scars8
Scars - 8

"That's all for today." Bearded wisdom glanced up thoughtfully from his notes to the slender boy in front of him. "I hear you're going back to school soon."

"Yes, I am."

The psychiatrist set his notes down on his lap, his pencil perched precariously on the edge of the paper, and steepled his fingers together in thought. "Will you be living in the same room?"

"With Mitsuru?" Shinobu's brows contracted slightly, nearly imperceptibly. "I hope so."

"Despite everything?"

"He's my best friend." The words were spoken without venom, although the taste of spite lingered on his tongue.

The doctor made a non-committal noise and shuffled the papers in his lap. "Well, I'll only be seeing you every few days now, Shinobu." The familiarity with which he employed Shinobu's name always made the boy frown. "If you have any problems, call the office immediately or go see the nurse on campus."

"I will."

"Don't forget that you need to be here every Monday and Thursday at 4 please." The papers had migrated from his hands to the old oaken desk that loomed behind him.

"I won't."

"Good." The old doctor gave him what could almost be considered a congenial smile and stood. "I hope your packing goes well."

Shinobu followed suit, standing as well, uncomfortable, and started to the door. "Thank you. I'll see you later, sensei."

The man nodded. "Goodbye," and the door was closed.

~

The headmaster had agreed to let Shinobu come back and finish up the remainder of the semester, Mitsuru mulled, sitting comfortably on his roommate's bed. It had been a kind act, agreeing to let him return, but a little puzzling. Maybe his father had pulled some strings. He would have to do some summer school, but they said they were sure he would be fine. Mitsuru was sure too.

He was anxious. Shinobu was to come home today. He paused. Home? Well, he was to come back to the dorms. For him, that had always felt like home. Maybe Shinobu felt differently.

He stood, idly fiddling with some of the books on his desk. The room was neat to the point where he wouldn't fear to eat off the floor. Of course, he wouldn't have hesitated to eat off the floor beforehand, depending on what had fallen. Shinobu was late. He had spent all day cleaning and polishing and sorting and redoing it all over again if anything was wrong. But finally, thirty minutes before Shinobu was to arrive, he had finally been content with the state of the room. He had washed Shinobu's sheets even, and remade his bed almost as well as Shinobu himself did.

He was fretting. Having Shinobu back would be hard. He knew this. Yet he yearned and feared it at the same time. Having his best friend by his side was something he hadn't realize he needed. Without him, it was like he was crippled, that half of him was wooden and dead. Yet when the other boy was back, he knew he would worry every minute when he simply left the room and even when he was in the room. He resented the lack of congenial casualness that he knew would exist. He wanted his innocence back.

But his carelessness has caused Shinobu's spiral downward. He frowned slightly, setting down the books in his hand. Where was that boy? Had he missed the train? He did not let any worrisome stray thoughts crawl into the alleyways of his mind.

There was a slight rattling of the doorknob and he was instantly alert, adrenaline urged through his veins by a quickly beating heart. Was that Shinobu? He took a step forward to open the door for whoever it was, but it was unnecessary.

Cold green eyes met his, almost at the same height, and a flow of silver hair cascaded over his brow. It was a little long. Perhaps they had not let him have a haircut in the hospital. Mitsuru had been worried about the greeting, but found he could not stop smiling. Even with the fear he could see in Shinobu's eyes, he was just far too happy to have him here. "Welcome back."

"Thank you." A few steps and Shinobu was inside the room, setting down the single bag he had been allowed at the hospital. He cleared his throat and turned, opening his mouth to say something.

To say that Mitsuru pounced on him would be a bit of an exaggeration, but the intent was there. He crossed the bridge of the scant steps between him and his roommate and swept him into a tight hug. He was warm, smelled sweet, and most importantly, he was there.

More than a little surprised, and somewhat reverently, the green-eyed boy gently put his arms around his friend. "Mitsuru…"

"I'm glad you're back," the blond boy murmured, and Shinobu was surprised at how remarkably close the other boy's lips were to his ears. His voice sounded different from this close; sweeter, somehow more delicate.

"I'm glad too," Shinobu agreed, and somehow was sure he meant it. So much out of his mouth had been a lie at the hospital. How's your relationship with your family? Well enough. You talk to your parents on a regular basis? Of course. How do you feel about your roommate? He's my best friend.

The summer heat had died down to a dull throb, a murmur of blood in the ears. It was a little too warm to be holding someone for a long time, but Mitsuru did not let go. He never wanted to let go again.

Shinobu pulled away slightly, touched by his friend's avid display of affection, but not ready to commit his heart to anything yet. He bent down to start unpacking his bag. "Has it been exciting here as always?" Of course, Mitsuru had visited him whenever he got the chance, but it certainly wasn't the same.

Amethyst eyes lingered on the slender form, and then Mitsuru took a step back, seating himself on the lower bunk. "No."

The other boy glanced up at him, a little surprised. "No?"

"It was dull." The blond's face was rather expressionless, though his brows had contracted slightly.

Shinobu smiled faintly. The boy was loyal, certainly. "Well, hopefully that will be rectified. Unless, of course, it was conducive to finishing your homework."

Now Mitsuru positively scowled. Shinobu's first day back and he was talking about homework? Disbelieving and somewhat annoyed, he shook his head slightly. "Hasukawa and Shun will want to see you soon."

Shinobu pulled several sets of shirts out of the bag, opening up his closet door. "I would prefer not to see them today."

He had expected as much. "All right." His mind was itching with desperate curiosity. Had Shinobu's feelings changed? Had the hospital stay been hard? Why on earth had he done it in the first place? But he kept his lips sealed, watching.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," Shinobu announced rather uncharacteristically. Being at the hospital had trained him in odd mannerisms.

Mitsuru stood, panic lacing his eyes. "I'll come too."

Green eyes gave him a wary glance. "You don't need to."

"No, it's okay." False cheeriness, trying to keep the worried knife out of his voice.

"All right." Who was Shinobu to argue? His foolish actions in the first place had been the cause for this.

Mitsuru trotted to the door, opening it for both of them, and waited until his friend had passed through it, then shut it carefully behind him. He followed behind him like an obedient puppy, albeit a worried one. Strange. He hadn't used this bathroom since Shinobu had left. He had gone upstairs or downstairs, but this one…

He stepped in after Shinobu, keeping his eyes on the floor. Could he still smell the blood?

Had it been really so long ago? He had just poked his head in that day, and it had been the glint of crimson that had first hit him. Incongruous to have such achingly bright red against the baby blue tiles. The intense fear that had seized the center of his chest had been overpowering. Immediately he knew the entire situation.

The scent had hit him second and he wondered how he did not smell it when he was outside, as powerful and overwhelming as it was. It was about this point that his eyes allowed him to take in the scene.

There was blood all over the floor, running through the cracks in the tiles, dribbling languidly into the drain built into the floor. Almost hysterically, he considered how hard this would be to clean, but by this point he was already walking toward the stall from which it was leaking.

The stall was locked.

He hadn't hesitated. Getting down on his hands and knees and contemplating how much blood the human body had in it, he crawled under the stall.

Shinobu had been there, pale, oozing blood from his forearms, collapsed onto the ground. He looked like a broken doll, one that a dog had mauled. Mitsuru had shook as he leaned forward, pressing his fingers against Shinobu's ivory neck, frightened. But a soft weak pulse had met his fingers, and he started screaming for someone to come. Shinobu never stirred. Mitsuru undid the latch and then picked him up, cradling him in his arms, his head against his chest. Hasty footsteps met his ears, and the dorm lady charged in. Without a word, she had retreated to call 119, and then had come back, helping Mitsuru to the door to wait for the authorities. She tried to staunch the blood flow, and rigged up a tourniquet while they waited. It was millennia, eons, eternity, but then someone came and took his best friend from him. By this time, Mitsuru had started to cry helplessly, hard, choking sobs, full of fear and grief. When Shinobu disappeared in the ambulance, the blond boy was taken by the dorm lady to wash up. He was covered in blood. It stained his clothes, his cheeks, his soul. And he had run into the bathroom and vomited.

His mother had come to pick him up that night and he spent the rest of the vacation at home.

"Mitsuru?"

He blinked and saw Shinobu's concerned green eyes watching him carefully. "Hm?"

The other boy eyed him a moment, silent. He knew, of course, what Mitsuru was thinking about. He always knew. "Want to go back to the room?"

"Yeah, sure."

The cadence of their footsteps on the wooden floor was muffled, enveloped in a chilly silence at odds with the warmth of the day. The door creaked a welcome.

"Your homework is on your desk," Mitsuru started anxiously as he closed the door gently behind him. Shinobu's light eyes glanced back toward him and then to the desk, where he rested a hand lightly on the stack of papers. The other boy had brought him most of his homework while he had been in the hospital, so he wasn't going to have to struggle too badly.

"Thank you," he murmured, and then raised his eyes. Tentatively, he offered Mitsuru a real smile.

It was rain on a parched land. Mitsuru's eyes lit up and he smiled back, encouraged. Perhaps this wouldn't be so hard after all.