If I Had You Here.
If
I had you here, I'd clip your wings
Snap you up and leave you
sprawling on my pin
This plan of mine is oh so very lame
Can't
you see the grass is greener where it rains.
"Eve, the apple
of my eye" Bell X1
The nurses smile at her and great her with familiarity. Yuiko laughs with them and gives them the extra cookies she made for them, and she nods happily when they tell her that Ritsuka-kun is outside today.
That's good, she thinks. During Ritsuka-kun's worse days he doesn't move from bed at all, never mind how much she tries to talk to him. When Ritsuka-kun agrees to go outside or is already outside, it's easier for Yuiko to hope that her friend perhaps will come back.
"Ritsuka-kun!" She calls out loud. Most of the other patients ignore her. Ritsuka, sitting on the grass by a patch of flowers, turns to look towards her a moment and smiles, but then he looks back towards the flowers.
Yuiko walks in silence towards Ritsuka and part of her still misses his ears despite all the years that Ritsuka-kun has been without them. She looks towards the flowers, trying to guess what could've brought Ritsuka's sudden interest on them and her breath catches.
A pair of blue and black butterfly rest over the flowers and when she glances at Ritsuka, he seems enthralled. She blinks quickly, trying not to break down and cry. She'll cry once the visit is over, not before, not now that Ritsuka-kun seems so happy.
"Oh, they're so beautiful, Ritsuka-kun" Yuiko murmurs instead, placing the basket in front of her. Ritsuka doesn't turn to look at her, still looking at the butterflies as if they held all the answers of life. Yuiko is long used to this silence. It still hurts.
Instead, she takes out the cake she brought and she feeds small bites to Ritsuka, even as she talks about her week. Ritsuka opens his mouth when she asks, but when the butterflies fly away, he stops eating.
Yuiko wishes that Kio-san had come with her. He usually does, but he had to work for his exposition. It's easier when she isn't alone. With two people, it's easier to pretend they hear Ritsuka-kun's answers.
"Kio-san says that he'll come to see you next week, too," she tells Ritsuka, smiling. Ritsuka looks at her for a moment, blue eyes vague and almost not there and he looks back to the butterfly-less flowers.
She wishes that Soubi-san was there. Ritsuka-kun misses him so much; surely if Soubi-san hadn't disappeared, Ritsuka-kun would be alright. Surely if Soubi-san came back, Ritsuka's eyes would be violet again and he'd speak again.
Yuiko wishes she'd know what had happened to Ritsuka-kun and Soubi-san. She just knows that when Kio-san came back with Ritsuka, Ritsuka was earless and unconscious, and he remained unconscious for days afterwards, his fever high.
When he woke up, he screamed and fought and trashed, calling for Soubi and for his brother. Sometimes, Yuiko still has nightmares of that, of Ritsuka-kun's face twisted in fear and pain and betrayal, with tears rolling down his face.
Then, he suddenly stopped, eyes very blue and absent, his sudden silence scary. She's not sure what happened. Katsuko-sensei said something about post-stress disorder, said that it'd be better with time.
It's been five years since Yuiko last heard Ritsuka-kun talk. They've searched for Soubi-san but there's no trace left, almost as if he wasn't real, a ghost that walked, taking nothing but the spirit of a young boy and who left nothing in return but the memories of butterflies and flowers that now are the only thing that seem to cause some reaction in Ritsuka-kun, who is now nothing but a butterfly pinned to a wall, wingless.
Yuiko wipes her eyes when she feels them tearing again and she hugs Ritsuka tightly. Yuiko forces her voice to sound happy when one of Ritsuka's hands, absently, pats her arm.
"Ritsuka-kun, when you get better, we should go to the sea. I'll tell Kio-san and Yayoi-san. Won't that be fun?"
Ritsuka doesn't answer. Yuiko sniffs and looks towards the flowers. The butterflies have come back. Ritsuka is smiling again.
