. I must've bumped it when I picked Akito up. It takes so long to find that I almost panic. It's under his leg, wrapped in a bit of the blanket, and my hand's shaking by the time I locate it. I prick myself with the needle twice before I get it through that rubber stopper. The tears have started again, and it's a huge relief to refill the syringe, to bring it to my own arm. The morphine slides just as easily into my veins as it did into Akito's, leaving a bit of a powdery residue in the syringe. I drop the thing onto the tatami mat as the first fingers of the familiar lethargy slide over me.
I lower myself to the futon, only a foot from the floor, but it feels like I'm falling in slow motion. I put a hand over Akito and draw him close, and let the sinking feeling wash through me. Everything is heavy, ponderous. I want to shut my eyes, but I'm not sleepy. I can see Akito through my half- open lids, can hear him breathing. His lips are parted, his dark lashes like soot on his porcelain cheeks. God, he really is beautiful... So darkly beautiful...
"I love you," I whisper, and I'm happy. I've waited so long to say that, to tell him. I laugh, then realize I'm crying again. My chest hurts.
The night seems colder, and I pull the blanket tightly around us before I close my eyes and bury my face in his hair, inhaling his scent. He smells so good. My arm rests on his body, moving with each breath, and gradually I begin to feel dizzy. The inside of my head is dark and swirling, and the thick blackness pulls me farther into myself, but it's okay. I'm with him.
Akito's side goes down, then up... down... up... I let it lull me into a sort of trance, and I match my breathing to his for a long time, until it stops.
It must be close to midnight. I'm too cold now. Something gives out inside me, and despite the morphine, it hurts. I think I'm...
... oh.