Touch Communication
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Rating: T for swearing
Warning: Angst, fictional representation of disability, hints at mature content
Summary: They never thought they had to relearn how to speak again. A language just for two, between the blind and the mute.
If you can keep your head
They hadn't meant for him to hear it, but he did.
"No chance? No chance of recovery- whatsoever?" A voice he dimly recognized as Shinichi's mother sounded like she was on the verge of tears, but he was too distracted to pay much attention. "How can this be? Now that everything is finally over…"
Kaito touched the dead skin of his empty eye sockets, scraping lightly with a finger tip over the dryness. Never again, he repeated to himself as if he was stamping out weeds in a garden. No hope whatsoever, none-
He slumped against his pillows and let out a sound- he wasn't quite sure himself if it was a hysterical laugh or a sob. He swallowed painfully, like he was eating glass shards. He scoured his teeth with his tongue roughly, distantly surprised at the lack of blood. The bitter taste of bile stayed pungent on his tongue. They had just taken out the Black Organisation. They had the rest of their lives ahead of them. They had planned out the rest of their lives- innocently, naively, hopefully. Now this happened and-
A faint thump sounded on his left and he felt his bed sink in slightly. Alarm flared in him, his nerves shrieking. He hadn't heard any telltale signs of the door opening. It's the Black Organisation, what's left of it, finishing off what's left of us-
Arms circled around his torso as a slim body was flung into his lap. He stiffened, but the heft, the touch, the little habits, like that grabby attachment to his sleeve- even the consistent downwards pull was so very familiar- he remembered a snort and sew it back on if it falls off, you twit, but paranoia seized him –they could be faking it, spying on you and Shinichi, whispered the voice insidiously- and stayed unresponsive.
The body straightened up, shifting clumsily in Kaito's lap. Kaito automatically put a hand on where he thought the lower back was- well, it wouldn't be too amiss if he groped Shinichi- to prevent the figure from tipping over and sliding off. A damp breath exhaled in the junction between his shoulder and neck. Sharp teeth latched onto his earlobe and pulled.
He shouted, slapping a hand over his ear, catching the other person in the back of the head with a smack. "You're definitely Shinichi," he grumbled, settling his hands more comfortably after an awkward fluttery-motioned grope-exploration he made of Shinichi's body. "Why didn't you say something?"
The fingers on his sleeve and back tightened, leaving indents on his skin that was almost painful. He was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the round damp spots Shinichi was making against his shirt- he thought they were just the moisture from Shinichi's breathing, but if they were- His heart seized painfully, his mind suddenly running wild, flashes of possible dreadful scenarios Shinichi could have faced, alone against the Black Organisation, after Kaito had fainted from blood loss and pain. "What did they do to you, darling?" he whispered. An intense, icy terror burnt under his skin, now feeling too tight and thin to fit him. He tried to let go of Shinichi to discreetly wipe his palms on his blankets, but his arms were stiff and unmoving. Lips moved near his jaw line, but they provided no answer, only a repetitive motion against his skin. Kaito, Kaito, Kaito, Kaito… The terror surged in his throat and he felt bile momentarily gather in his mouth again.
He tugged at Shinichi, nudging at him to sit upright. Teeth bit down on his shoulder, lightly leaving reddish indents of displeasure, but compliantly shifted. Kaito raised a trembling hand, touching Shinichi's throat. The adam's apple bobbed, and the muscles moved under the skin, but only an obligatory rasp sounded. Kaito closed his eyes in empty despair- not that that helps anything now- and crushed Shinichi against his body tightly, wishing he could wrap around him, protect him, and tuck him away from the dangers of the world. I'm sorry, so sorry, so sorry- He opened his mouth, to croak out his apologies, to do anything-
Shinichi let out a 'tch' sound, clicking his tongue rapidly. Somehow, he makes it sound disapproving, Kaito thought with hollow amusement. He struggled against Kaito's tight hold, but eventually gave up, lying quietly against Kaito, his breathing slow and soft against his neck. Then he whacked him with a fist.
Kaito whimpered, but clutched Shinichi even more tightly, as if Shinichi was his only lifeline to the guilt and horror swamping him. "Please," he whispered. "Please just- just let me do this, for a while."
Shinichi's struggles subsided, and he nuzzled Kaito's neck. Dry, cracked lips traced motions over Kaito's skin, and he wondered if Shinichi was trying to communicate with him, but bitterly recognizing the motion. Kaito, Kaito, Kaito, Kaito… Was Shinichi trying to comfort him? Take care of him? He smiled, agonized. It was so like him. He blinked his eyes habitually as if to hold back tears, but realizing it wasn't necessary anymore. But then why- He let out such a torn laugh, the motion of it wracking his entire body, that had Shinichi tensing against him. He patted Shinichi soothingly.
It was so ironic that his tormentors had left his tear ducts intact, so he could cry.
{1}
He spent his days recalling his tricks to mind, reworking them, discarding them if he couldn't use them anymore. No more visual cues, he reminded himself, feeling a familiar ache in his chest. He had been feeling it the whole day, as he worked through his daily routines. Simple tasks became so much harder suddenly. Routes that seemed so easy became treacherous paths to navigate. He spun his pen. Paper lay uselessly on the wooden board balanced over his lap. It was more for habit's sake, he told himself. One couldn't quite break away from years of habits in just few days after all. Besides, it helped him think.
He put aside his pen, pushed aside the wooden board, and climbed out of bed slowly. With normal steps, the length of the hospital room is 13 steps long, so from this side, turn right on the fourth step -watch the table, you'll knock over a vase placed on the left side (he snorted, what's the point? He couldn't see it anyway.) if you overstepped-, turning left on the ninth step -lower the speed or it'll hurt if you crash into the side table- and turn back on the eleventh. Shinichi's bed is seven or six normal steps approximately forwards, a large side step, then 2 more normal steps forward. Converting into metric that would be-
A hand laid on his shoulder. The bed sunk in slightly, and a quick beeping sound piqued Kaito before a smooth metallic surface was shoved into his hands. Ah. The crazy professor that Shinichi was close to had created a makeshift system for them to communicate with. Shinichi could punch in his message, the system would automatically convert it to Braille, and the corresponding bumps would pop up on the smooth metal surface. Kaito thought it was alright, but it didn't convey the nuances of Shinichi's tone. He felt a pang and brushed it away. Shinichi didn't need any reminders of how he would never be able to use his voice again.
It was a question mark. Kaito looked up (no, faced upwards, since he wouldn't be able to see anything) and talked in what he hoped was Shinichi's direction. "Ah, I was just thinking I wanted to-" Not see, stupid, when will you remember? "-hold you. But you loved me so much, you came to me!" He stretched his arms wide, plastic smile firmly affixed to his face. "Come here, Shinichi and let me give you a hug-" Warm hands cupped his face, then pulled it painfully, stretching his cheeks. All the clever words tumbled from his mind as he whined, felt along the arms, and flailed at Shinichi.
"Stop that! It hurts! Ouchouchouchouch-"
Shinichi let go. Kaito could almost imagine the scowl on his face. He felt a sharp stab of terror. What if he forgot all about it? All the darling smiles and sulks and nasty frowns and how engrossed Shinichi looked when he was reading his latest mystery book acquisition, how relaxed and peaceful he was when he lay against Kaito, that intense look on his face when he was trying to figure puzzles out, that cat-got-the-cream smirk when he did, that glare that looked like it would cut you to pieces, it was so sharp-
He vaguely felt Shinichi patting at his shoulders futilely, anxious little flutters of hands against his skin. He shook his head and summoned a smile. He instinctively knew it was weak, and not up to the standards of Poker Face that his father taught him.
Shinichi walloped him with the wooden board and sat there unmercifully while Kaito curled up around his knees cringing and whimpering from the pain. He could hear rapid beeping of the machine. "What's with you today, Shinichi?" He whined. "Do you suddenly hate me? Stress? PMS?"
A quick pinch to his sides had him fussing again. He mumbled incoherently at the injustice of it all, then was distracted by the bumps on the little machine thrust at him. The metal was cool and smooth under his finger tips.
Idiot, stop lying. He scowled at Shinichi. "I'm not lying! It's always great to (to see) hold you. You're warm and cozy." He did the best approximation of a leer he could bring up. He was mildly satisfied. While not quite the best, it was dodgy enough to normally send Shinichi skittering miles away, flushing. (Why does he keep reminding himself of things he can't have anymore.)
Instead, Shinichi climbed into Kaito's lap and guided his arms to cup his face, then slide downwards to around his waist. (He felt a surge of gratitude for Shinichi. He knew how much Kaito hated how awkward it was, reaching out for Shinichi's neck or trying to aim kisses with just a wild guess at where the body parts were.) Nimble fingers pulled Kaito's mouth edges downwards in a frown, then a light brush of chapped lips followed the path of the fingers.
"I miss looking at you," he blurted out, and a sharp jolt ran through him like an electric pulse. Oh God, what was he doing, complaining about his problems selfishly when Shinichi has lost just as much, and maybe even more-
A finger rested against his lips in the universal 'be quiet' motion. Judging by the irritated little clicks Shinichi was sounding, it was probably more like a 'Shut up'. Arms wrapped around his neck, gently pressing him closer to Shinichi's leaner frame. He bit his tongue. Can't let himself go, he had to be strong, he reminded himself. It would be selfish to ask Shinichi to hold up both of them when he was the one that screwed up, that caused the whole fucking mess to happen-
The arms moved off his shoulders, but the body remained comfortingly wedged against his. Little beeping noises sounded again and then his hand was grabbed and guided over the metal surface.
It's alright to grieve.
An overwhelming surge of pent-up emotions displaced him so badly; he gasped and clung onto Shinichi so tightly, he was sure there would be bruises later. "No, I can't- I have to- I-" he muttered wildly. Shinichi just clutched onto him equally tightly, mouthing damp Kaito, Kaito, Kaito, Kaito into his skin. He abruptly pushed Shinichi over, rolling him onto his side and curling around him. Kaito buried his face into Shinichi's back. Shinichi, whose grip on Kaito's arms had tightened in alarm, relaxed and laid limply on the bed, gently stroking the back of Kaito's hands clasped around his waist. "Don't- Don't look, okay." Kaito muffled stubbornly into Shinichi's hospital issue shirt. He felt the comforting petting stop, and a tiny huff, before resuming again.
When they woke up again, Shinichi just changed his damp shirt for a clean, dry one, without- not without a word, because he can't do that now- any fuss. Kaito felt a prickling again, and discreetly scrubbed at his face. Shinichi pretended he didn't see it.