Ch3 Early Dawn
Fu. Fu. Fu. It's been so long…….. you must think that I'm dead or something……. Well I'm not! I've never felt better!!! Sugar does great things, yes?
As I've haven't put up a disclaimer for any of my stories, so here goes: I do not, never will, own Moon Child or any of its characters. But if I did…….. let's just say…….. nothing on the subject….
The way home from Son's house is simple. It's very late in the night, when even the birds are sleeping, and only the streetlights are guiding me. I have a good sense of sight in the dark, but it only benefits me up to a certain point. Arriving home, I'm tired enough to crash onto the couch in an undignified heap, only to find that I'm in desperate need of a shower and some fresh clothes. Damn.
And so, approximately twenty minutes later, I'm toweling my hair in a calm matter when the phone rings, blaring unnaturally loud in my ears. Dropping everything (except for the towel around my waist, in a show of good common sense), and nearly tripping over a couch leg, I manage to answer the phone in good grace. I am expecting to be Son, with information about our next job, but it turns out to be someone else….
"Shinji-kun?"
"Sho's at the hospital," Shinji, on the other side, begins in a gruff tone, obviously somewhat put off, "He's conscious and a bit disoriented, bit never less awake. He's asking for you." I can hear more than enough bitterness in his voice, but choose not to comment on it, for time's sake.
"Is he still at the hospital?"
"Yes," Shinji replies, and hangs up immediately, after this singular word is uttered.
Hanging up also, I proceed to hurriedly dry my hair and dress, thinking to myself all the while. Shinji is obviously annoyed at me, that's all I can say.
The hospital looks the same as ever, except for small white banners littering the grounds. I'm rushed for time, using vampiric speed to arrive at Room 313 in a flash. If Sho's unconscious again, then I won't be able to find out what happened.
Luckily for me, Sho is wide awake, propped up by pillows on the hospital bed, a hot mug of coffee at his side. He isn't surprised is to see me at all, but Shinji is. I really doubt his eyebrows can show anymore irritation, but somehow, they can. Cigarette and light in hand, he glares at me venomously.
"Hi Kei!" Sho practically chirps as I switch my gaze onto him, his smile the exact opposite of his brother's. I offer him a tired smile and sit in a chair conveniently placed next to his hospital bed. Sho doesn't seem to be traumatized at all, and if I didn't know better, I would say that he was in the hospital only for a simple checkup. The bigger parts of his bandages are hidden by his shirt, preventing me from seeing all, but despite this, I ask:
"Sho, do you remember anything about what happened to you before you ended into the hospital?" Sho, being totally innocent for once, only looks confused and replies, "Remember what, Kei?"
I'm a bit shocked for a moment, and am struck speechless, sputtering indignantly, "What?"
"He obviously can't remember anything that happened to him." Shinji snaps irritably. Cigarette finished, he stubs it out on a nearby table, leaving a black stump. Lighting another, he sits back contently as the cigarette flares.
"But how-" I try again, but am cut off by Sho's shrugging. He taps a rhythm on the bed sheet, humming a simple tune. Shinji just rolls his eyes, and leaves, slamming the door behind him.
"Kei, I do remember something….. before I passed out. I was rounding around the corner of an alleyway, and heard some guys speaking Chinese, and then I woke up here. Does that help at all?"
"No," I say to him, trying not to alarm him. The truth is, it's pretty bad if you're targeted by the Chinese. Something could be happening…..
Sighing, I leave the room to ask the doctor if Sho is well enough to leave the hospital yet. The doctor, Doctor Wen, informs me that Sho's current stage is still too fragile to be able to leave the hospital yet, and it would be better to wait a few more days before letting him go home. Nodding to the doctor, I find my way back to the room to Sho.
"You can't go yet, Sho," I tell him as I enter, watching as he pouts like the kid he is.
"Damn well I'm leaving!" Sho fumes angrily, "It's hard enough to stay in a room where the walls are as white as the food tray!"
"You can't go."
"I'll leave with or without your help, Kei!" Sho retorts as he manages to scramble out of bed.
This win-lose (or, rather, lose- lose) situation strikes me as a hopeless one, so I stay silent as Sho struggles to change his clothes and collect his few items of possession, wincing in pain all the while. The stubborn look on his face reminds me of his stubborn younger self, much like me when I was younger. I don't have many memories of when I was younger, but the most important ones stay with me…
"Never mind, then," I say to him, and start for the door, "I'll tell the doctor that you're leaving anyway, despite your wounds."
"What about my wounds?"
"The doctor says that they haven't healed enough yet for you to-"
"Oh, screw the wounds," Sho mutters furiously, "I'm leaving now," he declares, marching ahead of me to the door and wrenching it open.
Upon leaving the hospital, the doctor from earlier rushes to stop us, attempting to reprimand Sho. Sho ignores him, much to my displeasure.
"What is it?" I ask the doctor. He pushes a card into my hand.
"Sho's not well enough to leave. But if he must, call me if he gets worse." The doctor tells me.
"I will," I reply, and leave with Sho in the lead.
Out of the hospital and in the car, me driving, we pass several traffic lights in silence. Sho's almost asleep now; his head leaning back onto the seat, drifting off into blissful peace. But it appears that he's not really all that tired, because he asks me:
"Kei… if anything happened to me, would you… help me?"
And then, I am astounded by the cheesiness of it all, yet touched. It's not every day when you see Sho so truthful. Most of the time, there's something like a wall between us, not letting much from getting through to each other. By this time, I'm so caught up in my thoughts that I barely notice the faint whisper of "Kei?" from Sho. However, even a sound this small would alert me (even while driving).
"Yes," I hear myself saying, "I think I would.
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