Chapter 14
Sometimes it's hard to breathe alone
- "Heaven," Live
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Hikaru would remember little of the trip to the hospital for the sedative injected into his arm upon the EMTs' arrival due to his violent terror of them taking away his little brother. Tamaki, however, swore he would remember every word murmured subconsciously under the Hitachiin's breath and the steel grip on his hand during the ride in the back of the ambulance for the rest of his life. The last time he had seen Hikaru cry was after escorting Kyouya from Japan, and even then but minute tears of regret had let themselves fall. Haruhi knew, if nothing else, she would remember the horror on all their faces; and she thought she had never seen Kyouya cry.
Tamaki met them in the lobby of the emergency center with profuse, illogical apologies for the lack of room for more than two in the ambulance, only to be countered by the Ootori's realistic points. Their classic disagreement could do nothing preventative towards the sight Haruhi encountered upon entering the hospital room, however; the oxygen mask and steady pumps of assisted breaths nearly stopping hers in her throat. When Kyouya immediately asked to speak with one of the physicians, she had to wonder if a rare anxiety was part of his choice towards avoidance.
"He's just unconscious, but not breathing enough on his own," Tamaki spoke up regretfully, knowing she deserved to be told yet not wanting to be the one to express it. "They said his blood pressure is dangerously low." Fingers clenched across the edge of the bed, he stared at the monitor on the wall as if pleading the numbers to increase to a safer level.
"Do they know why?" asked Haruhi, taken aback by how hoarse her own voice sounded.
"No... but"—His gaze drifted over her head to the dark-haired man standing next to a doctor in the doorway.—"I think Kyouya does." As if the other had heard, the conversation soon finished. Kyouya followed the sound of the beeping machines to Kaoru's bedside. Tamaki started to speak his name in question, but Kyouya had already reached out to trace the outline of the bed and its contents with his hands. Finally, careful fingers fell upon cool, stiff ones, one of which pinched by the oximeter. Without a word, Kyouya shocked the two onlookers by climbing into bed beside the Hitachiin, laying his head on a shoulder and closing his smoky eyes.
When the initial amazement dissipated, Tamaki smiled as if in secret as his grip loosened, if slowly. As if he knew that Kyouya would take significant care of the other, as he likely did, he allowed himself to step away from the bedside. Leaning against the window ledge, he took out a cell phone and proceeded to press a speed dial. By the French that followed, Haruhi assumed the call was likely directed toward the nanny in explanation of the circumstances.
She herself, after offering Kaoru's still hand a hopeful squeeze, drifted over to the lounge chair that had been pulled out into a visitor's cot upon which Hikaru lay, still pseudo-sleeping silently from the sedative. Finding a place on the edge of the makeshift bed, Haruhi let her head fall into her hands, catching the drops in their palms. She couldn't remember the last time she cried. Almost immediately, warm arms wrapped themselves around her slim frame, and for once she did not immediately push them away.
"He's going to be okay, Haruhi," she heard Tamaki whisper in consolation. Even if she could have found the words, her attempt to respond came out as but a dry sob that only brought him to hold her even closer.
After moments of seeming eternity – it could have easily been hours – another voice broke through the frozen silence, though it was not among one of those she had been primarily expecting.
"Tamaki, call the nurse in," Kyouya ordered softly. "He's awake." Instantly, the arms left, leaving a cold breeze in their place. After pressing the call button on the terminal as they had been previously instructed, Tamaki went to Kyouya's side as the latter sat up but did not stand. In contrast, Haruhi felt the need to wait until the smiling nurse arrived to remove the intimidating mask from her friend's face before approaching, though from behind the other two men's forms she could still see hints of motion, such as the shuffling of asleep feet and fiddling of fingers. The dry coughs that followed were as if their owner had not breathed in quite some time, and would not stop until the nurse brought him a glass of water. Gingerly, Haruhi came over. Kaoru tossed her a pitiful glance as he leaned heavily on Kyouya's shoulder.
"I-I'm s-sorry..." he choked out, rubbing furiously at bloodshot, hazel eyes.
"Don't apologize for being sick," Tamaki assured with his comforting smile. "Of course we're worried about you and want to see you healthy, but it's certainly not your fault." Kaoru didn't respond, but at least his worried glance brought Haruhi to notice the distinct frown that marred Kyouya's face. Before she could find her own words of condolence, the scene was interrupted by an unrecognizable voice expressed in accented English.
"You call this 'perfectly fine'?"
Gazes rose to see a slim figure, one eyebrow raised in dubiousness, enter through the doorway as the nurse left in the opposite direction.
"Börje!" Kaoru attempted to exclaim, though the hoarseness in his voice shadowed the tone of surprised joy. Slowly, he lifted himself from Kyouya's shoulder. The other man strolled across the room to sit down on the hospital bed in front of Kaoru, keeping his blue eyes locked onto the other's hazel ones all the while.
"What did I say would happen if you didn't take care of yourself?" he continued, placing the back of his hand on Kaoru's pale forehead as if to check for a fever. The younger turned on a shameful face.
"You wouldn't take me to the Nanne Grönvall concert..." he answered regretfully.
"Right. It's too bad those tickets will be wasted, isn't it? Hmm... Maybe I'll just take Kyouya. I'm sure he'd appreciate the music." After a sidelong glance at said person, he laughed at the shocked expression that subsequently appeared on Kaoru's face – one that soon mutated into a full-on pout. Börje ruffled the strawberry-blond-peach hair in order to dispel the disappointment. "Don't worry. If you make it up to yourself by the day of the concert, then we can go." As intended, the promise along with the affectionate gestures brought at least some relief to Kaoru's countenance.
"I will," he assured.
"I should hope so," interjected Kyouya, "as much as I'd love to attend the performance." With the clear sarcasm, the others felt free to express their amusement. Then, Tamaki voiced the assumption that had been on most of their minds since the Swedish man's sudden arrival:
"I take it Kyouya was the one who called you here?" He turned to the newcomer with his one of his characteristic smiles and an outstretched hand. Börje happily took the hand and gave it in introductory shake.
"That's right," he confirmed with a polite smile of his own. "You must be 'Lord' Tamaki."
Cerulean eyes lit up in self-pride. "Indeed I am! I'm glad to know that Kaoru has talked about me so much." Overcome with flattery, he didn't notice when the mentioned one rolled his eyes. "'Börje'... is that right?" he continued, testing the pronunciation in the presence of an actual Scandinavian.
The other nodded. "Börje Skjöldebrand," he specified, but upon seeing the distressed look on the blonde's face added, "but you can just call me Börje."
"I, on the other hand, would prefer to be called Dr. Hallestrøm," cut in a deep, unrecognizable voice just then. Heads turned as another Scandinavian man approached, this one sporting the typical lab coat and stethoscope. In turn, he shook hands with both Tamaki and Haruhi. "Kaoru's personal physician, whose guidance to stay out of trouble apparently went unheeded..." He tossed a reprimanding glance at the young man in question, who shrank in embarrassment. By his side, Börje's frown grew.
"Luckily," Dr. Hallestrøm continued, "according to what Börje and Kyouya told me, this incident shouldn't be too big of a deal, and we should just have to run some tests"—and so he began taking Kaoru's vitals—"before we have you back on your feet in no time. That is, if you can promise to keep it that way." Biting his lip, Kaoru gave a slow nod in agreement to conditions that clearly had not been stated for the first time. By the time the doctor had gathered all the necessary data – along with a blood sample, much to the patient's chagrin – and so left to process the information, Börje had wandered from the bed in the appearance of pensive musing with hazel eyes following after him.
"Börje, are you coming back...?" the owner of the trailing gaze questioned in concern once he was no longer occupied by an overbearing doctor. To his surprise, an answer was received neither verbally nor through physical motion.
"Kaoru, how many years are there between us?" was returned instead.
Taken aback by the sudden, seemingly unnecessary inquiry and sensitive nature thereof, Kaoru took a moment to answer, "Eight," even though he knew it far too well.
"How many years have we known each other?"
"Five."
"In those five years, how much has happened? What could happen in eight more? Would you regret the eight years that I've had that you never would? Would you— Would we..." As his voice trailed off into incomprehensible mutterings, Kaoru's brow twisted more and more.
"Börje? I can't understand what you're saying," the latter pleaded, even trying, "Jag förstår inte." to seemingly no avail. Then, abruptly, in but a few, swift motions, Börje marched back over to the bed, cradled Kaoru's head in both his hands, and brought their foreheads together.
"Jag älskar dig. That's all you need to know," he said plainly.
"I love you, too," Kaoru repeated back to him once the initial shock had faded. Whether Börje understood the sob-cracked Japanese or simply embraced the sentiment hanging on the words did not matter.
"Jag kommer alltid finnas här för dig," he whispered.
"Jag med," Kaoru responded.
"That's a promise?" A nod. "And you're going to do everything you can to keep it?" This time, the nod was reluctant, but nevertheless handed over. "So what are you going to tell him?" With a jerk of the head, Börje gestured towards the cot in the corner of the room, where Hikaru was at last emerging from his induced slumber. For once in his life, Kaoru was nervous concerning the return of his twin. "I leave it to you." With one, last squeeze of the hand, Börje drifted away once more. This time, however, he headed with purpose towards the opposite corner of the room, pulling a magazine from the shelves and settling into a lounge chair with it. Following the Swede's guidance, Tamaki gently tapped Kyouya on the shoulder in indication that they should do the same. Haruhi stepped back from the hospital bed as Kyouya slid off of it, and the three of them fell back to sidelines.