Author: Uchiha Yumi
Title: Nightly Wishes
Genre: Angst, AU
Summary: A doctor, a patient, a kiss – and a whole night to think about two lives unexpectedly meeting each other. AU, Renji x Byakuya, lightly Shonen-Ai
Rating: T/PG13
Parings: Renji x Byakuya
Main Characters: Kuchiki Byakuya, Abarai Renji, slight appearance of Kuchiki Rukia
Special thanks: A special thank to Lilya-chan and FunnyNeko, for reading and correcting all of my nasty stuff.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I tried to sneak into Kubo Tite's room and bribe both into having some "live action" in front of me, but evidently hiring a Kuchiki is more than I can afford in terms of money…
Notes: English is not my native tongue. Please tell me about my mistakes!
Alright, that's it – my first AU-fiction!
Well…I guessed you noticed from the summary it's not a High-school fic – more like a "Hospital-fic". Blame it on my obsession for hurt/comfort situations.
I hope you're gonna like it as much as I did – the idea came to me in June/July but the writing was postponed to August because of school.
Oh, before you joygasm, this fiction is gonna have just TWO chapters – and sorry, I have no intention to go further than that – also because I ran out of ideas with chapter two (which is in progress, actually). There should be no need to say it, but reviews are always appreciated, as well as suggestions and constructive critique.
Yumi-chan
NIGHTLY WISHES
Chapter One: Clockwise
"Thirty minutes, a blink of an eye
Thirty minutes to alter our lives
Thirty minutes to make up my mind
Thirty minutes to finally decide"
t.A.T.u. – 30 Minutes
Kuchiki Byakuya's POV
The room was small and dim-lighted, just a few lazy beams of radiance filtrating from beneath the closed door and timidly glowing in that dark pool of obscurity.
The bed was small and hard behind his back, the shiny metal of the side protections palely catching a little of that light, making them look like abandoned tracks of a railway leading to nowhere in particular – but maybe, just maybe, to the land of dreams and wishes.
The man slowly turned around, brushing his long, raven hair off his forehead with a distracted motion of his pale hand.
His arms were pulsating with a dull ache, a sense of dizziness numbing his body. A tiny tube was springing out of a small, white plaster on the internal fold of his elbow and agilely spiralling up to meet a transparent bottle, caged in an iron gate. There was the quiet sound of something dripping, slowly, then, just a few moments later, a light sensation of burning in his arm as the medicine slipped into his body.
He was alone in the room and the sensation of pain and flaring into his stomach seemed way lighter than the last time he felt it.
The last way he felt it…
When was it already? How long had he slept in that hospital room?
He narrowed his eyes to try and catch a glimpse of the nearby clock in that swallowing gloominess, the needles blurring into his sight before slowly getting into focus again, sternly pointing towards the numbers four and two.
4.10 in the morning, actually. So he had been dozing off for about…6 hours, by now.
It was probably to blame on the painkillers, since it wasn't like him at all to fall asleep that early. Especially not when he felt thrilled, or agitated, or when he had some fixed thought buried in the depths of his head. Yes, definitely not like him.
It was his second day in the hospital, if he recalled correctly. He had arrived the previous night with an ambulance on an emergency call. He couldn't remember exactly what there had been between himself working to find a few needed items on the penal code and the sensation of being stabbed in his abdomen while foolishly rushing down the streets on an annoyingly beeping carriage – apart from himself throwing up something red in the sink and his sister repeatedly yelling his name while he motionlessly fell on the ground.
Why did he fall on the ground already? He didn't know anymore.
But, honestly, it wasn't of vital importance in that moment.
In any case, it wasn't his first acceptance in that place – in particular, not in that ward. His stomach had frequently felt bad in the last years, forcing his career as a brilliant lawyer to some imposed stops – and consequent hospitalizations.
Gastritis, they had said at first. An ulcer, some time later. Many ulcers was their last response when he received the results of his most recent examinations – the usual scope – a couple of months before.
It was curious.
He wasn't even 40 years old yet, and his body already couldn't take it anymore. Nobody would have believed this, nobody would have bet a single penny on his beaming and promising life taking such a radical and depressing path, so far from the common ideas and expectations.
Kuchiki Byakuya had been a content man. He came from a wealthy family, he had a discreetly big house, a famous studio in the middle of the town, a beautiful and caring wife who just got pregnant when he was at the peak of his career and happiness.
It was perfect, just simply, totally perfect – maybe too perfect to last.
Hisana got quickly sick, her colourful cheeks slowly but steadily getting more and more ashen by the day, the light in her eyes choked and stifled until nothing was left but a ghostly shadow of what it had been.
He didn't notice at first. He was no mind-reader and even less a present husband, his thirst to get higher still in his social position drenching his thoughts and monopolizing his existence, making him the perfect prototype of the money-maker.
But then, on a windy night of April, everything changed.
He was talking to her about his project to move to a bigger house as soon as the baby would be born, and she was happily smiling and nodding as if his every word was a distillate of bliss and hope. Then, the moment after, she leaned back on the pillows of their bed – it wasn't unusual, those days around. She was entering in her fifth month of pregnancy, and the doctor had told them it was normal for her to feel tired and strained.
He kept on talking for a while, his eyes running quickly on the pages of a catalogue of houses and villas – but she wouldn't answer anymore.
He rushed to the hospital, his black BWM car pushed so far the engine squeaked continuously.
Miscarriage, they had said. She needed to go under surgery to remove something, he had been asked for her blood group and he didn't even know what to reply.
Too many long and difficult words pronounced quickly, papers to sign hurriedly and then long, slow hours to spend in that white waiting-room, the big, round-shaped clock on the wall pointing out the minutes and seconds of his grief and sorrow.
And so she was gone, like that. One second she was smiling, the following one she had already taken her way to heaven, dragging their baby along with her.
He will keep her company – they had said. Small consolation, really.
Kuchiki Byakuya had been left alone. So suddenly, so quickly he couldn't even realize it fully.
He boarded himself up and buried in his job, from then on, his sense of guilt eating his conscience alive bit by bit, day my day, year by year. He tried even harder, all of his efforts put into growing more famous, gaining bigger merits, climbing higher and higher and never reaching something able to satisfy him, simply because what he was looking for wasn't there and would never be and he knew that but still couldn't stop and…
And soon he started developing sicknesses. His perfect sight lowered to the point he had to wear glasses to read and write, his head got frequent aches and, last but not least, his stomach started devouring itself.
He was too stressed, he was working too hard, he had to eat more regularly and dedicate some time to relaxing activities – in the last 15 years he had made a whole collection of the useless tips and explanations people had freely and unrequitedly given him, secreting laughing at the human kind's stupidity whenever he could state again they still were far from the truth.
Kuchiki Byakuya wanted to suffer – that was what they didn't get and probably never would.
He had begged for it, every time at night his hand brushed lightly against the empty space on the right side of the bed and felt it cold, every time her laughter resounded in his head and torn his heart apart, ripping his soul to shreds.
He deserved to be sick. It was his rightful punishment for being so blind and forgetful. Every pang, every minute of pain and flaring was like a soothing ointment for his tormented mind.
And, no matter how hard they would try to convince him, that thing wouldn't change.
He shot again a glance at clock.
4.55, more or less, he couldn't distinguish it clearly from that far.
He had mentally rambled for more than 40 minutes.
Impressive.
Maybe it was the IV to cause his mind to travel so far and dwell in his painful past.
Or maybe…not.
In the last 5 years he could count something like 16 hospitalizations, 3 quick surgeries and over 10.000 dollars gone in vain treatments. Every single acceptance looked much like the previous one and would surely be alike the following: his arrival folded in two from the pain but still trying to look somewhat dignified, the quick visit of a gastroenterologist – he had met so many of them by now he could write a guide on that topic – the papers to sign, his four, five days of forced cures and exams and then the discharge, with the usual recommendations he wouldn't hear, the usual diet he wouldn't follow and the usual medicines he wouldn't take.
However, much to his surprise, this time something had gone differently than what he had planned.
He had felt really bad – as bad as he hadn't felt in years – and had been carried to the hospital on an ambulance. Then, as a first thing, he hadn't been quietly visited on a soft white bed – another thing he could write a guide onto were the questions made during the acceptance visits – but immediately dragged to be scoped.
Great, he hated that procedure, though he would never admit it. Ok, actually he had become so boarded up he would have denied even his own nature of human being, but whatever.
And then…
Then something even stranger had happened. He had been told the doctor who was about to do the examination wanted to talk to him face to face, after. That nearly was a prime.
From the hazed fog of the pre-exam anaesthesia, he had stolen a glance of a tall and sturdy figure, chatting with Rukia outside the room. He had heard something about them not meeting from the time of high-school, so he had time to guess they were friends or at least acquaintances.
But then, before he could absorb something else from the outside world, the powerful sleepy-mask kicked in, sending him straight to the lands of dreams.
When, a few hours later, the mist had cleared a bit, there was a man sitting in front of his bed, straddling a chair with his elbows rested on its back. There was a folder in his left hand and he was staring right in his direction. His hair was bright red and tied up in a high ponytail and some intricate tattoo starting from his brows and curiously heading down to his neck and lower, under his green hospital-clothes and his white coat.
"Good afternoon…Kuchiki-san" he had said, glancing at Byakuya's name on the papers he was holding.
The older man had just frowned in response, that odd sight making him doubt to be out of the sedatives yet. But then, some previously stored information started to crawl back towards him.
Could that man be…?
No, he didn't look much like a doctor. He had more the appearance of a backstreet rat. Or an assistant, at the most. Definitely not a clinic and not the one who had scoped his delicate stomach for sure.
He had just mentally smirked in that moment. How curious, he was complaining like a high-class snob about his stomach being too sensitive to be checked by such a man when he didn't make the slightest effort to make it heal in years. Hypocrite.
"Doctor Abarai Renji. Nice to make your acquaintance. It looks like I will follow your cures, this time" he added after a short while, clarifying – or intensifying, it depends on how you want to take it – the lawyer's doubts.
That strange man was his doctor? Unbelievable, truly unbelievable.
However something even more unbelievable was just about to happen. Usually, the rare times a doctor would try his way and talk to him, his obstinate and absolute silence would induce even the most well-intentioned man to desist and just leave. But that didn't seem to be the case.
"I've been attending Rukia's same schools since elementary. But I'm one year older" he smiled, but just to meet Kuchiki Byakuya's stoic expression. Not even that caused him to give up "She gave me a quick breakdown on your situation and I've already done my researches on your case, Kuchiki-san" he smiled again, genuinely.
Kuchiki Byakuya probably scowled – probably, because he couldn't be much sure, since he still felt a bit dizzy. So that man had talked to his sister and had done researches on his case.
Ooow, interesting – he somewhat enjoyed to amuse himself with the curious types, before definitely kicking them out of his life. He would just play along for a bit.
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence – in which the red-head had scratched his head and cleared his throat a dozen of times (inducing the nobleman to bet on a quick departure) he surprisingly started to speak again.
"It's ok if you don't feel like talking. I stake your throat still feels odd from the numbing spray. It was one Hell of a scoping, we had to use tons of-"
"I'm fine" he cut him off. It was enough, really enough. He had no right to meddle into his life and it had to be pointed out immediately.
"Oh…" the doctor had been caught off guard for a brief moment, but then he simply resorted to a warm, cheerful smile "Better like this, then"
He was starting to hate that red-head. He was annoying. Way more annoying than what he had planned, his will to play along a bit crushing against that warm, mischievous smile of his.
Just another word and he would…
"Your stomach seems to be in a really bad condition. No wonder you threw up blood – a couple of your ulcers had deepened and started to leak ou-"
. . . yell.
"It's none of your business. I said I'm fine!" he managed to utter in a still somewhat respectful voice.
This time it looked like his action had some sort of effect.
The other man closed his mouth immediately, then lightly frowning and giving some looks at the folder, taking out his pen to scribble some vain prescription and then just …
…talk?
"No, you're not fine. No one with a stomach in your conditions could be"
Oh, it looked like the boy wanted to challenge his endurance. Great, he would just serve him what he deserved: a free dose of icy coldness.
"I said it's none of your concern anyway. If I say I'm fine I-"
"Stop acting like a kid, Byakuya!"
That had been really, truly surprising.
Not only a complete stranger had interrupted him while he was talking, but he had even outrageously dared to call him by just his first time.
Unacceptable. Completely unacceptable.
Kuchiki Byakuya's eyes menacingly narrowed as his coldest voice ever prepared to pronounce some words meant to shut him up for a long while. He was a lawyer after all. Using words to cut through people's obstinacy and insolence was daily routine for him.
"Know your place, you-"
But another interruption had nullified his intention.
"This is my place. I'm your doctor" his voice sounded just as icy, a mild glare giving even more emphasis to the words.
For the first time in many years, Kuchiki Byakuya had to shut up. Evidently pleased with the result, Doctor Abarai let out a breath. Then, with absolute calm he had stood up and moved closer to the bed.
The older man startled a bit, the feeling of his personal space being violated so openly and carelessly shaking him from the inside. He hated people coming close to him. It made him feel…harmless?
No, it couldn't be. He was stronger than feeling defenceless because of a doctor sitting on his bed.
He just turned his head to the other side, indignantly. He was stronger than that. Far, far stronger than that, but then why was his heart…
…racing, then?
It should have been the sedatives, yeah. There was no other rational reason.
"Admitted because of a stress-caused ulcer" the doctor started again "That's what's written on every one of your recent papers. Stress, excess of work, incorrect alimentation quoted as probable causes …" He paused "but I have a feeling this is all bullshit. Am I right…Byakuya?"
Here he was again, being called by his first name. But, strangely this time he couldn't feel angry.
He simply couldn't. There was something in that voice, something in feeling that man's breath so close to him that prevented every possible bad reaction.
Kuchiki Byakuya just nodded, head still turned to the other side.
"There's something bothering you" the red-head stated, letting out a soft sigh "something you can't come to terms with. Something happened in the past and hunting you, probably"
The other man gasped.
How…how could he know? How could he just open his mouth and dig painfully into his past without no right and no reason? In a sole moment, he felt his heart being squeezed and torn to the point of breaking. In a sole moment, all the ghosts of his life came back to eat up what he managed to preserve of his soul.
He turned around quickly, one of his small hands ready to hit with a slap the violator's face, but he was stopped by another hand, sturdier, grabbing his own, tightly. For a moment he thought it would be painful, but quickly he realized it was…warm?
He looked into the other man's eyes. They were severe and glaring, but deep inside he could read some sort of…raw tenderness. Some gratuitous sense of caring he was never really able to feel.
The same sense of caring whose lack had brought to his wife's death.
He felt a long shiver running down his spine and suddenly it was as if he was falling down his highness, into the empty darkness, without hope, without anything to grasp onto.
He felt scared.
"You won't solve anything like this" Abarai Renji went on, calmly, but with that slightest hint of authority in his voice able to quench every possible objection.
Oh, what a discovery.
Did he ever think he could solve some of his problems in that way? No, not really.
But he never wanted to find a solution, that was. He needed consolation, he needed something to soothe his heart and warm up his soul.
But not a solution. Never.
"Do you think killing yourself in such a foolish way will have any utility?"
Killing himself…
Kuchiki Byakuya's eyes widened for a brief moment.
He had never seen the matter in that perspective. Was he really trying to kill himself? Had that been the hidden goal behind years of self-punishing and seeking for pain and grief?
Kill himself and follow Hisana's and their baby's fate. Was that what he had been thinking all along?
It hardly mattered now. Whatever the original purpose was – if there was a purpose, part from soothing his sorrow with physical pain – he was now completely in and couldn't go back. He was on the dance-floor, the music was on and he had to dance.
No matter he had been dancing for years, now. No matter he still had years to spend tapping all over the shiny floor of a perfect appearance.
He gave a quick glace at the man next to him. Just what did he want from his existence?
It had taken him years to build some semblance of stable balance and now, a red-head popped out of nowhere was spurting out philosophical sentences worth of a cheap gossip magazine and was challenging his work of a life.
"Anyway" the doctor resumed after a short thinking "It's not my duty and my business to judge you"
Oh, so now it wasn't his duty?
He had been destroying piece by piece his castle of illusions and shaky achievements and now "it wasn't his duty and business"?
The rage in that moment was blinding him. His hand raised again, faster than before and hardly slapped against his tanned face, the dull sound echoing in the otherwise silent room.
"NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS?"
It wasn't like Kuchiki Byakuya to get angry that easily – or, at least, to show his emotions that openly. He was a collected person, used to the forced calm of the tribunal's environment.
But that time, he just snapped. It was too much to take altogether.
Ok, let's rephrase: it was too much to take. Period.
"YOU-"
Yes, he what?
Words were chocked in the lawyer's throat when his lips came in contact with other, warmer ones.
A kiss.
A tongue slipping inside of his mouth, twirling, pulling him closer still.
How long had it been from the last time he had been kissed? Or…was he the one kissing and setting the pace? In that spiralling whirl of surprise and heated wetness he wasn't sure.
Years…
Too many years, too much pain, too many events shaking his life had passes since the last time he felt at least half of those sensations.
He melted in that kiss, he sank into it until he could feel the warmth crawling under his skin and setting his whole body on fire. He hugged the other man close to his chest and kept on kissing, his tongue battling for dominance, his hands eager for some contact, some love and affection he didn't remember how tasted like.
As soon as it started, it ended.
The two men looked at each other's eyes and blushed, immediately turning around.
"I'll…" the doctor started, stuttering "I'll send you a nurse to give you some medicament in a few minutes"
He stood up, quickly, and moved to the door.
Byakuya would have liked to stop him. He would have liked to ask him to stay a little longer, not to leave him alone. Not to let him fall again in that swallowing darkness his existence was.
He just nodded, instead, their eyes shortly meeting again, before the door closed behind his sturdy shoulders.
A beam of light…
And now…
He breathed deeply, a light cramp in his sore stomach inducing him to wince lightly.
5.40 in the morning, the blurry clock seemed to indicate from the far lands of his bed.
The IV was still dripping quietly into his body to give him the "medicament" he was evidently still needing.
Hours had passed from the moment when he started to space out again and still he couldn't erase how it had been, how warm it felt, how suddenly right even being so wrong and unexpected.
He had kissed another person. After years of sufferance and chastity and self-deprecation. And it had been a boy. His doctor, a person who had destroyed every one of his illusions within just a bunch of minutes.
Was it just coincidence? A mistake? Fate?
He painfully brought his hand to his lips and traced them slightly. Were they…warmer than before?
Had his cold and ice-shielded heart really been melted by…
A beam of light…?
Maybe he should really start considering curing himself and healing from that annoying disease of his – was it the ulcers of his loneliness, already?
It looked like it was worth it, in the end. If only to see doctor Abarai again.
Even just once.
Kuchiki Byakuya turned towards the window. A suffuse, soft glowing of red and orange beams was starting to crawl under the closed shutters, timidly announcing the beginning of a new, warm day.
He was smiling.