A/N: This can technically classify as romance, friendship, tragedy, and hurt/comfort, too. But since there are only two genres you can select . . . yeah. Humor/angst.
In any case, enjoy! :)
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Kichi Maika was many things.
Easily irritated was one of them.
So, you might wonder, why was she even dating Sugawara Koushi?
Good question. It wasn't that Suga was annoying . . . or stupid . . . or cruel (far, far, far from the truth) . . . or even hyperactive. No, the reason that Maika was having to resist the strong urge that called for her to chuck her boyfriend off of an at least three-story balcony was simply because . . . he probably wouldn't have fought back.
He would most likely just smile that sweet, awkward smile that might as well have been trademarked The Suga-San Grin with a hint of self-deprecating sadness to it and said something along the lines of "I'm sorry, Maika-chan. Am I annoying you?"
The answer? 'Yes. Yes, absolutely yes, because you aren't even trying to argue for yourself, you complete and utter baka!'
And then Maika would not be able to chuck Suga off a balcony because he was too . . . sweet and trusting and eager to help and full of this stupid desire to please the object of his Daily Spoonful of Suga.
And then she could not help but wonder whether Suga was secretly evil and somehow able to scheme how to avoid being splat on the pavement below.
"I'm sorry, Maika-chan," Suga said suddenly, breaking Maika's rather homicidal and conspiracy-oriented train of thought. "Am I annoying you?"
Maika groaned and slammed her head against the desk.
"I take that as a yes?"
Maika muttered something unintelligible through her curtain of carelessly-brushed brown hair.
"Eto . . . Maika? Maika? Did you . . . Are you . . ."
"You killed me," she whimpered in an especially miserable voice she usually reserved for making victims - er, subjects of affection? - feel sorry for her. "I'm dead now."
"Eto . . ."
Maika rolled her eyes up to the top of her head (which was essentially useless, as Suga could not even see her). "Suga," she deadpanned, "when I argue with you over something, please don't just agree with me."
"But . . . I don't . . ."
"Please don't just politely state that we have different perceptions and thus different opinions, either."
"But . . ."
Maika's head shot up, the curtain of hair parting to reveal a scowl that was only furthered by poor Suga's mounting confusion.
"ARGUE BACK!" she all but roared.
Suga stared. "I - you're saying that you want me to disagree with you?"
Groaning, Maika clenched her eyes shut. Then she brightened, inspiration striking on how to explain to her hopelessly clueless boyfriend that arguing was needed every now and then.
"Say, Suga-kun, do you think killing babies is okay?"
Suga choked on his water. "E-eh?!" he cried.
"So you do?"
"No!"
"Okay. Keeping that thought in mind . . . imagine a good friend of yours or a relative or some female person gets pregnant. She comes to you looking for advice and comfort or whatever and ends up admitting that she's thinking about getting abortion. Would you smile reassuringly while holding back tears and anger and tell her that it's her choice? No! You would try to explain to her - calmly and rationally, mind you - that we can't just kill babies, even if they're tiny and inside a dark womb. What did the kid ever do to be sentenced to an untimely demise so that we can save face and/or not have to deal with raising kids? Nothing, I say! Nothing!"
(I think it's safe to say that Maika deviated slightly from her original argument. But hey, it was a rather impassioned speech, so . . . kudos?)
Maika coughed. "Eto . . . I mean . . . in any case, sometimes you have to argue with someone. Sure, you have to eventually step back and tell the person that it's their decision and you can't make it for them; but . . . eto . . . try and make them think first, would you?"
Suga blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.
"I agree with you on that . . . but what does any of what you just described have to do with whether or not Star Wars is a good movie?"
Maika beamed, a display of unfiltered, pure delight. "You just argued with me!" she chirped. "Progress, Suga! Soon, we'll be moving onto sarcasm!"
Suga shook his head, amusement clear over Maika's antics.
"Oi! Don't shake your head at me!"
"Sorry."
"And don't apologize, either!"
"Sor - I mean . . . eto . . ."
"Tch. Suga, you're pathetic."
But she spoke this as she was pretty much laying on Suga's lap, exhausted from her table-banging bout, so it wasn't exactly convincing.
Maika looked up to Suga's bright red face. "Suga, don't tell me you're embarrassed . . ."
"I - I - I -"
Maika rolled her eyes. "Seriously, though. We've been dating almost since school started."
"But - but - but -"
Maika snickered. "You sound like a scratched CD."
Suga appeared to be trying to think up a stinging retort to fling back at his snarky girlfriend; but alas . . . he was Sugawara Koushi. Stinging retorts just weren't in his nature.
With a sigh, he settled back and adjusted his legs so that Maika would have a more comfortable position. Maika reached up and tugged a lock of his hair.
"I really like you, you know," she said, the words not even close to a question.
Suga's grin nearly managed to split his face in half. "Yeah," he answered the not-question. "I know."
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Maika sighed.
Her living, breathing pillow had left her.
Sadness above all sad.
"Oi!" her brother yelled. "Stop sulking over the fact that your boyfriend went home!"
Maika pouted. "I'm not sulking."
"If you're going to sulk, at least do it in your own bedroom and not in the living room!"
"Why?" Maika demanded, the pout still pursing her lips.
"Traffic, you baka!"
"Fiiiiiine," she whined.
Maika dragged herself to her room. Okay, so she was sulking! Who wouldn't? Suga was a perfectly nice pillow.
Also, there was the fact that he was, you know, her boyfriend; but hey, let's not dwell on the small things, yeah?
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"Hey, Suga."
"Maika? Is that you?"
"No, it's the Queen of England. Of course it's Maika, baka. Have you even heard of the thing called caller ID?"
"Eto . . . I . . . Why did you call?"
"Does their have to be a reason? I can't just call my boyfriend to chat?"
"Wasn't I just at your house three minutes ago?"
"Your point?"
"What math problem is it?"
"This has nothing to do with math!"
"Okay, then what -"
"I had writer's block. So I inserted you into a story where I switched our genders. You're the protagonist and I'm the antagonist, and we fall in love. But we still have to fight near the conclusion, and you end up gaining the upper hand, but you can't bear to kill me. So you drop your gun. Except I grab it and shoot you. The story ends with my tears mingling with your blood. What do you think?"
"Other than the fact that I'm horrified your mind takes such a gruesome turn when we as a couple are involved?"
"Hey! It's only character incarnations of us! It's not like I'm actually an assassin and you're a detective."
"An assassin?! Maika . . ."
"What?"
"You aren't cold enough to plan murders and actually carry them out."
"That's a serial killer. An assassin gets paid to do it. A serial killer does it for free. And by the way, Suga . . . did you really just say that out loud? Where are you?"
". . . And why am I a detective?"
"Because! That's just how things are!"
"Fine. But don't you think the ending is kind of . . . dark?"
"Suga, you can never have too dark an ending. Angst is poetry! I breathe angst and tragedy as I spill my feelings upon the page. . . ."
"Do you suffer from insanity?"
"Nope. Enjoy every second of it."
"Not what I meant."
"I'm grinning at you and wiggling my eyebrows."
"Maika!"
Oh, she could just see the flush in his cheeks . . .
"You're so prudish, Suga," she teased.
A few seconds passed, and she frowned.
"Did I disturb you too much? I admit the 'wiggling my eyebrows' thing might have been taking it too far. . . . Hey, Suga, are you even there?"
No answer.
Maika pulled her phone away from her cheek. Huh. He must have accidentally hung up again. Or maybe he just did it because he couldn't take any more of her . . . words.
Shrugging, Maika turned back to her laptop. Suga would call back if he wanted.
She had probably already heckled him enough.
A blissful smile of contentment on her face, she typed, 'Falling. He is falling, his throat closing in. Something clatters to the ground, and the detached part of his mind observes that he should pick up the gun, lest someone else. But there is only Tenshi, only the shocked and horrified expression still frozen on her face.
'There is only blood.
'The blood blossoms into a dark red flower, tendrils and petals entwining, spreading, across Tenshi's shirt. A drop of clear liquid falls into the stain as well. Another. And another.
'He realizes that the drops are tears.'
A satisfied sigh, and she hit SAVE.
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Her phone rang, Suga's contact picture popping up.
"Hey, Suga."
Someone was crying on the other end, gulping, heaving sobs that the caller was trying to stifle.
"Eto . . . who is this?"
"I - I'm sorry. This is Koushi's mother." She started crying again.
"Are . . . Are you alright? Sugawara-san? Is something wrong?"
"It - it's Koushi. I mean, Suga. He's been in an - he - he's been in an accident."
An icy feeling overtook her arms. Maika wrapped her arms around herself and said, "I'm sorry . . . I don't think . . . I don't think I heard you right. What's going on? Why do you have Suga's phone?"
"He got in a car crash. He's at the hospital and - and he's not - he's not waking up."
A car crash.
No.
That was impossible. Car crashes were cliches. Car crashes were . . . Car crashes didn't . . . Car crashes wouldn't - they couldn't - happen to Suga.
It was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous and idiotic and . . . and . . .
"What hospital?" asked a calm, almost robotic voice that was not her own.
Not Suga. Not her Suga.
It was a story. It was a dramatic, angsty story that Maika had thought up; and Suga and his mom were helping her make sure that the dialogue and reactions were realistic, believable, right.
A foolish thought, but Maika clung to it with all her might.
Because not to was to go insane.
It's a story. Only a story.
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"Daichi."
"Kichi-san?"
"There's a problem."
"What is it?"
Breath hitching - no, no, just a story, just a role-play, just a script people were following. Daichi was in it, too; Daichi was helping.
"It's Suga. He's been in an accident."
A pause on Daichi's end.
"He's at the hospital. And I want to go, but my mom isn't home to take me, and I don't want to go by myself, and - and - and -" Maika breathed in. "So I want - I need -"
"I'll be right over."
A sob got stuck in Maika's throat -
A story. Just a story.
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They had walked in silence, then rode in silence, and for that Maika was thankful.
He could have thrown out questions, interrogated, pleaded . . . but he didn't. Which was good, beause Maika did not have any answers.
She was as lost as Daichi was.
No. That wasn't quite right.
She was more.
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He was so pale. Like paper, and the messy strands of silvery hair that no one had bothered to brush from his forehead only accentuated the fact.
One look at Suga lying in the hospital bed and Maika had to abandon her wispy denial. It was too real, too in her face to ignore.
Tears began to rise in her eyes, but she held them at bay.
He was going to be okay. He had to. It was the way things worked, the way things were supposed to happen . . .
. . . except this was not a story, Suga was not a character, and there was no author dictating the events to make a happily ever after.
"He's going to be okay," Daichi said hoarsely. "He will."
"Promise?"
Oh, how Maika hated the way her voice wavered and her thoughts and hopes latched onto Daichi's reassurances, his promises. A practical stranger, for crying out loud!
"I promise."
But it was like Suga once told her. It was very hard not to believe Daichi when he promised something, because Daichi was . . . Daichi.
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Daichi had told the volleyball club that Sugawara had been in an accident. According to him, they had all made several trips to the hospital to see him, talk to him, wait for him to wake up.
Maika tried to care; she really did . . . but she just wanted Suga to wake up. She just wanted . . .
She wanted what everyone was trying to work. She didn't care what it was.
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She went with some of them once: Daichi, Yamaguchi, and Tsukishima.
From what she had gathered, Daichi went almost every time.
They spent the time talking to Suga. Or in Tsukishima's and Maika's cases, half-hearted tauntsand jests.
Yamaguchi hesitated, then whispered, "We're all really worried about you, Suga-san. So please wake up. It . . . It isn't the same."
He did not wake up.
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They were walking out when an uncomfortable heat began to prickle in Maika's eyes.
No. No, she couldn't cry. She couldn't cry now, because then Daichi would feel compelled to try to comfort her. and she would only cry harder, and -
"It's almost cute," Tsukishima said suddenly, airily, tauntingly, "how you're so short that you have to all but jog to keep up with us. Us who are walking. Leisurely, bored, no hurry whatsoever." He smirked, tilting his head; and the smug look that seemed like it was permanently glued to his face strengthened. "That is, if you think chibi are cute."
"What. Did. You. Just. Call. Me?"
"Chibi. You're a chibi."
Maika's eyes darkened. "Say that again, four-eyes. I dare you."
"Ooh, four-eyes, what a cutting comeback from such a mature spokeswoman," he sneered.
"Beanpole."
"Midget."
"Giant."
"Dwarf."
"Jerk."
"Troglodite."
"Curmudgeon."
"Dork."
"Goldilocks!"
"Now you're just getting desperate," drawled the infuriating voice that-was-Tsukishima-Kei's.
Maika whacked him, while Yamaguchi and Daichi rolled their eyes and pretended not to snicker.
Despite how much she wanted to punch his smirk into his head, Maika had to admit that Tsukishima had managed to see her dilemnna and distract her.
Or maybe he just felt like he needed to infuriate someone and his unlucky target happened to be Maika.
Actually, now that she thought about it, it was probably the latter.
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It was a week before she received the call. School and club activities had flown by in a blur, and Maika spent most of her time worrying . . . obsessing . . . trying to be with Sugawara as much as possible.
But he was okay. His mother said so. He was still disoriented, but he was a lot better off than he could be.
He was awake. He was awake, and he was okay; he wasn't going to . . .
He was awake.
"Kichi-san," the doctor said quietly, "just . . . just remember: his mind is still in a fragile state. The injuries he received were more mental than anything. He has to get used to things. Please . . . be gentle with him."
'What about me?' Maika wanted to ask. 'Who's going to be gentle with me?' But she didn't, because that would be petty; and after all, Suga was the one who was injured, not her.
She nodded and stepped into the hospital room.
Suga was half sitting up, half lying down. He looked . . . tired. Washed out.
Maika shoved those thoughts away and smiled brightly. "Hey, Suga. How you feeling?"
"Good?" he said, questioning the word, tasting it as it rolled off of his tongue.
Maika beamed. "Were your parents okay?"
"They - Mom was crying, but she was smiling at the same time, and she told me that she was crying because she was happy." Each words was pushed out and tested, as if sentences were a maze that had to be traversed carefully.
Maika laughed, too happy, too giddy over his recovery to notice the perplexed expression washing over Suga's features. "Of course she's happy, baka. You're awake."
Suga smiled back; but it was a hesitant smile, halting and worried. "I . . . I'm sorry. . . . But do I know you?"
All the color drained from her face.
The doctor had told them, told her, that his physical injuries were minor. That he would fully recover in time. But the mental injuries . . . What if he -
No. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible.
"N-not funny," Maika tried to snap, but her voice cracked in the middle.
"I'm not joking," Suga said, each word still agonizingly slow and careful. His eyes were anxious, worried and guilty over causing someone distress. "I have no idea who you are."
I have no idea who you are.
I'm not joking.
Do I know you?
Maika whirled around and fled.
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A/N: Sorry? *gulps slightly*
I typed this up when I should have been updating my X-Men fic. *wince* Oops.
I might make this multi-chaptered somehow. Or I might just leave it as a one-shot.
Anyway, review and tell me what you think! Any corrections, comments, critique, etc. will be appreciated. :)