Estinto
Estinto, (adj): Extinct, extinguished. Directions to play as softly as possible, lifeless, barely audible.
Taichi sat beside Eimi's bed in her partition in the intensive care unit, staring at the cell phone in his hands. It was afternoon now, and he still didn't have enough information to reassure Hikari that Eimi was alright when he broke the news. But as time bled by with no answers, the need to inform her grew more urgent.
What if things take a turn for the worse? What if Hikari loses the chance to see Eimi because I was trying to protect her? Although the ambient temperature was comfortable, sweat trickled down Taichi's forehead. Stop. Shut the fuck up. She's fine. She'll fight.
But what if it isn't enough…?
His eyes slid to Eimi, but quickly moved away. In the rare moments when she regained consciousness, he braved the horror of seeing her more dead than alive. But when she was out, there was no need to put himself through that pain.
Instead, he examined the tiny room created by white curtains. It contained Eimi's bed, two stands overladen with bags of fluid dripping into her veins, a monitor on a swing arm attached to a miniature hard drive, a ventilator, a life support unit with a heart rate monitor, and a few other instruments that he couldn't name. It also contained three folding chairs, each supporting an exhausted man.
Koushiro sat beside him, typing on a laptop. Initially, his ability to work at a time like this infuriated Taichi, but he eventually recalled that this was his way of handling stress. Even so, Koushiro's detached composure annoyed him.
He was still a better companion than Jyou, who occupied the chair on the opposite side of the bed. After the first few hours, Jyou fell into a doze with his hand around Eimi's, waking whenever medical personnel entered the room or Eimi stirred. His catnapping skills were next level, and Taichi suspected it was a survival skill for health professionals.
Not for the first time today, Taichi frowned at their connected hands. About two years ago, Eimi had called him in tears because she had casual sex with Jyou. Was it possible that they were together again? While he respected her decisions, the possibility that she had shut him out of important parts of her life frightened him. His grip tightened on her hand. He was in danger of losing her on a physical level; right now, he didn't have the courage to wonder if she had already slipped away on an emotional one.
"Welcome back, Eimi." Taichi startled into attention at the sound of Jyou's voice. Eimi's eyes were open, clouded with an increasingly familiar haziness. Taichi set her glasses in place, trying not to hear Jyou's explanation of where she was and what was happening. He hated watching a woman who often understood him before he finished speaking, and sometimes before he even started, struggle to absorb the millionth repetition.
Koushiro lowered the screen of his laptop, but didn't close it. Taichi took a deep breath, talking himself out of lashing out at both of them. His training as a diplomat and the knowledge that his volatile mood was caused from grief and worry were all that saved him.
Taichi greeted Eimi, then nudged Koushiro with his elbow. The redhead jerked, hinting that the blow was harder than Taichi had intended. Eimi's attention was on Jyou, so Taichi leaned towards Koushiro and whispered, "Say something. Have you spoken to her at all today?"
Koushiro's shoulders rose as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I, I don't know what to- What can I possible say that would-"
"Of course you can't say anything that will fix this. But you can let her know you're here for her."
Dark eyes slid away from his, already returning to the computer screen. "Of, of course, but how-"
The white curtain nearest Eimi's feet fluttered and parted, and Amano Chika, Eimi's doctor, entered the unit. Taichi turned his focus to her, forgetting about his sputtering friend. Chika was a tiny woman with an impassive expression. She wore a white coat, always carried a tablet, and kept her hair in a tight bun.
"Hello, Anami-san," Chika said. Jyou slid his chair back as she advanced, so that she could stand near Eimi's head. "It's good to see you awake. More of your test results came back, and I'm ready to make a diagnosis."
Chika hardly paused, but in that moment, every neuron in Taichi's brain lit with feverish activity. He gripped the seat of his chair, fighting to stay still and silent so he could hear everything.
A tiny smile broke Chika's professional mask. "You were lucky. You were septic for a very short period before the paramedics began working on you. Your lungs sustained some damage, but other than the results of sepsis that we're treating, everything else seems fine. We're hopeful that, in time, you'll make a full recovery."
Taichi clenched his teeth tight, trying not to scream or curse or laugh or cry, or whatever the hell his body wanted to do. His eyes burned and bubbled with tears, like a pot boiling over, but he didn't notice; all that registered was hysterical relief. He grinned at Eimi like a fool, crushing her hand and feeling too stupidly giddy to interpret her expression.
"Excuse me," Koushiro said, lifting a hand. "Eimi-san is a vocalist. You mentioned damage to her lungs…?"
Eimi blinked, and it took Taichi a few seconds to remember and interpret their code: Yes, yes, yes! That shell-shocked stupor evaporated. "Ah, shit!"
Jyou and Chika scowled at him before returning their attention to Eimi, almost in unison. "We've identified the lungs as the source of bacterial infection caused by pneumonia," Chika said. "Luckily, damage from this kind of infection is rarely long-lasting. However, I'm afraid it might take several months for your lungs to return to full strength. I can't say I'd recommend trying to sing for a few weeks, at least."
Fuck! That's gonna be hell for her. But she'll get better, and that's what matters. When her eyes met his, wide and panicked, Taichi stroked her cheek. "It's okay. It's going to be alright."
"Are there any lung care tips or exercises you could recommend for her?" Koushiro asked.
"Right now? It's not wise. I'd be happy to send you information in a few weeks, but for now, it's best to focus on general recovery. We'll keep Anami-san in the ICU for another day or two, so we can monitor her. But soon, we should be able to transition you to a normal hospital room and remove the tube in your throat. Until then, please relax and let us know if you need anything."
Jyou stopped the doctor and asked a few questions before she left, but Taichi was too overwhelmed to listen. He grinned idiotically at Eimi, already rehearsing his phone call to Hikari. I have some bad news, but everything is alright…
When Chika left, Taichi leaned over Eimi and patted her shoulder. "Damn it, Eimi! You scared us so goddamned much."
"Thank goodness you called the ambulance when you did, Yagami-kun." Jyou smiled at Eimi with a tenderness that would have slammed Taichi into high alert if he weren't so focused on leaving the room.
"I'm sorry about your lungs," Koushiro said. "Jyou, do you know anything about the damage the doctor mentioned? Is there anything we can do?"
Taichi excused himself, squeezed Eimi's hand one more time, and squished past Koushiro's chair and out of the partition. His first priority was to pull himself together, or at least cry it out privately. The second was to call Hikari and let her know that somehow, miraculously, everything was going to be fine.
Hours Later
Hikari sat in her living room, writing a lesson plan at her coffee table. Although she had been working for a while now, only a few fractured ideas were scribbled down. She kept staring from her wrist watch to the front door.
Despite her fixation, she twitched when it finally opened. Takeru entered the apartment with a grin, but Hikari already recognized the signs of post-workday exhaustion. "Tadaima," he called as he kicked off his shoes.
The return greeting stuck in her throat, and no amount of hemming cleared it. The fatigue fell from Takeru's eyes as they latched onto hers. "What's up?"
She reached for the electric kettle on the coffee table, intending to pour tea into Takeru's cup. She preferred a traditional pot, but this one held the liquid at temperature, and she wanted to offer something hot. Of course, now that he was here, her hands shook too much to risk lifting the kettle.
"Sit with me?" she prompted, wondering if she sounded as sick as she felt.
Bright blue eyes shifted from boyish to alert. He crossed the living room slowly, never looking away from her. The sofa dipped beneath her when he sat, and she imagined herself plummeting much further than the inch that she actually moved.
"Hikari?" She didn't realize that she had grabbed his hand until his fingers closed around hers.
"Onii-chan called." Takeru watched her, waiting for more, but she hesitated. Instinctively, she understood how the news would impact him, and she couldn't bring herself to deliver the blow.
"Hikari? Please, what- Is he okay?- Are you okay?- Is it the baby-"
"We're fine," she said quickly. No amount of stalling would make this go away, and Takeru was beginning to panic, so she bowed her head and relayed Taichi's message about Eimi. When she felt him trembling, the reaction she had feared, she looked up.
Tears dripped down Takeru's face, falling onto the new suit pants that Sora had made for him. "We, we have to go see her," he choked. "Shit! There's work tomorrow, and an exam-"
"We can't." Takeru froze and fell silent, and she took the opportunity to wipe his eyes. He leaned into her touch and allowed her to lower his head until their foreheads touched.
"Eimi-nee will be contagious for a while," she whispered. "Onii-chan said I should stay away for the baby's sake. And since you'll come home to me, you can't be exposed, either."
"We have to see her!" His voice broke mid-sentence, and something inside of Hikari snapped with it. She threw her arms around him, fighting the rising urge to cry.
"I want to go, too. But… Onii-chan is right. We have things to do here, and he's there with her now. Koushiro-san and Kido-san are there, too. We'll visit when Eimi-nee is healthier and stronger. Right now… Apparently, she… She's really out of it."
Takeru backed away, but not enough to break her hold. "It doesn't matter if she can't remember we were there. It will help in the moment."
"I know." Hikari rubbed his lower back in soothing circles. "Koushiro-san promised to set up a video chat for us. We'll still see her, Takeru."
He exhaled slowly and leaned into her for support. Hikari propped herself against the back of the couch, trying to hold herself up with the added weight. "I, I don't- Your brother said she was touring again? Why?! She just came back a few weeks ago!"
Hikari willed herself not to react, but every muscle tensed in tandem. Takeru called her, and she steeled herself with a deep breath. He had no idea how much the answers he wanted would hurt him, and she was at a loss to gently explain. Suddenly, she wished she had prepared alcohol for this conversation instead of tea.
After a few false starts, Hikari grabbed her phone and typed Eimi's name and Fear in Love into Youtube. She handed the device to Takeru and huddled against him. Takeru stared into the screen with dull, dazed eyes as the music video began.
It opened with Eimi seated and playing guitar, not quite looking at the audience. Hikari knew from her earlier viewing that the camera would soon pan out to a few couples acting out the song, occasionally returning to Eimi. Right now, she needed to watch Takeru and monitor his reaction when the first lyric was sung. Only a few seconds passed, but it felt like an eternity before Eimi began, "There is fear in love…"
Takeru whispered an obscenity and jerked the phone closer to his face. Hikari threw her arms around him, squeezing his middle. "It's okay," she whispered. "Eimi-nee will be okay."
"This is- Why-" His trembling progressed to shaking, and Hikari made shushing sounds as her eyes blazed with stinging heat.
"F-for us. For our, our baby. She listed you as a collaborator and made a bank account for you and toured to promote this single. Onii-chan said the song is a hit and has made a lot of money-"
"Money?!" he rasped. "I don't- She didn't ask- I have a job now! I'd rather- rather-"
"Shh!" Hikari directed his golden head to her shoulder and moved the phone to the coffee table. He curled up around her, as if he intended to fit on her lap, like one of her students. His crying shifted to wrenching sobs, and she rocked him gently. "She'll be alright. Everything will be alright. It's not your fault, darling."
Hikari stroked his back and tried to listen to the song that had changed all of their lives, but the beautiful melody drowned beneath their crying.
Three Days Later
Jyou meandered towards Eimi's hospital room, rehearsing their pending encounter in his head. In his experience, Eimi never stuck to the script he wrote for her, but the task was a needed distraction. Magma churned below his harried exterior, seconds away from bursting free.
He hadn't seen Eimi since that terrible day in the ICU. Three days later, she was declared stable enough to graduate to a normal hospital room. He took his time locating her new space, pushing down that molten pressure. He found her door long before he felt ready to engage her.
He glanced into the room and saw that Eimi was alone, as he had requested of Taichi and Koushiro. She was lying down, propped by a mound of pillows. Although she held an open book, her eyes were shut. He rapped on the door frame with his knuckles, and she startled and dragged herself up a few centimeters.
The corners of her mouth rose as he walked into the room. Jyou stared into her eyes, the only living part of her pallid face. Her light usually gleamed through them like noon sunshine, but now it was dim, a guttering candle beyond glazed glass.
"Jyou?" Her voice was rough and beaten, but it was the odd upward inflection that marred the sound of Eimi speaking his name. He froze mid-stride when he realized that she wasn't sure it was him, even with her glasses on. His trembling hands snapped into fists.
He fell into the chair by her bedside and found that it was still warm, likely courtesy of Taichi. Her hazy expression confirmed what he already guessed; she was drugged up. Her hands moved sluggishly towards her face, and Jyou grabbed them before she touched the tubes in her nose.
"I don't need them," she whined. "I can breathe. Tell the doctor-"
Jyou forced his gritted teeth apart. "You need them. Don't touch." He didn't realize how hard his tone was until she edged back. Dark eyes stared at his face, likely trying to gauge his mood.
"Um- It's a long way for you. Thanks for… thanks." Jyou nodded, not trusting himself to speak. After that harrowing first day, he had returned home to wrap a few things up at work. He had two free days now, and he had warned the shift manager that he might need to use family care time after that. Mercifully, because of his stellar attendance and willingness to cover empty shifts, the man hadn't probed.
Still, if visiting Eimi was going to make him feel like this, then maybe he wouldn't use the emergency time off after all.
"If you don't mind, I'll stay at your house tonight." Both Taichi and Koushiro were crashing there, which was difficult when everyone was edgy. He was planning to hide out in her studio, an area typically off-limits to guests.
"Sure. How's Aegis?"
Jyou straightened his frown. "I don't know. I came here directly from work."
She leaned closer, and a flicker of something familiar finally passed her face: anxiety. "Will you walk him? And pet him? He'll be lonely. Oh, and food and water…"
A cold, bruised hand brushed his. Jyou froze, torn between anger and a tenderness that needed to remain buried. When her finger curled around his pinky, Jyou wrapped her hand between both of his. "Don't worry. Koushiro's taking care of your dog."
"Really? He doesn't seem like the animal type. Aegis likes him, though." A tiny smile lifted her lips, and Jyou desperately wanted to return it. It would be so easy to shift to cheering her up. Did he really need to carry out the difficult conversation he had planned?
He stroked her hand and forced himself to look at her full-on. After years in the hospital, he should have been able to comfortably observe a patient. But this was Eimi, hidden within a weakened body and a drug-addled mind. His only comfort was that she was still in there, somewhere.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
He instantly recognized the fake smile she plastered on. "I'm okay! I'm out of the ICU and everything. Taichi and Koushiro-kun were… Um, w-weren't they here?"
And, just like that, the lava burned through the dam of his restraint, shooting up and out. "You almost died!" he cried, voice cracking. "You are not okay. Do you understand the recovery process ahead of you?!"
She flinched back, and Jyou forced himself to stop and breathe deeply. "I'm sorry," he said at last. "Please, just- Don't pretend that this is okay. I know you; that's probably how you ended up here in the first place."
"W-what?" Her head tipped to the side, but she lacked the strength to hold it up. Jyou cupped her cheek and gently rolled her back in place on the pillows. "I, I'm sick. It just happened. I can't make myself septic."
The hospital room swam, melding into a thousand he had seen before it. He braced himself against the bed and blinked, fighting to see the woman in front of him instead of the safer images his brain presented: other patients, people he wanted to make well, but didn't personally love. "You didn't make yourself septic, no. But answer me honestly… Have you been caring for yourself these last few months?"
"Huh? I'm sorry, I don't…" Although confusion was evident on her face, Jyou identified the flicker of doubt in her eyes.
"Did you ignore anything wrong with your body leading up to this? Muscle pain, fatigue, forgetfulness, disorientation… Those are all signals that you should rest before whatever's weakening you progresses to something much worse. That's when you go to the doctor, not when your cousin finds you unconscious!"
Cringing, she inched back, slipping her hand out of his. "I, I- Sepsis is an infection? I can't do that to myself-"
"No, but you can weaken your immune system over time. That's exactly what you did, isn't it? You were heartbroken about Koushiro, so you went on tour. Then he broke up, and you took care of him, which was probably too much emotionally and physically. Then I hear about this single and this local tour for your cousin- from Koushiro, not from you- and-!"
Through pure strength of will, he forced himself to stop and calm down. Although he was furious with Eimi for spiraling so far down, he didn't want to hurt her feelings. The goal was to convince her to care for herself properly going forward. "How many times," he whispered. "How many times did you hurt? How often were you breaking inside? I'm a doctor. I'm your friend. You can call me any time. There was no reason for it to come to this!"
She tried to lean towards him, but only rose inch or two before collapsing back on her pillow pile. She grimaced as an ashen tint darkened her face. "I, I- I did call you? I texted- My phone, where- Where…?"
Though her words were a frazzled whisper, they seared Jyou like a bolt of lightening. His brain replayed all of those nights that he had stared at his mobile, trying to summon the courage and energy to call, or even return a text. On the rare occasion when he managed a reply, it was banal and impersonal. The anger fizzled, dissolved, leaving him in a stupor of shock and guilt.
How could he blame Eimi for struggling alone after ignoring her attempts to reach him, especially when he knew all along that she was suffering alone? He knew, and yet… I decided my feelings were more important.
Bile rushed up his throat, which he swallowed with a squelch. Eimi leaned over enough to lose her balance, and he caught her when she toppled towards him. Her hand landed on his side, and his body understood that she was trying to hug him before his brain did. He threw his arms around her, pulling her in, bridging the gap for her.
"I'm sorry." He breathed in against her hair, expecting her familiar smell but finding something unknown, the result of the IV fluids and the changes in her blood chemistry. He clung harder, needing the sensation of her body against his, but she was too thin, not nearly soft enough. Growing desperate, he pulled back enough to look into her eyes, the deep brown orbs he would recognize anywhere. They were dull, glassy, and watering with pain.
"Eimi," he whispered. "P-Please, I- I'm sorry- Say something, please-"
But of course, even her voice, her most distinctive feature, was foreign now. It rasped against his ears, a source of pain on her end and his. "You needed space, right? Because…"
Because you turned me down and somehow, I'm still not over it. Because you're in love with Koushiro. Because we're all floundering and yearning, and nobody is happy.
"I'm sorry. I don't care about space anymore. No matter what, I want you in my life. Can, can you forgive me?"
She tilted enough to kiss his cheek, and Jyou released a breath in a deep sigh. She was trembling, struggling with the effort to remain upright, despite the fact that he was supporting most of her weight. Jyou eased her back down on the bed. Her hair flared out when she landed, draping over the pillows in dark, messy strands. An image overlaid this one: a younger, much healthier Eimi beneath him, adoring eyes locked on his. His breath caught, and he gripped her hand hard.
"Have… Have you told him?" Jyou asked. Her eyelids fell, and for a second, Jyou interpreted it as a 'yes,' using their code from the ICU. His heart faltered, but it soon became clear that she was simply struggling to monitor her facial expressions.
"Koushiro-kun?" She sighed, and Jyou slid closer, fighting the urge to smooth away the worry lines on her forehead. "No. He's, he's too…" She paused and scowled, turning her free hand in small circles. Jyou hastened to complete the thought that she couldn't piece together.
"He's adjusting. You don't want to push right now."
"Mm." She produced the saddest smile he had ever seen, and the chambers of his heart twisted. Though he was no longer capable of scolding and finger-pointing, it seemed more important than ever to make his point. Jyou leaned closer, gripped her shoulder, and caught and held her gaze.
"I know you want to help him. I know you want to take care of your cousin and Takaishi-kun. But please… You have to take care of yourself. Even if there is no permanent damage from your sepsis, the recovery could take anywhere from weeks to a year. It's going to be difficult for you to do everyday things for a while."
Her eyes widened, and Jyou forced his mouth shut, cursing mentally. This wasn't the time to pile worries on her. Hell, she was probably struggling to follow the conversation. But so many questions were bouncing in his head, and he needed to voice them. Eimi would hardly be able to stand, possibly for weeks, and her friends were spread out and had demanding careers. Who would cook for her and walk her dog? How would she bathe and use the restroom?
Eimi watched him with a heavy expression, likely seeing more than he wanted her to. At last, she swallowed with a grimace and said,"Jyou... Could I have died?"
His hand jerked, taking hers with it. It was important to keep her calm, and yet the thought of lying never crossed his mind. "A few more minutes- perhaps so few as fifteen- and there could have been permanent damage. And if Yagami-kun had slept through the morning..."
"Huh." Her head tipped, and an almost dreamy quality filled her eyes. Jyou fought the urge to inch away. He glanced at her IV; had it just released more pain medication?
As he stared at the medical devices, a suspicion whispered from the deepest parts of his brain. He tried to dismiss it, but as usual, his worry was stronger than his restraint. "Eimi, I- I know I shouldn't ask, but… Knowing that you've pushed yourself so hard for so long, I have to… Do you, do you want to live?"
"I don't want to die," she said, her tone unruffled and matter-of-fact. Jyou felt a muscle tick in his cheek.
"That's not what I asked." When she shook her head, signaling that she hadn't understood, Jyou sighed in exasperation. "Eimi, I've spent enough time listening to you argue semantics. I know you know the difference between wanting to live and not wanting to be dead."
Her face screwed up with concentration. "Living and existing?" He nodded, and melancholy slowly stole over her face.
"I do want to live. What about you?"
The next line in his rehearsed script withered in his throat, and the rest crumbled with it. If his legs weren't wobbly, he would have jumped to his feet. Instead, he gaped at the woman who had wrecked him while desperately ill and unable to move.
Liquid filled her eyes, and Jyou ignored the instinct to slam the 'call nurse' button and walk away before she exposed him further. She made a feeble attempt to wipe a tear away, but it smeared over her cheek, leaving a shining smudge. "Wanna make a deal?"
He stared, senseless, stricken. Eimi sniffled, then winced, likely in response to a pain in her throat. "I'll take care of myself if you will, too."
In an instant, Jyou's world crumbled and burned, as if a meteorite had struck his immediate radius. He knew without looking that he was too thin, that his muscle definition had wasted away. How many times this week alone had he skipped meals and proper sleep? All of that abuse stretched back for months, years, exacerbated by his unwillingness to lean on the people around him, just like-
Everything- Every single thing I've criticized you for!- I've done it, too. It wasn't you I was angry with when I came here. Jyou didn't possess vocabulary for what he was feeling, but the compassion in Eimi's eyes melted his resistance to those emotions. He parked his elbows on her bed, buried his face in her lap, and began to sob.
"It's okay, Jyou," she whispered. "We're both okay. We'll both get better."
"I'm sorry," he choked, but the words didn't sound like human speech. When he spoke again, Eimi shushed him and stroked his hair. He tried once more to rise from the hysterics overtaking him, to shift from a helpless wreck back to a rational man, but he was already too far along to recover.
He wrapped his arms around her as best he could and surrendered.
Author's Notes: I agonized over this one, guys. EMOTIONS. Thankfully, next chapter is less FEELS and more, "What the hell is Eimi gonna do when the hospital releases her?!"
I sprained my ankle really bad yesterday, ahhhh! I can't walk; I've been hobbling around using my husband as a crutch. Happily, I have him to care for me until it heals up, but what will Eimi do?
Thanks for reading! Please remember to review!