Yes I wrote a fic based on that really bad One Direction "imagine your OC" prompt. Sue me ok.
The plastic waiting room chair hurt, but it was what Shotaro preferred to focus on right now. That physical pain—more of an annoyance, really—was preferrable to the fear of what was about to happen.
Congenital heart failure, the doctors had told him. He needed a transplant, but the list of donors was short. And the list of recipients was long, but the Narumi Detective Agency had helped this hospital out of a pinch a while back, so Shotaro was owed a favor.
He tried not to think of how many other potential patients this heart could help. Philip had tried to rationalize it to him, saying that the possibility that this particular donor heart would match any other patient wasn't that strong, anyway. Philip's calculations were usually correct, in a strict mathematical sense. So that helped.
Philip's hand wrapped around his shoulder helped, too. If he hadn't had his partner here with him in this waiting room, Shotaro didn't know what he would do.
"Hidari," the nurse called. Shotaro jumped. "Shotaro Hidari. Please follow me."
Shotaro got to his feet. Philip stood up and followed after him, hand in hand.
They were led into the operating room. The nurse handed Shotaro a skimpy hospital gown to change into and turned away.
"Hey, hey, you can watch," Shotaro joked as he stripped.
"Everybody says that, Mr. Hidari," the nurse replied lightly.
Shotaro withered. Philip laughed.
In silence he finished changing and laid down on the operating bed. Interminable minutes passed, but neither he nor Philip broke the silence. He just laid there, Philip sitting beside him, their fingers intertwined. They didn't need words.
Finally the surgeons walked in, followed by the anesthesiologist. After taking a moment to confirm his condition and the nature of his surgery—a detail he very much appreciated, as he didn't want to wake up missing a kidney or something—his arm was strapped down so a needle could be inserted.
"Aw, man..." Shotaro grimaced. But it didn't really hurt as much as he'd thought it would. Philip squeezed his other hand.
"Now just relax," said the nurse, and
then he woke up.
It felt as though no time had passed. But his gown was open in the front and he could see the stitches in his chest, clear as day. A different nurse was standing by his bed. Philip was nowhere to be seen. Undoubtedly they'd shooed him out of the room once Shotaro had gone under.
"...how'd it go?" Shotaro asked warily.
"The operation was a success," the new nurse said with a smile. "You'll need to stay in bed for a while to let yourself heal, but it looks like everything will be fine. There were no complications."
Shotaro grinned weakly. None of the myriad nightmare scenarios he'd envisioned had come to pass. "Great. So when do I get visitors? Let Philip come in here already."
"Philip?"
"Yeah, my partner. The guy who was sitting here with me before I got knocked out."
The nurse glanced down at her clipboard. She flipped through some papers on it. "Philip... W-wait, nobody told you?"
Shotaro's forehead scrunched up. "Told what?"
"The name of the donor of your heart. I thought it was odd; he was clearly Japanese, but his name was... Philip."
It felt like Shotaro's new heart just up and stopped working then and there. The blood in his veins turned to ice.
"That's impossible!" He forced himself up and out of bed. But in his weakened state, he was easily pushed back down by the nurse. "That's bullshit! Where's Philip, where's my partner?! Quit screwing with me!"
The nurse slapped at the call button on Shotaro's bedside table, which gave him the moment's respite he needed to break free of her grip. But he hadn't even reached the door before two more nurses, both of them taller and male, barged in.
Shotaro struggled and shouted, but it was no use. He found himself strapped to his bed, his restraints immune to his weakened thrashing.
One of the nurses readied a needle, and then he was out like a light again.
This time, time passed.
He slept.
He woke knowing he had slept, and Philip wasn't there. He stared up at the ceiling for a good two days, not eating, not speaking.
He slept some more. He dreamt, and in his dreams Philip hadn't sacrificed himself to save his life.
He was almost sure that when he woke he would see Philip's face smiling down at him—as impossible as it was.
His eyes fluttered open and there, standing above him, was Philip. Shotaro blinked. He tried to lift a hand, to touch him and see if he was real, but he was still strapped down.
"...Philip?" he croaked out.
Philip nodded. He brushed Shotaro's hair out of his face.
"I'm dreaming," Shotaro deduced.
Philip shook his head. "No, you're awake. It seems the surgery was a success."
"But they said—you were—"
"I was what?" Philip's brow furrowed in confusion.
A nurse walked in to check on Shotaro. When she caught sight of Philip she shrieked and dropped her clipboard. "Y-you— you're the donor!"
Philip looked over at her. He nodded. "Yes, is something wrong?"
"Wait, what is going on here?" Shotaro demanded. He tugged uselessly at his restraints. "You're supposed to be dead!"
"Oh, that?" Philip looked back down at Shotaro with a condescending lift of one eyebrow. "Shotaro, have you forgotten about the Xtreme Memory?"
"What are you..."
Clearly oblivious to any rules against such an action, Philip undid Shotaro's restraints as he explained. "I did donate my heart to you. Once it was removed from my body, Xtreme digitized me so that I would survive. It took about a day to repair the damage, but—"
Once he was able, Shotaro grabbed Philip in a tight hug. "You dumbass, why didn't you say anything?!"
"Because I knew you would panic! I didn't expect that you would wake up so soon after the surgery." Philip sounded annoyed. But when he pulled back and saw the tears staining Shotaro's face, he softened. "I didn't realize you'd..."
Shotaro punched Philip in the face.
