Today is the day of my eighteenth birthday.

The steady beep-beep of the monitors were like little lullabies in the stark room, their sounds reverberating almost like an echo. Two beds, placed side by side, were nearly identical with their streamlined white sheets, tucked in as though nobody had slept in them for decades, and the recline back at a heady angle. Sunlight shone through the only window in the room, illuminating as though the room was full of snow.

In some ways it was beautiful; a beautiful, endless scene that humanity would not dare disturb, no matter how dire their needs. The white was almost cherubic, angelic even. And the unprecedented cleanliness in which it was upheld sparkled as though it hadn't been touched for ages, like this room was a scene in time, frozen forever in its mysterious beauty.

At the far end of the room, a young man stood, his sandy-blond hair tussled beyond the help of a brush. His calm and—dare we say?—watery, blue sky eyes surveyed the outside scenery with distaste. Down below, people were hustling and bustling, their scrubs even identifiable from such a distance up, their gaits hurried and upset as though running from a devil. Some held briefcases, some held hands, some even held small little urns with shaking fingers; but they all were the same. No one dared to glance up, and hardly anyone paid the boy any heed.

"Um, excuse me?—Takatsuki-kun?" Whipping his head around, the boy (who we now may call Takatsuki) glared heatedly at a woman dressed all in white, her mousy, brown hair pinned neatly above her shoulders. Though it was rude, he did not grace her question with even an answer and just stood there, staring, his gaze venomous enough to bore a hole through the woman if such things were ever possible.

Finally, after a moment had passed and she still hadn't said anything, Takatsuki bit out an angry, "What? What the hell do you want?"

The woman, instead of becoming flustered or even angry by such a rude reply, gave a small, assured smile. "Takatsuki-kun, remember what we discussed with the doctor a few weeks ago? About the potential implant?"

His glare, if anything, didn't soften; it increased a whole ten-fold. As though he was gnashing his teeth together, he bit out, "Yes, I'm well aware. What about it?"

The woman smiled brighter, the wrinkles in her face protruding at an odd angle. "Well, the doctor did some research here and there and—" Here she paused as though telling him a secret. With a grin bigger than the sun itself, she said, "Well, he thinks he's found the perfect match!" Before Takatsuki could reply, she gave a small huff of excitement. "He would like for you to meet the candidate as soon as possible, if that's okay. The doctor says he'll be here sometime later tomorrow evening and—"

Suddenly, abruptly, she was cut off as a glass vase shattered against the wall beside her. Smile still etched eerily into her face, one could only tell she was startled by her pale pallor and wide, wide eyes.

"I don't want it," Takatsuki said, his gaze already settled on the distasteful scenes below him. "I don't want it all. You can tell that donor that he can go straight to hell."

This time, the woman did frown. "Takatsuki-kun…," she warned, the vase from only moments before forgotten as though it had never existed in the first place. With a nervous glance back, she took in a shaky breath and took a hesitant step forward. And another. And another. And she continued this until she was directly behind Takatsuki, his frame towering a good foot above her own.

With a loud, breathy sigh, she said, "Takatsuki-kun, you shouldn't be so dismissive. This man is willing to give you an organ—an ORGAN—" she stressed this, though whether the boy understood or not was entirely up to anyone, "just so you can live another days time. He might even save your life. Are you sure you want to throw away a chance like this so easily?"

Takatsuki's eyes narrowed, but he didn't glance away from the glass, much less grace her with a response. Sighing, she said again, "Takatsuki-kun, please—just meet with the man tomorrow and see how you feel about it. Then give me your answer. Okay?" Stepping to the side, she grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. "Okay?"

Takatsuki glared and, for a second, she was afraid something else was going to be thrown at her; then he sighed as though he was much too tired for this. "Fine. FINE," he said when she still hadn't loosened her grip. With a satisfied little harrumph, she let his chin go and stepped back, the perfectly professional woman back like a crack of lightning.

Smiling, she gave him an appreciative nod. "I'm glad to hear it, Takatsuki-kun. Now that we've taken care of that, I believe we have some guests downstairs waiting for you. Your sister Risako and your father are both here to see you. Are you ready to go, or is there something else you require?"

As though he'd been struck, he flinched, though the woman in all her vapid vanity hardly noticed. "N-no," he replied, though not without a little effort. "Everything's… fine." The lie, as though it were some cuisine, left a bitter taste on his mouth. No, he wanted to scream, everything was not fine. He didn't want to see his sister or his father. He didn't want to meet some stranger whose organs may or may not be compatible with his body. He didn't want an implant. All of this was just much too cruel.

No, if anything, he wanted to be at home with his family. He wanted to be traveling the world—to Australia, the States, anywhere he could—just so he could leave Japan. He wanted his mother to look at him and not cringe, he wanted his sister to hold him and hug him like any sister should, and he wanted his father to come home, not dump all his stress at work to the point where nobody ever saw him. He wanted to be healthy, to be free of this affliction that had followed him since birth, and he wanted to be normal. He wanted to go to school, he wanted to meet new people who weren't doctors and nurses and aids and strangers, and he wanted to live life when he wanted, how he wanted, where he wanted.

He wanted all these things. But if he was completely honest, the most he wanted right now was an eighteenth birthday party just like anyone else—the gifts, the cake, the presents. He wanted it.

He wanted it all.

"Takatsuki-kun?"

"…I'm coming."

Today I turned eighteen and yet, today repeats just the same. I don't think anything will ever change.

And yet, somehow, that may not be quite so true in this story…

XXX

Please review! Also, if anyone is interested in a beta position, let me know!~