His feet feel like lead as he trudged to the vending machine, adamant on getting coffee. It was only Saturday. Pinching his throbbing temples, he was reminded that he should ring his parents.
Taking his first sip of his coffee, he walked around the halls.
He hated hospitals.
Actually, they weren't that bad, having everything it needed to cater patient's needs. But it was a façade to their impending doom. And he hated it. Hated the way doctors and nurses would say with practiced ease that everything will be alright – when it won't.
They mean well, they really do, but they were a painful reminder of how fragile life was – how easy it can be taken away.
Reaching Room #423, he turned the knob, finding (Name) in the same state she's been the past six months. The door shuts quietly behind him, back resting against it.
"Tetsu, have you been eating?"
He could almost hear her voice, filled with worry of how thin he is. She always did that, nagging him like a mom to eat if he wanted to win. Funny she thought that, thinking more of his (and the team's) welfare's than her own. (Name) was always that kind.
Instead, the image of that beautiful girl was replaced with one lying on the hospital bed – limp and lifeless.
(Name) didn't belong here, not in this hospital nor in that bed she was lying in. No.
She deserved to be home, surrounded by her instruments, fussing herself.
He didn't know how long he just stood there before he heard a knock at the door. He opened it, his actions seemed robotic, staring at two familiar faces.
"Hey man," Bokuto greeted, balloons in different colors and shapes (there was an owl) in hand, worry in his eyes. "Wow, you look like shit."
"Thanks." He said, taking a sip of his coffee.
"That wasn't very nice, Bokuto-san." Akaashi scolded, appearing behind the silver-haired teen with flowers in his hands.
Too tired to argue, he stepped aside, letting them in. Closing the door behind him, he watched the two eyeing the unconscious girl, hearing Bokuto sighing while Akaashi dutifully went straight for the vase, intending to replace the flowers.
He plopped down on his seat, canned coffee still in hand.
"But seriously man," Bokuto called, tying the balloons next to side table. "you look terrible."
Kuroo closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose.
"When was the last time you got out?"
"Bokuto-san." Akaashi called in warning, appearing from the toilet with a vase filled with clean water.
"I'm serious!" Kuroo draped an arm over his eyes, as if to hide the bags under his eyes. "Dude, you barely left since. Day in, day out, you're here but never at home. Nowhere else but here. You even ditched your first year of college!"
"I won't want to leave her." Kuroo said, still not moving from his spot.
Bokuto frowned at his friend, arms crossed. "I'm not saying that you should, I'm saying (Name)-chan wouldn't like to see you this way."
(Name).
Sighing, Kuroo slumped forward, arms propped on his knees, staring at the sterile ground.
"We're just worried about you, Kuroo."
That must be the umpteenth time someone's told him that – his mom, his dad, his older sister, Kenma, Coach Nekomata, the team. But still, his resolve won't change.
Taking a long sip, he met both stares from Bokuto and Akaashi, who had just finished with the flowers.
"I'm not leaving her." he said in finality, turning to the sleeping girl. There was a lot of things he wanted to tell her, a lot. And he wanted to be the first person she sees when she wakes up, the first person to see her wake.
Sighing exasperatedly, hands on his hips, Bokuto resigned. His friend was stubborn, but he had an iron resolve. "I know you won't. Figured as much."
"Then why do you still bother?"
Smirking at the raven-haired teen, he says with a shrug. "Because bro, you matter to me."
Kuroo put a hand to his heart, touched. "Bro."
"Bokuto-san just wanted to act cool every once in a while," Akaashi coolly said, opening the drapes. That earned a loud, familiar call from his former captain. Kuroo smiled, some things never change.
"But seriously dude, you could use a bath because you smell like shit."
Akaashi didn't need to scold him then as Bokuto received a (friendly) punch to the gut from Kuroo.
Six months.
That's how long he was suffering, how long he had been tortured by the mere thought of never seeing her smile again, of never hearing her laugh again, of never having her around again – of never seeing her again.
The word cancer stuck to his head was like a punch to the gut, pummeling him inside out with every step he took. Never mind the burning pain of his muscles from a day's worth of match, never mind finally giving their coach the chance to watch the 'Battle at the Dumps' match even though they lost, never mind that his high school life had officially come to an end – they didn't matter at this point. He just wanted to see her.
And the first time he saw her – dressed in a hospital gown, with tubes sticking to her body connected to machines that kept her alive, he was crushed. As if he were a porcelain doll smashed into a million pieces, each fragment breaking into smaller pieces.
He nearly broke down at the sight of her. She as beautiful as ever, yet to see her in that situation broke his heart.
(Name) had been operated; the chances of her survival were slim. But the only thing Kuroo could think was how small (Name) looked in that big, white bed.
Picking her hands, he noted how small they were – how he could practically see and feel her bones. Threading his finger through hers, he brought them to his cheek, relishing in her warmth. These were the same fingers that cared for him each time he'd earn a bruise or a scratch, the same hands that brushed his hair when he was sleepy – gentle touches that made him think that she was an angel. Slim fingers that did magic with every instrument she held.
He always knew she was small – fragile, even – but it only clicked to him now as to why that was the case. Ironic that he was the perceptive guy, inside and outside the court, yet he failed to notice his best friend's wellbeing. How did he miss to notice how little she would eat, how easily tired she was or how low her stamina was? He was supposed to be the smart guy, for crying out loud!
He wanted to hit himself, to numb himself of the pain.
The moment he found out, he wouldn't stop crying, hating himself every minute of every day.
(Name) wouldn't wake up.
(Name) wouldn't wake up.
(Name). Wouldn't. Wake. Up.
"Kuroo," a voice called, quiet and low, one he knew all too well. Weakly raising his head, he looked over his shoulder, meeting a familiar blonde teen.
Kenma looked at his best friend worriedly, a frown in his face. "You should go home." The raven-haired lad shook his head, Kenma sighed. "(Name) wouldn't like that."
"I'm not leaving her." he says, voice raspy.
Kenma stared, eyes narrowing. "Have you been eating at least?"
"I've been snacking on what Auntie gives me," he rubs his eyes tiredly, stretching his arms over his head. "I'll be fine."
His dark hair was greasy, sticking out to different directions – messier than usual; there were bags under his eyes. The clothes he's been wearing were days old now, but it's not like he leaves the hospital. How long has he had proper sleep or shower?
"You're not." Kenma pointed out, walking towards the bed, opposite to where his friend was. He arranges the plushies of various game characters beside her bed, dusting a few. When he was done, he stood next to the unconscious girl, eyes dancing with sorrow.
Kuroo watched his friend carefully, a question burning his head. "How long have you known?"
Kenma blinked. Deciding to sit down, he met Kuroo's gaze. "A while now." He answers, as if anticipating the question. "(Name) was the most secretive amongst us three; I thought you'd have known first." Shrugging, he adjusted her blanket. "But you didn't." Kuroo wanted to laugh at that, because it was half-true. They both knew he was far more observant than he was.
Sighing, the blonde props his arm on a nearby desk, resting his head on his palm. "Knowing her secret was like carrying a heavy burden because it's her secret and your knowledge of her sickness."
Frowning, he asked. "She didn't know that you knew?"
The blonde shook his head without looking at him. "Like I said, it was a burden on my part as well. Plus, that'd be disrespecting (Name). And I can't do that to her."
Something likened to rage burned within him, he was standing before his best friend before he knew it. "And you didn't bother to tell me?"
"It's not my secret to tell." Kenma says easily, carefully setting her clamped hand aside.
"But we're best friends!" Kuroo's voice rose, earning a scoff from the blonde as he turned to meet his gaze, eyes almost challenging.
"Don't you think that'd be disrespecting (Name)'s decision?" Kuroo was practically shaking now, hands balled into a fist. "Besides, it's not like you cared to begin with-"
Kuroo had grabbed him by the collar, raising him to his level. "I dare you to say that again." He seethed hotly, eyes burning.
Kenma didn't falter, eyes glowering. "What's the matter, Kuroo? Upset that for once, you failed to gain information before me to break someone, to use it to your advantage? Or are you just mad that (Name) couldn't trust you enough?"
"Shut up!" his voice rose, grip tightening.
Steely gold hues met his, challenging and mocking. "Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?"
That was the final straw.
Taking his hand back, Kuroo was just about to smack Kenma in the face when blaring sound rang through the room. The two automatically turned to her, panicked, Kuroo dropped Kenma, ran for the intercom while Kenma stared at (Name)'s body, not knowing what to do.
A little while later, a nurse came rushing in.
Kuro and Kenma stepped aside, watching the nurse attend to their best friend each holding their breath. Kuroo was wondering if he should've called for her doctor, but after a while, the nurse sedated her, (Name)'s body relaxed.
The gentle beep of the heart monitor demonstrated her calmness.
"She'll be alright, just a little stressed is all." The nurse says kindly, much to their relief.
They sighed in unison, rooted on the spot even as the nurse left the room.
(Name)'s breathing slowly through the calming silence that came, followed by the purring of the machines and quite chattering outside.
The two best friends stood there, watching the unconscious girl. Kuroo and Kenma slumped against the wall, the raven-haired teen slipping to the ground. The tension between the two was still there, something that was rare even for them. In the many years they knew each other, not once have they got into a fight this extreme. And even if a fight did ensue, there was only one person who could bring it to a stop, one person they'd bow to than Yaku.
"She'd kill us by now," Kenma sighs, breaking the silence.
Kuroo snorted at that, hiding the smile on his face.
Eventually, he broke into fits of laughter. Kenma joined in.
"She'd give us a litany," Kuroo added, voice thick. "then she'd take us by the ear."
Kenma shuddered, rubbing at his ear. Kuroo did the same.
"You started it though," Kenma told him, bluntly.
Kuroo narrowed his eyes at him. "But you fanned the flames."
They burst into chuckles, tension dying down.
A little while later, the room was filled with members of the Nekoma team – bringing flowers, fruits and toys. Each member, especially Yamamoto, Inuoka, and Lev, fawned over their unconscious manager while Fukunaga fussed over the snacks. Yaku had to keep everyone in line.
The best friends exchanged a look, knowing that if (Name) were awake, she couldn't be any happier.
Someone was waking him, gently shaking his shoulders. Raising his head from his folded arms, he was met with warm (eye color) eyes. "Tetsuroo-kun." The woman greeted kindly.
"Auntie." He stood up in greeting, pulling his wrinkled clothes down. "Good evening."
Her smile, it reminded him of hers, how he missed her smile. "Good evening." Walking across the room, she dropped her bag and sat on the chair next to her daughter, patting a hand over her cheek. "Any news?" she asked, looking up at him.
He shook his head, hands tightening. "Just the same."
The smile remained, eyes never losing its light. "Then she's still alright."
Just staring at the woman made him wonder how she could still be so optimistic of the situation. It must be hard on her, her only daughter was under coma after her operation, yet she never loses hope. She was just like (Name). And duh, she was her mom!
"Have you eaten?"
He nodded. "Yeah." He lied, tucking his hands on his pockets.
She stared, her smile waning a bit, worry in her eyes, then nods.
"Where is Uncle?" he asked, staring at freshly cut flowers next to her bed – carnations, care of the Fukorodani team.
"Oh, just parking the car. He'll be here in a while."
Kuroo nods, not knowing what else to say. So he sits by the couch, watching Auntie talked to her daughter, telling her how her classmates missed her (evidenced by the balloons and cards surrounding her bed), how their neighbors have as well, how quiet the house has been lately without her playing, the little things. But to her, they were all that mattered.
He hung his head, not wanting to watch any longer. He could hear the sadness in her voice, the longing, and yet, she still hopes. How could she?
"I'll be right back, Auntie." He announces, making his way out before she could reply, missing the worried look on her face.
Six months.
Six excruciating months.
He's endured and suffered that long.
But still, she wouldn't wake up.
Splashing water to his face, he then looked up, finding a miserable guy staring back at him.
Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?
No matter what they say, it was his fault she was in this situation. It was his fault she's lying in that hospital bed, unconscious. It was his fault.
He wanted to punch his reflection so bad, but he was tired (physically and emotionally).
He didn't like hospitals, hated how clinically clean it was and how dreadful it was. Life came and go here.
Reaching for the door to her room, he paused.
What good would it be for him to be here?
He didn't deserve to be here keeping guard and watching her.
What was he even doing here?
"Aren't you going to go in?" a voice called behind him.
Turning, he was met with a kind gaze from a bespectacled (hair color) man. Their kind disposition ran in the family, he didn't deserve it.
At loss for words, Kuroo mumbled unintelligent words, the man laughed heartily.
"Looks like you need a bite," although shorter than the teen, he wrapped his arm around his shoulders, steering them away. "come, you need to eat."
Kuroo gulped, staring down at the meal before him, then at the smiling man. There were a few people at the cafeteria – a few nurses and doctors on break, a kid with his mother, some teens, and them.
A comfortable silence forms between them despite having fidgeting in his presence.
The smell of strong spice was making his mouth water, aptly reminding him of the lie he told Auntie. Truth was, he snacked on some fruits given by his family earlier that day, that and coffee. A little while later, his stomach growled. The old man chuckled heartily. "Go on," he encourages.
Timidly, he nodded, saying his grace before digging in.
His eyes widened at the burst of flavors in his mouth, almost forgetting what an amazing cook the man was. He chewed carefully, distracting himself with the texture and taste.
He hadn't noticed the old man leaving until he came back with a can of orange juice for both of them. Kuroo muttered a 'thanks', chugging down the beverage.
"It's so good to see you eat," he tells him, eyes crinkling. "and no, you can't lie to me. I know you, Tetsuroo-kun." He laughed.
It was like he was eight again. It was always like that with this man, this amazing man, who wielded instruments like magic, the same man who was the father of the girl lying in this very hospital bed, comatose, because of him.
He chewed slowly, eyes dropping. Eventually, he swallowed but didn't reach for more even though the bento box was still full.
"Oh, are you done eating?" asked the confused man.
He almost wanted to laugh.
These past months weren't easy on all of them, especially for them. They could have blamed him for why their daughter was here, but they didn't. Instead, they pulled themselves together for her and for him.
"Thank you, uncle." He says instead, meaning it. Kuroo grinned at the confused man before digging in again.
He shook his head at the teen before him, chuckling heartily. He studies the young boy before him, remembering the look on his face when he saw her comatose state – it was the look of absolute heartbreak.
When he was done eating, they packed slowly, making slow talk (although it was more of him doing the talking). They were standing outside her room, but before they entered, he called him.
"She wouldn't like it you know," he tells him, sincerely. "seeing you like this, filled with guilt and hate. She would've wanted you to be happy, even if she's not the one causing it."
There was a sharp tug in his heart at the last line. "But she makes me happy." It was barely a whisper, tears starting anew. "But I didn't let her know that."
His eyes were stinging with tears, body trembling.
The older man patted his shoulder, squeezing in assurance.
While waiting for her to wake up, he often talked to her about their childhood, some dumb memories, and some good ones. He even told her of the events that transpired during nationals, not knowing that she was watching via live television.
"You should've been there," he said quietly, letting his fingers play with her growing (hair color) hair. "the team wouldn't be anything without our manager."
Some days, he'd read to her, having scavenged through her room from her yet to read pile. He had to endure going through books that were not of his genre (especially romance), but in the end, found himself enjoying them.
With each passing day, the hope of her waking up was waning. He feared she might never wake up. The waiting was killing him, unnerving and destroying him. But he didn't give up hope, could never. He could wait years if he has to, just to see her (eyes color) eyes again, hear her laugh again, and be with her.
"Oh my, it's that boy again! He's become a familiar face around here."
"How long has he been visiting her?"
"About six months now, since that girl was brought in. He practically lives here."
"Poor thing, looks like he hasn't eaten or slept for days!"
"And he barely leaves her room. And when he does, it's only for a few hours or a day, and then he's back."
"Seriously?"
"The poor boy, the pain he's been through."
"And she might never wake up."
"I don't care what they say," he says against their intertwined fingers. "you are perfect to me. And I'm not leaving you."
It was barely midnight, but he couldn't help it. The conversation he heard earlier was getting to him. They didn't know anything about him or her. It was none of their business.
But to say that she was never going to wake up?
No.
He didn't like to think about it.
She was going to wake up.
He knew it.
But honestly? He wasn't so sure anymore.
Shifting in his seat, he threw his head back, massaging at his throbbing temples. When he opened his eyes, he noted something from the corner of his eye. Her ukulele was lying beside her; he stared at it long and hard before deciding to pick it up. Upon closer inspection, he noticed scratches and a Band-Aid on the crack of the soundboard. Something tugged inside him; he knew exactly where that crack came from.
His grip tightened.
Kenma was right, he was selfish.
He was so selfish.
Absentmindedly, he played with the strings, filling the silence. And then, he began adjusting the chords. It used to drive (Name) nuts, especially when she found how out of tune her ukulele was because of him. He smiled, he always loved seeing her cute face pinch into a frown – she was so cute like that.
Satisfied with the pitch, his calloused fingers began to play a few strings. The song was slow, gentle.
I wanna make you smile, whenever you're sad
Carry you around when your arthritis is bad
All I wanna do, is grow old with you
I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches
Build you a fire if the furnace breaks
Oh it could be so nice, growing old with you
He loved her.
Cliché as it is, he did.
Truth of the matter is, he's always been in love with her.
From the first moment they met, the first time he saw her smile, the first time she scolded him and Kenma, the first time she fussed over them, the first time he saw her play an instrument, to the first time she made him realize how many years have passed that he was so, so, in love with her.
So hopelessly in love with (Name).
Except, he was scared to risk their friendship – scared that she might not feel the same way he did.
I'll miss you
Kiss you
Give you my coat when you are cold
Need you
Feed you
Even let ya hold the remote control
Six months without her was absolute torture.
She was part of every significant event in his life; he couldn't remember spending a day without her in it
Because life without her? He couldn't even imagine.
It was meaningless.
If he could, he'd turn back time and make it right.
So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink
Put you to bed if you've had too much to drink
I could be the man who grows old with you
I wanna grow old with you
The last lines of the song came out barely a whisper.
Releasing a shaky breath, he hung his head, tears streamed freely. "I've waited so long to play that."
It was the cheesiest song from a lousy movie. But the song, he had to admit, was one of his low-key favorites. The lyrics to the song were so sincere and heartfelt. He finally understood why love songs were made – to say the words everyone failed to say or supplement their feelings.
If only she was awake, then he'd hear his feelings.
Putting her ukulele away, he takes her hand in his, holding it close as he cried. "Please, wake up."
He buried his face into her hand, kissing it as he repeatedly begs for her to wake up, tears still streaming. "There's so much I want to tell you, so much I want you to know."
Taking her hand, he places a quick kiss to her palm, pressing it against his chest. "Feel that? That's my heart and it's beating for you."
His heart was beating fast, as it always did when (Name) was around.
Every single thing she does wonders is magic to him, especially with the way he captivated her the moment their eyes met. He missed it all – her smile, her touch, her eyes, her laugh, in general, he missed her.
So much it hurt.
Because the possibility of her never waking up was a factor that scared him every single day for the past six months. He didn't want their last meeting to be of him being an ass to her.
His heart skipped a beat now as he felt her hand twitch.
A/N: I have been staring at this file for days, DAYS. And I finally came around to finish it after 9 FCKING HOURS. I am a shame. I am a sad excuse for a writer. Forgive me. I was debating whether I should have killed reader or not. Then again, it would be a waste to another great song to play on the uke *winkwink*