Breathe

by Sandfire Kat

Loss is defined as the sensation of grief one feels when they have lost something or someone of great value. But grief can mutate and transform into something deadly, something much more toxic. It can grow in size and swallow someone whole, changing them from the person they once were into someone of a polar body. How can you help someone move on when they don't even want to live?

14. Chapter 14

A/N: Thank you for your feedback! It means so much to me! :)

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Resurfacing into consciousness was slow— almost painstaking. The first thing Hiro became aware of was the dull, throbbing pain seated directly behind his eyelids. As he grimaced away from the stomach-turning pain, he gradually grasped and put together the rest of the puzzle. He could feel the too-soft plush of a blanket underneath him. He was aware of faint noises of movement and activity from somewhere in the house.

He was curled up on his side, but not nearly as tightly as he had been when he was falling asleep. Though they had stopped by the time he had lost consciousness, Hiro's face was streaked over and sticky with tears that he hadn't wiped away. His throat felt hollowed-out and dry, and prying open his eyes was an exhausting effort despite the fact that he was just waking up. Eventually he managed the feat and, albeit reluctantly, Hiro pushed himself up into a sitting position.

At first he just stared straight ahead. He had fallen asleep shortly after he had come into the bedroom. Though he wasn't sure on the time of night he had jerked out of his dream, Hiro knew that he had slept for far too long. He had probably gotten more hours of sleep last night than he had the entire week put together. Despite the fact, his eyes burned and still threatened to close in on themselves. He gave a loud yawn as he forced his foggy mind to gather itself back together. His eyes roved dully, but before he could turn and look over the dimly-lit room, he landed on something else instead.

It must have fallen off while he was sleeping. Tadashi's hat was strewn a little ways off on the bed, probably about a foot away if not more. The thing was slightly creased and crumpled. Normally Hiro would handle the thing with the utmost care; if it was ever put down off of his head, the boy made sure that it was perfectly arranged so that it would appear untouched. In comparison to that, the hat looked like a complete mess.

The sight was enough to sharpen Hiro back into full awareness. He jerked forward, his arms flying out as he hurriedly snatched up the hat. With rapid movements, the young boy smoothed over the cap, his face flushing with anxiety. His hands were trembling as he tugged at the felt, a certain kind of heat flooding through him as he came to a small fold that took more than a split second to correct. His breathing picked up ever so slightly, as if he was in the middle of a harsh sprint. But eventually, to his sheer relief, the young boy managed to right the hat back to its original condition.

Once Hiro was finished, he let out a shivering breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding back. His shoulders sagged, and he leaned back with a small grimace. The boy's thumbs stroked lightly over the hat's brim; his gaze was heavy and weighted down in sorrow. He turned the hat over in his hands, surveying every inch. It was perfectly fine again. The smudges of imperfection were gone entirely. It was in the same condition as it was when Tadashi had worn it to the Showcase. But the child couldn't stop his hands from moving, turning the thing over and over in his grip. He couldn't stop his eyes from scanning every inch of the cap. He couldn't stop the rising bubble of panic that was building in the back of his throat.

For a long moment that was all there was. Just looking over the hat as unnecessary dread prickled underneath his skin. He didn't know how much time passed or how long it was before the silence was broken. But eventually it was, and Hiro's whole body went rigid as his head snapped up. "Good morning, Hiro." The boy didn't move at first. He just stared straight ahead. But his lack of response didn't seem to faze the voice as it just persisted on. "You have slept for nineteen hours. During the course of the night however, you woke up a total of twenty-four times. Most of which you were incoherent. Do you feel rested after your sleep, Hiro?"

Hiro didn't reply. He just turned and looked over his shoulder. Baymax had gotten off of the floor apparently, because he was currently hovering directly at the boy's bedside. Even as Hiro jerked, flinching backwards a little bit, Baymax still remained cool and collected on the outside. He blinked slowly and tilted his head to the side, repeating his question with a patient sort of lilt to his voice. "Do you feel rested after your sleep, Hiro?"

"I'm not…it's—" He took a moment to gather himself, huffing out a little bad-temperedly from his nose. He shook his head and wished that it would clear faster. Despite how much sleep he had gotten, his mind was still hazed over. "Nineteen…nine— how long— what time is it?"

"It is approximately 7:13 in the morning."

Silence congested itself in between them. Hiro let out another sigh, grimacing as he reached up to put Tadashi's hat on. He tucked it down as far as it would go, almost hiding underneath its cover. He made a move to get up— he was starting to think that maybe it would be better to lay down on the couch. Maybe then he wouldn't feel as…small? It wasn't the right word, he knew that. But it was all he could manage at the moment. But when he started to wriggle off of his perch towards the floor, he suddenly stopped short, freezing mid-lean.

Baymax immediately reacted to the boy's change. He took a step forward, about to say something else. But Hiro wasn't anywhere close to paying attention. The boy doubled over, his arms going down to hold his stomach as he turned and half-jumped, half-fell down to the ground. He stumbled repeatedly, unable to keep himself from tripping as he rushed for the bathroom. Heat flooded over every inch of him, and his movements held a sense of panic as he scrabbled at the doorknob. He heard Baymax turn and shuffle quickly after him, but the boy wasn't able to truly focus on anything other than the fact that his stomach was currently spasming and twisting in on itself.

He wrenched the door open and no sooner did he fall to the floor and hunch over the toilet, did his stomach force itself up. He closed his eyes tightly, his throat lighting on fire at once. There was nothing at all in his stomach— he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten something. But he was retching regardless. The young boy heaved and jerked, pain creased over his features as he dug his nails into his knees to try and distract himself from the agony. Baymax's eyes were trained intently on the boy, and as Hiro choked and gagged, he wriggled into the bathroom, walking over and leaning down.

Baymax's hand rose, and it emitted a soft, blue light. As he reached over and placed it gently on Hiro's back, the boy became aware of a cold, chilled feeling centering itself there. It offered the smallest sense of relief, but it did not help much at all. Hiro was unable to stop the waves of sickness that rammed into him, and the teenager was quickly being covered in a hot sheen of sweat. Ages seemed to stretch on— it felt like hours before he stopped, but really it couldn't have been more than a minute at the most.

When the sickness finally subsided, Hiro was left shaking and swamped. He sat backwards limply, leaning against the bathtub as he curled his knees up to his chest. He rested his head down and took in slow, shivering gasps. Baymax was not deterred, only turning and resting his hand on Hiro's neck instead. The cold feeling helped to curb his stomach, and at first, Hiro was almost grateful for the touch. But quickly, he came back to himself.

The teenager fell to the side, reaching up and swatting the robot's arm away with a scowl. "I told you: don't touch me," he all but snarled. He pressed his back flush against the tub, trying to get a sense of chill from that instead. He grimaced and reached up to press a trembling hand against his temple. His mouth tasted awful; the tang alone nearly made him seize forward again. The only reason that he didn't was probably because he just didn't have anything left to force out. All he was left with after the episode was a throbbing head and a nauseated feeling.

If anything at all could be said about Baymax, it would be said about his inability to take a hint. "I must take care of you. You are my patient." With that, he started to lean forward again, reaching out as if Hiro's last outburst hadn't happened at all.

He bristled. Smacked the hand away a second time. "Get off!"

Again, it went right over his head. "You should not eat for at least two hours. You must give your stomach the chance to recover so that you will not become prone to vomiting a second time." Hiro growled in the back of his throat, scowling down at the ground. "But after you recover, you should try and drink clear liquids such as: water, ginger ale, broth, or low-caffeinated soda. These will help you return to equilibrium easier. But for now you are advised to lay down and try to relax."

Hiro groaned. He shifted and pushed himself up to stand, his knees a little weak as he stumbled. He felt awful, in way more ways than just one. His arms folded in to wrap loosely around his waist, as if he was holding himself together. And, staggering, he tried his best to barge past Baymax. But he was too weak at the moment, and the robot just blinked, looking down at him calmly. Hiro's gaze hardened, and he shot the robot a look filled with daggers. "Get out of the way," he snapped tartly.

Baymax tilted his head to the side. He seemed almost…confused. Which was stupid to think, Hiro immediately admonished himself. He was robot; he didn't have any feelings. Hiro was just relieved when Baymax stepped aside. The boy immediately shouldered past him, his strides a little shorter than they normally were. He purposefully bypassed the bed and collapsed in a heap on the couch. He pulled his knees up to his chest, feeling like he was being tossed around by rocking waves.

For a while, he was able to bask in a relieving sort of silence. It made it harder not to focus on the pain twisting in his gut and writhing through his mind, but at least it was void of any talking. That is, until it was grievously broken yet again. "Hiro?" The boy grimaced, the boy ducking his head down even further. Baymax had trailed dutifully after the young child, and now he hovered at his side like a puppy. Again. But the robot's next words immediately trumped the boy's rising frustration. It replaced it with something much colder. "Is your hat alright?"

At first he didn't react. After a moment, he turned just slightly to look at Baymax from the corner of his eyes, not even turning his head. "What?" His voice was like ice. It was brittle and freezing, laced with hostility that was almost tangible.

"Your cortisol levels rose dramatically when you saw the state that your hat was in upon awakening. Even now, your stress hormones are significantly more active than normal."

"So?"

Baymax blinked. Yet another moment of silence stretched until it was sliced apart for what felt like the millionth time. "It is a source of stress for you. I am here to ensure that you are able to recover— not only physically but mentally as well. It is my job to keep you as stable and content as possible." When Hiro didn't respond, he just went farther. "Is it because of Tadashi, Hiro?" The boy went absolutely rigid. Baymax noticed this right away. "You seem to experience quite a lot of anxiety and apprehension when your brother is mentioned. This is quite common, but you should—"

"Get in the corner." Hiro's voice was taut and clipped. He didn't look back up from his knees.

"Hiro, perhaps if you—"

The boy pushed himself up, too quickly as his stomach twisted. He choked back the ill feeling that swamped through him. The boy instead focused instead on the swamp of anger that slammed into him like a punch. His arm shot forward, the boy jabbing a finger almost accusingly to the other side of the room. "Get away! Stay over there! Stay over there and stop talking!" he screeched.

Baymax fell silent. He turned slowly, looking from Hiro to where the boy was pointing. For a moment he hesitated, and Hiro's throat swelled as he wondered whether or not the robot would try and object to the order again. But eventually he turned and obeyed. He shuffled back and wormed himself into the corner. He did not try to say anything more. He just turned so that he could still remain in the corner but also keep a close eye on Hiro at the same time.

Hiro's breathing was a little ragged. His jaw was locked backwards and his eyes were smoldering with that same look of odd hatred. When he spoke next, still jabbing a finger over to the corner, his voice was nothing more than a low growl. "And don't talk about him. Don't you ever talk about him! Do you understand!?" He bit down on his lower lip and shook his head, already turning and retreating back into his curled-up state. He reached up and covered his head with his arms, resembling a turtle who was shying away into its shell. "…Just stop…"

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"Hiro?" Baymax spoke up, looking over at the boy on the couch who still hadn't moved.

No reply.

"Hiro, it has been exactly two hours and thirteen minutes since you had gotten sick. You should consider taking in fluids."

Nothing.

Baymax turned. He disappeared into the bathroom, and after a few minutes, he reappeared with a glass of water in his hands. He waddled over to the couch and stopped over Hiro. The boy was a small ball curled among the pillows. He almost blended in. "Hiro, please drink this." It was more of a plea or a request than a demand. Or maybe Baymax was just too far functioned to suddenly start bossing him around. Hiro did not look up again and he spoke again, extending his arms slightly to hold the glass a little closer to him. "Hiro. You are very dehydrated. Drinking water will help you."

Nothing.

"It will make you feel better."

Still. Nothing.

Vitals were fine. The boy was stable. He was just mute.

"Hiro? …Hiro?"

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There was a small knock at the door around noon. Hours and hours of silence and inactivity had proceeded the interruption, and though Hiro was not roused, Baymax turned at once. He did not hesitate before starting over to the door. And when Hiro did not make a move to object or even look up from his knees, Baymax reached out and opened it. He blinked as recognition registered. Across the threshold stood the four friends that had started all of this in the first place.

Honey Lemon had been the one to knock, and when she looked into the room, her eyes were heavy and alarmed. "Baymax? Is everything okay?"

The robot knew the time— it had been five hours since Hiro had woken up. And the boy had hardly moved since then. "Hiro slept for nineteen hours, though he had woken up twenty-four times during the night. He awoke at 7:13 this morning and proceeded to get sick. I informed him that consuming anything would be unwise until two hours after his episode. Yet since then when I have attempted to give him water, he has refused to speak or move." He blinked, shuffling to the side and looking over to where the boy was on the couch. He had moved now, Baymax realized. But only so that his back was to the door and the others. "His vitals are stable, but he is severely malnourished and dehydrated."

Fred grimaced tiredly, reaching up to wipe at his face. "Hiro…" His voice was hardly a sigh.

Honey Lemon looked just as pained. "Hiro, this isn't going to help make you better. It'll only make you worse…"

Gogo's stare was harsher than anyone else's. Her eyes were narrowed, and her jaw was set backwards in a hint of anger. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, and the girl looked as though she was just barely holding herself back from speaking. Wasabi was much more controlled, and he was the first to take a step forward so that he could enter the room. "Hiro, buddy, we came in to talk to you. Okay? Can you…I don't know, can you turn around or something?"

The boy didn't budge. Gogo jerked forwards a little bit, opening her mouth as if to give out a snap. Honey Lemon's arm flew out at her side, and the blonde was quick to restrain her friend. The shorter of the two girls leaned back into her hips, her stare hot as she just watched the scene unfold instead. But Hiro was as unmoving as stone. Honey Lemon cleared her throat and, her arm dropping down at her side, she too followed Wasabi's lead and edged inside. "Hiro? Hiro…we've made a decision we thought you might want to hear."

Hiro still didn't react.

Fred spoke up from the entrance. "We decided that we're not gonna celebrate Christmas yet!"

With how chipper he tried to make himself sound, Hiro's lack of response was even more accentuated.

Honey Lemon was wringing her hands together in front of her. But she followed suit with Fred and attempted to make her voice a shade brighter as she tried to speak up as well. "Christmas is tomorrow, and…well, at first we thought it would be okay to have it like normal. But…we've been thinking. And we've decided that we're going to have it later. So that…I mean, maybe by then we'll be able to enjoy it more." You'll be able to enjoy it more. That was what she really wanted to say, but she knew that it wouldn't be a good idea. Biting down on her lower lip, she hedged on carefully. "Don't you think that's a good idea?"

Gogo bristled at the silence that continued to meet them. "Hiro, this will be a lot easier on everyone if you just try a little bit more." The boy didn't even twitch and she held back a huff. Honey Lemon eyed her friend warningly, and the blonde felt a small twitch of relief at the fact that her friend adjusted to keep her voice a little bit gentler. "We all know that this situation isn't the best to be in, and we're sorry for putting you through it without any warning, right? But this is the way it has to be. Unless you want to be shipped off somewhere else."

Honey Lemon decided to try again. Her voice held the smallest trace of fear as she spoke though, as if she was frightful of making Hiro even worse. "Think about Aunt Cass Hiro…" The boy didn't reply, but she could have sworn that he curled up a little bit tighter. Encouraged by the phantom hint of reaction, she went on. "She was a wreck, Hiro. You really upset her and put her through a lot. Don't you care about that?" She paused, contemplating. "She's waiting for you to get better. She's hoping that it won't last long. Think about all that's happened— don't you owe it to her to try and get back to your old self?"

The words were met with nothing besides the stifling silence of the bedroom.

Fred cleared his throat. His voice dropped into a whisper so that Hiro wouldn't overhear. "Guys, let's go. He'll talk and stuff when he's ready, right?"

Wasabi hissed back: "We can't just let him waste away in here though."

Though Honey Lemon seemed uncomfortable, she shook her head. "Baymax is here. That won't happen. And…it is just the first day, after all. We can't just…expect him not to be upset. He needs time to think about everything. I think Fred's right; he'll come around when he's ready." She turned and filed out of the room. Wasabi was hesitant, but he did the same. Fred looked at Honey with a grateful smile in return for her support. Everyone seemed on the same page, but as they stepped out, Gogo blew out her cheeks, still seeming ticked off.

They all stepped out and closed the door. However, doubt was still prominent on Wasabi's features. "You sure Baymax can handle this?" he asked. "He doesn't seem to be all that…enforcing."

Honey Lemon shook her head again. "He doesn't need to be enforcing. That's not the point. We want Hiro to get better, and he won't if we're yelling at him and forcing him to do stuff. I was up last night reading about situations like these…we need to be careful with this. Hiro won't get better if we just yell at him, and that includes Baymax. If we just bully him he'll just keep this up out of spite."

Gogo huffed. "But we need to knock some sense into him!"

Honey Lemon was adament. "He'll come around when he's ready."

The other rolled her eyes. "And when will that be?"

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"Hiro? …Hiro, it is currently three in the afternoon. Your body needs nourishment and liquids."

Nothing.

"Staying in the same position for a prolonged amount of time causes stress and tension in the muscles. You should get up and walk around to try and alleviate any pain you could be experiencing."

…

"Hiro, it is wise for someone in your mental state to try and distract yourself. Laying here will not help you. People diagnosed with depression should try and remain active and follow a schedule to keep their attention focused on other things. Staying like this will not allow you to do that."

…

"Hiro, you should drink this glass of water. You are very dehydrated."

…

"Hiro, this behavior is not healthy."

…

"Please drink the water."

…

"Thank you."

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"Hiro, it is time for dinner. The others would like for you to join them."

…

"You need to eat."

…

"Hiro?"

…

"Hiro?"

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Knock, knock. "…Hiro?" It was Wasabi. "..Hiro, are you awake?"

…

"Hiro, come on, buddy. You've gotta come out at some point." A long pause. "I know you're upset. And you have every right to be. But you can't just stay in this room forever. You missed dinner, but Fred said that maybe we could make some dessert? Maybe cookies or cake? Would you want to come out and help for that? I'm sure it'd be fun."

…

"Look, just because we're not celebrating Christmas tomorrow, that doesn't mean that it's not sad that you're all alone now. Technically it is still Christmas Eve. And…you don't want to be all alone for Christmas Eve, right? Wouldn't you much rather be out having fun with us?"

Hiro shifted just slightly. But he still did not make an audible reply.

There was a long stretch of silence. There was the smallest rising hope that maybe Wasabi had decided to leave and quit trying. But after a moment the other spoke up again; though his voice was much quieter and harder to hear, it still managed to leak through the wood of the door regardless. "Hiro…just because Tadashi is gone now doesn't mean you have to be too."

Footsteps began to fade away, and after a long moment it was assured that Wasabi had left.

Hiro looked up from his knees. Baymax turned at once to look over at him, tearing his gaze away from the door as he blinked rapidly. "Your serotonin levels are very low. In contrast, your levels of stress and thyroid hormones are much higher than they should be."

The boy didn't respond. He just ducked his head down again, his eyes shutting tightly as Baymax registered a sharper-than-normal intake of breath. The young boy's shoulders jerked up in down in a hiccupping kind of pattern; his face tinged red and tears were already streaking down his cheeks. His breathing escalated into hyperventilation, and Baymax immediately went into action as he heard soft sounds of half-concealed sobs. Hurriedly he emerged from his corner, scurrying over to the couch to bend over Hiro's small shape.

"There, there," he soothed gently, softly rubbing the boy's shoulder. Immediately, Hiro jerked his hand away, swatting it aside as he turned and buried his head all over again, all but seething in deep anger and even deeper sorrow. He was quieter now with his gasps, but Baymax was still plainly aware of the boy's state. He pulled his arm back, blinking as he looked from his hand to Hiro, suddenly at a loss of what to do. After a pause he sat down, staring at Hiro intently. "It will be alright, Hiro," he assured regardless of the boy's actions. "Do not worry. Everything will be okay."

Hiro shook his head, but kept it down all the same. He twisted and turned away, his throat on fire as he withheld sobs that, if not stifled, would have been loud enough to be heard from Honey Lemon and Wasabi's rooms down the hall. He pressed his mouth down into the crook of his elbow, ignoring the pain that his arm screeched in as he heaved.

Again, Baymax tried to offer reassurance, but the boy didn't try to listen in the slightest.

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Hiro scrabbled with an air of desperation, his eyes round and stricken as he tugged and pulled. The effort was sapping him of whatever little amount of strength he still had by this point. His face was creased over in effort and pain as he dug his fingernails into the wood; but despite his struggle, it was clear that he was getting absolutely nowhere. The window was glued shut— it had to be, right? It couldn't be this stuck! Or at least…it couldn't be this hard to open. He locked his jaw backwards and struggled to put his back into it.

"Hiro?" The boy stifled a harsh groan of frustration at Baymax's voice. He didn't turn, though his scowl deepened significantly. The robot was standing back over in his corner, having been shoved and yelled back there for what seemed like the millionth time. But the young boy was acutely aware of the stare that was currently boring a hole through his back. "Are you attempting to get the window open?" The question was asked even though the answer should have been fairly obvious. Hiro had been here going on five minutes tugging and jerking fruitlessly. Baymax tilted his head, and after Hiro didn't speak, he spoke again. "You are making no progress, Hiro. As it is, you are not allowed to leave the house."

Hiro turned slowly, his hands curling into tight fists. When he spoke, his words were nearly spat out through clenched teeth. "What do you mean: I'm. Not. Allowed?"

"You cannot leave this home. I have been given very clear instructions. You are not allowed to leave until the others give you permission to do so. As of this moment, they have told me that you are not permitted." Baymax turned and looked over at the window. "That is why the windows are locked from the outside. And that is why I am supposed to make sure that you stay in eyesight at all times." He reiterated himself. "You are not allowed to leave the house."

Hiro let out a loud yell, whipping back around and slamming his fist into the glass. It gave a dull thud— unharmed. He doubled back, scowling as he flew over to his bag, which was still lying where it had been thrown down by the door. He dropped to his knees, leaning over and ripping the zipper to the side as he delved into the luggage. Baymax watched, turning and walking closer as Hiro began to claw through the bag's contents, his eyes both enraged and desperate at the same time.

"Hiro? What are you doing?" Baymax asked. Hiro didn't reply, but his movements carried with them a sense of rushed urgency. He wrenched out shirts carelessly, only focusing on jackets and pants as he stopped just long enough to shove his hand down into their pockets. He rooted through each article that he yanked out, and when he came up with nothing, he growled loudly, seething as he just tossed the clothes away. He was gradually making a mess, but he did not stop long enough to even glance anywhere other than the bottom of his bag. Baymax studied him closely. He bent down. "Hiro?"

"Leave me alone," he growled, tossing the clothes over his shoulder as he scrabbled through the pockets. He turned and shot a glare over at the robot. "Go back to your corner."

Baymax looked from the boy to the jacket he was now holding. It was about the third one since he had started tearing through the duffel. "Hiro, what are you trying to find?" The boy just shook his head, closing his eyes briefly and letting out a hiss. After a moment he let out an angered growl, turning and just tipping over the thing entirely. And once everything was on the floor, he started his search all over again. The robot stood by while Hiro dug through the pile of clothes as if it was dirt. "Hiro, we have made sure that there is nothing left," he informed the boy promptly. "If you are looking for any pills or narcotics, you will not find any."

Hiro slammed a hoodie onto the ground, closing his eyes tightly and letting out a yell as he reached up to dig his fingernails into his temples. Frustration was beginning to literally burn underneath his skin. He wanted to scream his lungs out, he wanted to run away, he wanted to do…he wanted to do something. He wanted to do something, and that was exactly what he couldn't do. He couldn't do anything here. His eyes burned and he sat up straighter, his arms falling limply back down to the ground. His throat burned and he let out a huff that came out much thicker than it was first intended to be.

Baymax remained peppy. "Do not worry, Hiro. It will be alright. Would you like to talk? On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your mental state of mind at the moment?" Hiro turned, watching despondently as, on Baymax's chest, the series of faces sprung into light. They ranged from a yellow grinning face, to a flinching red one. When he didn't reply, Baymax only repeated his question in a brighter tone of voice. "On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your mental state of mind at the moment? It is important for you to understand that you can confide in me."

Hiro looked back down and reached over, nudging uselessly at the mess of clothes that was surrounding him in an almost-perfect semicircle. He bit down hard on his lower lip. He shut his eyes, trying to ignore the all-too-familiar burn seated there already. He didn't speak for a moment; when he finally did, his voice was worn and deflated. His shoulders hunched forward, as if he was in pain. He shook his head, reaching up and pressing the heel of his hand into his forehead. "You're so annoying." The words were a small growl. He shook his head and turned, glaring up at the robot in an almost accusing fashion. "You don't even know me. At all. Stop acting like we're friends or something." He got up and began to pace, rubbing at his arms painfully as he glanced around the room. Suddenly the cavernous space seemed much too small. It was suffocating.

Baymax was not perturbed by the words. He just took a moment to absorb them before he replied. "I do know about you, Hiro. I know that you are four foot, eleven inches, and that you have a slight allergy to peanuts. You are fourteen years of age, and you currently live with your aunt as your parents passed on when you were very young. Your favorite color is red, and your favorite movie, as of four months ago, is Iron Man." As on four months…what? What was…? "You are a decent soccer player, you graduated high school at the age of thirteen, you can be antisocial, and you tend to prefer a high-caloric diet with things such as soda or gummy bears."

Hiro opened his mouth, trying to search for something to say. Before he could grasp anything, though, Baymax was sweeping on. "You like to read comic books in your spare time, but not as much as you enjoy building and creating things. You have a much higher level of intelligence than any other child your age. You have been called a 'prodigy' by some, but you do not wish to go to college and further your education. Rather, you prefer to build robots and fight them against other ones." He blinked. "I must admit I do not see the point to the hobby, either."

The way he said this grated Hiro's nerves, and he jerked, tensing. At the same time, though, he could not hold back a flush of anger as he scowled. "Look, just because Gogo or Fred told you a bunch of stuff about me, that doesn't make us friends." He huffed, silently fuming as he continued to walk back and forth, rubbing his arms. His bandages scraped painfully against his stitches with the motions, but he ignored it. It didn't matter— it was a minimal detail. "It just makes you ridiculous and annoying."

"Your safety and well-being is my concern, Hiro."

Hiro gave a laugh. But the way it came out sounded more like a noise of jittering, pent-up anger. His arms went up to run his hands through his hair, and he shook his head again. The way he was walking and the way he held himself, the boy looked half-crazy. His eyes were distant as they flickered around the room for something. He wasn't even sure himself what he was searching for— he just needed something. He looked half-crazy. "Your concern. It's not your concern. It's your programming."

He twisted around to look at the robot. His words were rushed, his breathing coming across as minimal gasps as he spoke quickly. "You're a robot— you don't have feelings or thoughts or concerns. You have nuts and bolts and a titanium skeleton! You're nothing but— but air and metal! Stop pretending like you care or that you're worried or that you want me to be some kind of friend for you because you're just a robot! Do you understand?"

Baymax didn't reply; he just stared at him. But Hiro wasn't scrabbling for a conversation. To be frank, he had no idea what he was doing. "You're nothing but wires and cables hidden under a huge balloon! You run on charging batteries, you short-circuit when you get overloaded! You're nothing!" He reached up and shoved his hands wildly through his hair yet again. "You're absolutely nothing! You're just a robot, you're just a robot, you're just a robot!"

His words carried with them a sense of unknown gravity. The way he spoke almost made it sound as though he was trying to convince himself of something, though Baymax could not logically guess as to what it was. Weakly now, his face falling, the boy drooped. He resembled a flower that was bending over the weight of raindrops, slouching forward as his shoulders hunched. He closed his eyes and let out a loose sigh, shaking his head. He looked down at the ground. More out of the desire not to see anything else. "I just…" He grimaced and looked down at his hands, curling them and uncurling them repeatedly. "I…I don't remember what I was trying to say." Frustration lit up the boy's eyes. His head was aching— he couldn't grab hold of a single thought for very long before it dissipated in his hands.

Baymax was still standing off to the side, just observing as Hiro skittered back and forth across the room. It was a moment before he said anything. "Confusion and fogginess of mind is a common symptom of withdrawal." Hiro shot him a glare, but once again Baymax seemed to have absolutely no filter whatsoever. Dryly, the young boy suppose that he hadn't been programmed with such a feature. "It is very normal for a person to undergo such effects. Other effects include things such as vomiting, irritability, sickness, an increased sense of anxiety, trouble sleeping, poor concentration, antisocial tendencies, depressed mood—"

"Oh my God can you not shut up for like five seconds?" Hiro asked in a swift exhale.

Baymax tilted his head to the side. "Do not fear, Hiro. You will pull through this. You are very smart— you can do anything you set your mind to."

"Ha." The laugh was scathing— it lacked humor entirely. He turned and shot a harsh look the robot's way. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and he turned over towards the bed, wondering how many times he would wake up during the night if he tried to go to sleep right now. Yet he knew in the back of his mind that the effort would most likely just come up short regardless. He was filled with a jittering sense of impatience— it was what caused his hands to twitch, and his feet to pace. He felt like he couldn't stay still for very long lest he explode, or at the very least break down. He felt like breaking off into a sprint, but at the same time he felt weighted down with lead-like exhaustion. He couldn't discern one feeling before it blended into another.

Regardless of the swarm against his already-aching head, a wry smile passed over his lips, the expression not reaching his eyes. He flopped down on the bed. Though as soon as he touched the comforter, he could feel more pent-up energy swell in his limbs and joints. It wouldn't be very long at all before he was just forced to get up and start pacing around the room all over again. For the moment, as if trying to stifle the feeling, Hiro curled up slightly, tucking his knees to his chest and ducking his chin down. He eyed Baymax with a freezing stare, his smile gone. "That's a laugh."

Baymax stirred. "My words were not intended to inspire humor."

Hiro shook his head. He rolled his eyes and twisted so that his back was to the nursing robot once more. When he replied, his voice was a small rasp, barely able to escape out of his mouth in the first place. "I can't do anything anymore." There was a small gap of silence, in which Hiro anticipated Baymax to interject. He didn't. A smile came over the boy's face but this time the sadness was palpable in the gaze; it conveyed thoughts and feelings he would not be able to communicate even if he was given a lifetime for such a task. "…I couldn't even manage to kill myself right…"

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"Hey, you uh…you know that building's still being held off."

"…What?"

"You know. The uh— the Krei Industry thing? The new installment that they've been working on. It's been months and they're still stalling any more like…production, you know? It's weird."

"And I'm supposed to…care about this?"

"Well, not care I guess. Just…something to think about."

"Right."

"It's stimulating conversation."

"Is it?"

"Well, it was intended to be. You're kinda ruining it now, though, so…"

Fred shrugged, dropping the topic as soon as he had picked it up in the first place. Gogo was clearly unimpressed— the girl was watching him with one eyebrow raised, as if to silently ask him whether or not he was certain that he wanted to try this line of dialogue with her. The two were in the kitchen, Fred sitting on a barstool in front of a tall island and Gogo standing across from him. They weren't making anything— there was a separate, much larger and more capable kitchen aside from this one where the cooks and servants would typically prepare meals. This was just mainly for looks— a façade of a place mostly intended to linger around in and chat with friends. Maybe make a cupcake while you did it.

The place was mostly empty. Since it was Christmas, the staff had been dismissed for the day upon Fred's order. Wasabi and Honey Lemon had taken off early this morning to go back to their own homes. Near one or two, they would come back and Gogo would leave for the evening herself. Fred of course didn't need to leave. If he could visit his dad, let alone talk to him, this entire situation wouldn't have manifested.

It was kind of surreal. Usually Christmas was packed to the brim with people in your house, obnoxious music playing deafeningly-loud over speakers. Usually there would be presents and laughing and family and cookies and…well, Christmas things. Now there was nothing. The house was silent and there wasn't even a star put on the tree yet. They had decided to stave off festivities until Hiro was better, so that he could enjoy it all just as much as he would have had Tadashi not died. But suddenly the idea just came across as sad. At least, today it did. But that was only typical, probably.

Fred looked down with pursed lips at his hot chocolate. He had barely touched it and by now, there was a circle of steam ridging underneath the mug. It was getting colder by the second, thanks to the freezing temperature that was permeating in from outside. He mostly made this in the first place just to keep his hands warm. As the thought crossed his mind, he leaned over and wrapped his grip around the cup again. He was silent for a few minutes more before he decided to try again at holding a conversation. After all, besides watching twenty-four hour reruns of 'A Christmas Story' on television, what else was there to do?

"You think she'll call sometime today?" he asked, his voice layered with hesitance.

Gogo did manage to perk with this. "Who, Aunt Cass?" Fred nodded, and she shrugged. "I dunno; maybe. Probably." The girl took a step back and leaned down, looking at the rows of cabinets on her side of the island. After a second she pinpointed the one she wanted and opened the small door, reaching inside and wriggling out a small blender. Once she set it on the counter she went and started for the fridge, apparently on her way to make some kind of a smoothie. "You know, there is one detail of this entire plan that you overlooked. Frankly, I'm kind of impressed that I can only think of that one at the moment."

Fred straightened. "Wait, what? What do you mean?"

"Second Nature has a website, Fred. And they have e-mail. If Aunt Cass read the fine print of that thing, she'll realize that at some point, she's supposed to get updates on Hiro and how he's doing out there. Doing…I don't know, whatever they do." She paced back to her spot, now hauling a number of fruits and a jug of milk. "She's supposed to be able to send letters too. Granted, they tell you when to do that so maybe she'll just be waiting all this time. But you have to give her more credit than you are. She swallowed everything so easily in the first place because of the situation."

Fred nodded slowly. "And?"

"And? And the longer that Hiro stays here, the longer that Aunt Cass is able to clear her head. The sooner she clears her head, the sooner she realizes the gaps in whatever we're going over here. You know?" She shrugged, turning and loading up the machine. Ice was needed for it too, and she doubled back to get that. "I mean, hopefully that's a worry for a later time. I'm just saying that we're on thin ice here, and it's only going to get thinner from this point out. If we keep going at the rate we're going now, and we don't try and work with Hiro a little bit more, then—"

The girl wasn't able to finish. Before she could, she broke off, her eyes catching on something off to the side. She straightened, and as an odd look settled over her expression, Fred swiveled around in his chair, a trace of apprehension flickering in the back of his gaze. And his slight worries turned up founded as he registered the two standing in one of the entryways of the kitchen. Baymax was the first to catch Fred's gaze— it was kind of hard not to notice the huge robot. The robot blinked warmly and raised up his arm, offering the pair the smallest hint of a wave. "Good morning."

Fred returned the greeting. Gogo mumbled something incoherent.

Attention transferred to the boy that was standing in front of the robot. He looked horrible. He looked sick and nauseous— like he could keel over at any minute. Bags were dark and black underneath his eyes still, despite the fact that he had slept so long the other night. The way he stood made it seem like he was hurt or something, and that he was just trying to stand in a way that would ward off any extra pain. He looked hunched over and awkward. His eyes were raw and biting as he looked straight ahead, and Fred's smile came across pinched as he offered the young boy a grin. "Hey, Hiro!" When Hiro didn't offer a reply, he went on regardless. "Merry Christmas!"

The young boy sighed in the back of his throat. "You said we weren't doing that today."

"Well, we're not, I guess. But that doesn't change the fact that it's still today, right?" Fred asked.

Hiro fell silent.

Baymax took up initiative. "Hiro slept for a total of two hours and nineteen minutes last night. Urges to relax and fall asleep went unheeded. He is slowly adopting prominent signs of withdrawal. He has gotten sick a total of three times, and he has been complaining of a headache since 4:01 this morning. I administered a mild dosage of pain relief, but it seems to be failing to work." He looked down at the boy, but Hiro was scowling off to the side. He refused to look up and meet his gaze. So the robot just looked back at the two. "I have persuaded Hiro to come downstairs and eat. He is very weak and requires nourishment."

"Oh." Fred blinked and looked over at Gogo. The girl was still quiet, just staring at Hiro with a look wiped of emotion. Hurriedly, before Hiro noticed he was being gawked at, Fred stood up from his stool. "Oh— oh yeah! Yeah, we can totally…uh, you want me to cook something? Like...pancakes? Or…I could make cereal." Hiro turned now, his gaze training itself onto the older teenager. And, flustered, Fred started to stumble a little bit over his words. "Do you— how about…you want ice cream?" Hiro blinked slowly. "I can make you ice cream, I've got like…I could find some ice cream." Fred was wide-eyed. "…Gummy Bears?" His voice was a small squeak. "I can get you some man, just give me like an hour."

"Fred," Gogo sighed, reaching up and rubbing her temple with a cringe.

Baymax interjected. "Hiro requires foods that are easy to digest. His stomach is very sensitive." Hiro was silently fuming by now, but he remained the same. He did not try to leave or throw in some barbed comment. Fred wasn't sure whether or not that was a good sign. "Someone with a high chance of illness should only intake bland-based foods. Such as toast, bananas, applesauce, or crackers. These are more likely to decrease the chances of expelling the meal shortly after eating."

Fred blinked. He seemed frazzled, and that was completely unlike him. Nevertheless, he nodded quickly. "Yeah, sure. I can find that. Just…hang on, give me a second." He turned and doubled back. He exited the room, probably booking it off to somewhere specific. The layout of the house was not memorized yet— it wasn't even really all that understood in the first place. Gogo could just look after him and wonder where he was maneuvering.

Once the boy left, silence settled itself back over the room, as well as severe awkwardness. Gogo, her arms still folded over her chest, gave a small sigh and looked down at the blender. It was still filled with fruit and ice and a little bit of milk. The lid was still off to the side. She reached over and plugged it in. Every one of her small movements sounded amplified in the tense atmosphere that was now hanging over them. Hiro was staring off into space, unfocused. Baymax, after a moment of pause, turned and looked down at Hiro to once again focus his attention on his patient.

After a long beat of silence, Gogo finally took a sharp inhale. "So. You're up, then."

At first she wondered whether or not he would even reply. Then: "…I've been up."

"Well, yeah, but you've refused to come out of your room up until now." Gogo turned and looked over at Hiro and waited for him to say something. He didn't. She gave a small sigh and looked down, tapping her fingers on the marble counter for a few heartbeats. The girl cleared her throat. "So…did you want to do something, then? I mean, we're not doing the whole Christmas thing today but we could still do…something."

"I don't want to do anything."

She nodded slowly. Her tongue stuck out into her cheek. She kept moving her head up and down, and a touch of something distantly akin to anger leaked its way into her features. It was another gap before she tried to speak again. When she did, she could not help but witness her voice sharpen just a little bit. "So this is how it's going to be then? You're not even going to try in the slightest?" Hiro didn't speak, and she looked over at the boy, her eyes slightly narrowed. The boy's expression was drawn. In seeing her glare, the boy began to scowl himself, which did not help the girl's attitude. She bristled just slightly. "You know we're just trying to help you, Hiro, right?"

The boy gritted his teeth and jerked his head in a shake. "Is that what you call this?" His voice was scratchy and hoarse. "Is that what you call fencing me up? Telling me I can't leave? Having Baymax hover over my shoulder? You said this was all so that I wouldn't go to a hospital! You said this was better! But it's not!" Thanks to how dry it was, his voice scratched and hitched repeatedly. It sounded as if he was trying to talk right after screaming for three hours straight. "This is so much worse!" His breathing was hitching, and Baymax edged closer to him, obviously noticing that the boy was slowly losing grip on himself. "I hate it here! I don't want to talk and I don't want to stay here! I hate this place!"

Gogo, surprisingly, was not fazed. Her voice was steady when she replied. "Because you've obviously been around the house. You totally haven't just stayed in that one room. Refusing to budge."

Hiro's glare was acidic. "I don't have to stand here and listen to you yell at me."

She shrugged. "That's true— you don't. But you know what, you should. Because you know what else? Aunt Cass didn't deserve what you put her through."

Silence followed those words. Absolute silence. Hiro jerked backwards, like he had just been slapped. Gogo was still composed, and she just met his taken aback stare with her level one. When it was clear that Hiro would not reply, she went on. "I mean, you know that…right? She didn't ask for anything you did to her. And you forced her to take it anyway. You need to realize that. Because until you realize that, you won't be able to get anywhere. You can't make this seem like you're the victim here. Or at least…not the only one."

Hiro was unnerved. "I didn't do anything to her," he objected lowly.

"Is that what you think?"

"It's what I know."

Gogo scoffed. "Right— I forgot. The young Hiro Hamada: a feat of intelligence that knows absolutely no bounds. You know, Hiro, it's okay not to know everything. But what's not okay is to sit by and pretend that you do. Alright? Because you seem to not know what you have done in the slightest. You need to get your head out of the clouds and back onto your shoulders, and that's why you're here. That's why you have Baymax and that's why you can't leave this house. Because you need to face everything. Whether you like it or not."

"There's nothing to face." Hiro remained adamant.

"Then you're even more confused than I thought you were."

Hiro had started to advance. They were much closer now, yet Gogo was still retaining her cool front. "Listen! I didn't do anything to Aunt Cass! She was the one who involved herself! I was doing what I had to do— she was just forcing herself into the situation! It wasn't anything that I did, she had no business butting in like that!"

Gogo was slightly taken aback. "No business?"

"She's not my mom."

"She might as well be, Hiro!"

"Well I still didn't ask her to barge in! That was her fault, not mine!"

"You can't just expect her not to get involved. She loves you."

"Well I don't love her." Gogo's eyes rounded out at the words, but Hiro ignored it. He just glowered darkly at her, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. "Nothing I was doing was to her. It wasn't to anybody. It was to me. So I don't have to apologize for anything."

Gogo pursed her lips. She seemed to contemplate something for a moment. She turned, her jaw locked backwards as she turned and looked back at the blender. There was another gap in the conversation. Hiro's face tinged red with anger as he glared up at Gogo. Baymax was watching the pair interact with sharp attention; he did not interject. Yet it was clear that he was preparing to do just the thing with how worked up Hiro was getting.

The blender was already plugged in. Before Gogo could hesitate or give herself time to rethink the idea, she reached over and pressed one of the buttons randomly. There were a lot of them to choose from so she wasn't sure which one would be the best. But apparently it was good enough to do the trick. As soon as she pressed the button, the machine's blade immediately snapped into life. It churned up the contents that had been stacked inside of it, and as soon as it was through with that, the contents went entirely haywire as well.

Everything flew out of the blender and sprayed over the room in the nearest vicinity. Gogo was braced against it, but Hiro obviously wasn't. The teenager squeaked, his arms flying up to try and shield himself in some way. But the blender was scooted much closer to him than it was to Gogo, and regardless of his efforts, the blender's contents were forced out of their container, and a good majority of it splashed up to cover him.

The entire front of his hoodie became stained with half-pureed strawberries and bananas. And the runoff of milk that had managed to get on him was now making quick work in leaking down to his shoes. Gogo escaped mainly unharmed— she only had a few splashes here and there on her. Compared to Hiro she was free of the mess. The teenager leaned back into her hips, her expression stony as she took her hand off of the button, seeing that there was nothing left that could shoot out from the mixer.

Hiro's eyes were wide. Taking his arms away from his face, the boy turned and looked down at himself in shock. Of course, once that initial emotion ebbed away, he was back to festering in anger instead. He flooded with the emotion, and, hotly, his head snapped back up so that he was glaring daggers up at Gogo. "What the heck!?" he all but screamed. Gogo still seemed blank. She was almost apathetic as she just stared at him. He waved his arms around, as if to accentuate the mess that was currently everywhere on him. A chunk of mashed banana was sliding down his cheek. "What was that for!? You didn't even put the lid on it!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Gogo said dismissively. She turned, eyeing the blender a little skeptically for a second or two. There was hardly anything left inside after all of that. She blinked once and turned back to the boy, her expression guarded. When she replied, her voice was curt and cold. She didn't even bat an eyelash at the mess that was all over the boy. "I was just making a smoothie for myself."

Hiro's mouth was halfway open. Fury still clouded his gaze, and he was obviously trying to grope for something to say. He seemed to come up with nothing though— or at least nothing that would work.

Gogo looked for a paper towel or a rag to start cleaning up the mess that had spilled over onto the counter. She felt Hiro's incredulous gaze burning through her, but she disregarded it entirely. She just offered him another shrug. "Not my problem that you stood too close to the blender."

Hiro didn't say anything. He couldn't.

He wanted to. But he couldn't.

He just stood there, remnants of a now-wasted smoothie dripping off of him as he stared blankly at Gogo. Baymax leaned over, reaching out and starting to dab at Hiro's face— probably trying to get that piece of banana off of him. For once the young boy did not react to the robot's intrusive nature. He just stared, his throat suddenly tight as he looked down. At the mess. At himself.

Suddenly there didn't seem to be much difference.

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A/N: Past me: Ya know what, I'm gonna make this chapter shorter. I don't need to go on as long as I have.

Me now, at midnight, staring at a 14 page long chapter: …Well this is the opposite of what I wanted. :)

Please tell me what you think! My birthday is tomorrow! If I could get the gift of reviews? :D