Heart
buttercupbella
Swinging his feet clad in black rubber shoes, Kaname gazed at the wide, green football field illuminated by streetlights and twinkling stars. The field was empty and there was no game. No one minded Kaname, though, partly because no one was there, mostly because he meant no harm. As the cold breeze swept through the bleachers, he could only swing his feet, to and fro, up and down, because if he ever dared to run, it would be the end of him.
When crickets began to whir, Kaname managed to stand up weakly and brisk walk, his footsteps against the pavement and his shallow breaths the only noises of life in a deserted space. The darkness towards the dormitory was quite overwhelming, but nevertheless, Kaname eased his way out of it with occasional wheezing.
Never mind that he was alone, it could be harder for him to let go of this life if he even had existent friends.
A few coughs passed before Kaname's trembling hands could turn the doorknob of his bedroom. Gasps and heaves ravaged his lungs and his knees crashed tiredly; the sole bottle of pills toppled onto the wooden floor and rolled just within Kaname's reach.
After he had swallowed a round tablet, Kaname stared across the room, eyes becoming blurry. Why couldn't the pain just end?
Why couldn't he just die?
He knew that it was a terrible thought, but for someone who had undergone more agony than anyone could have in a lifetime, it sounded less morbid than it was. But Kaname also knew that there was something keeping him here, something that forced him to open his eyes even when he has to leave. Or maybe it was someone.
Mikan Sakura.
Kaname didn't know if their ages even mattered. He didn't know if he should be bothered by their gap or if she only came to his mind because she was like the little sister he never had. Either way, Kaname knew, even as a dying boy, that he loved Mikan.
She didn't have to make tea to make him feel warm. She didn't have to rub his hands in hers or check his temperature to know that he's okay. All she had to do was smile, and for every painful breath that Kaname took, it was worth it.
Kaname's grip on the bottle loosened a bit as he began to cry. Not the loud, messy type—he was sobbing quietly, trying to tell himself that it was going to be all right. Something about the way Mikan said "You still have to live" drained him of all strength to hold back the tears he wanted to let go on that one winter night in the hospital.
Their beds were separated by a dark green curtain, and they both liked to watch the old cartoons on television. Sometimes Kaname would tell Mikan how he fainted in the middle of a swimming competition and nearly drowned, and Mikan would just laugh and mutter, "You're still alive".
Right now, he felt like he was no different from being dead—
Maybe because she wasn't alive, either.
Kaname wanted the both of them to ride rollercoasters or go to college or be friends, no matter how young Mikan seemed. But he could only choke on the bitter tablet, wondering why on Earth he could not move on to the next life when she was already gone.
You still have to live.
"For what, Mikan?" Kaname wanted to ask, only to be greeted by lifeless silence. On that winter night, as Kaname struggled to breathe and clutch at his heart, Mikan tiptoed to the doctor and whispered something that could make Kaname live longer.
But Kaname didn't wish to live any longer, especially when the days after the operation were sullen and devoid of the girl who always told him that he still had the hopes of waking up to graduation and marriage and happiness.
He didn't want to remember now, because he would just be shattered all over again by the promise that he would fight this disease. A part of Kaname, however, didn't want to give up because a certain pig-tailed girl had asked the doctor for a heart transplant even when she would be getting out of the hospital soon.
In the coldness of the evening, Kaname crawled to his bed, placed the bottle of pills on his drawer, and listened to the steady heartbeats in his chest, wishing that whatever he heard inside of him wasn't coming from something that had never been his all along.
|Author's Note| So this is extremely short and made without the presence of mind - I don't even think it makes sense, haha. Just a little something to kick the New Year off and to exercise my fingers. Happy Holidays 8D Concrits, anyone?