The Last Wish - 15
~*~
Nuriko smiled. "Maybe we should start a club, ne, Hotohori?"
Amber eyes flickered to him in surprise, and one slim eyebrow lifted. "A club?"
They'd climbed out the convertible, were leaning side-by-side against the driver's side door to wait for Tamahome, Miaka, and Tasuki. Nuriko shrugged, folded slim arms over his chest. "Sure. We'll call ourselves...LOA."
Slim lips bent into a slight smile. "LOA?"
"Uh-huh. 'Lovers of Overeaters Anonymous."
Hotohori laughed, a chime of gold through the clouds of the day. "Should Tamahome be a part of this club, too?"
"Tama-chan? Nah, he's not really 'anonymous.'" He grinned. "Besides. You know he'd want to be president."
A soft smile. "I see your point."
There was a brief, companionable silence. Then...
"Ne, Hotohori?"
"Hm?"
"Thank you for...for being there--" He blushed, looked away. "--when no one else was. I really appreciate it."
The younger man smiled, opened his mouth to reply--and broke off at the screech of wheels and the angry slam of a car door.
"Damn it, Nuriko!" Tamahome shouted, stalking over from the BMW with Tasuki cackling just behind him. Miaka moved a little more slowly, hands clasped in front of her as she walked. Nuriko frowned at her for an instant, wondering if the uncharacteristic silence might mean she was angry over what had happened at the empty lot...but, then she smiled, and he knew that, somehow, it was all right.
The violet-haired boy grinned, offered Tamahome an evil wink. "What was it you said last time you lost, Tama-chan? Something about, 'you only win because you have a nicer car,' and 'if only I had Hotohori's BMW, I could beat you.' Something like that, wasn't it, Tama-chaaaaan?"
A low growl worked its way from Tamahome's throat.
Miaka giggled--a welcome sound after all that had been going on with her lately. "Let's go inside," she said, cheeks rosy with laughter. "It's close enough to dinner time to eat, ne?"
Grinning, giggling, wanting to eat... Nuriko smiled. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Miaka."
A cloud seemed to pass over Miaka's face at the words, as if from some dark memory--but, it cleared remarkably quickly, flickered away beneath the touch of afternoon sunshine and a warm, fragrant breeze. "Un," she said. "But, I'll feel a LOT better after I've eaten!"
They trouped over the walk and up the front steps, and for a few minutes, everything was all right.
~*~
Keisuke was waiting for her just inside the door.
He looked distracted, eyes flickering blankly from one spot on the wall to the other, fingers kneading together in front of him. He barely seemed to notice the door swinging open, or the entrance of Miaka, Tamahome, Hotohori, Tasuki, and Nuriko a moment later.
The group stopped dead in the entryway, the uncanny feeling of Something-Is-Wrong washing over them all at nearly the same instant. Suddenly afraid without quite knowing why, Miaka took a hesitant step forward, touched a finger to her brother's shoulder.
"O...Oniichan?"
Keisuke's eyes lost the blank stare, flickered to her face. Now that he turned to her, she could see that his eyes were red and bloodshot as if from crying, and that he seemed somehow to have aged since the last time she saw him. Her hands began to shake. "O-Oniichan, what is it?" Her voice was low and wavering, and the beat of her heart was thunder in her ears. Thum-thum. "What's wrong?" Thum-thum. Thum-thum. "Did something happen?"
Keisuke's voice was unnaturally soft. "Miaka, come into the living room with me. I need to talk to you for a minute."
Thum-thum. Thum-thum. Thum-thum.
From behind her, there came the thud of boots on linoleum, and a moment later, the familiar strength of Tamahome's hand was on her shoulder. She glanced up at him, found his face drawn and tense, and nodded. Whatever it was, Tamahome would be with her when she heard it. Yes. Yes, with his strength...she could survive it. Whatever it was.
"No," Keisuke said suddenly. "Just...just you, Miaka."
Her heart surged up into her throat, tried to flee the pain it knew was coming. Thum-thum-thum-thum-thum-thum! A scream in her chest.
Silently, she followed Keisuke through the entryway, through the kitchen, into the living room, over to the sofa. The cushions were warm and comfortable, her favorite place to relax, read, watch TV, eat. A normal place. A place where she was safe, where bad things didn't happen.
Keisuke spoke with a voice so low that she had to lean forward to hear him.
---
It was silent for a long time.
"I don't like this," Nuriko said in a low voice.
Beside him, Hotohori shook his head. "Neither do I."
Tasuki spoke, then, his voice too loud and too high. "I don't see what you guys are @#(*&#$ worryin' about. It's prob'ley nothin'."
The flame-haired boy sat just beside Hotohori, leaning against the wall with knees drawn to his chest. Nuriko glanced down at him as he spoke, felt a familiar shudder of fear trickle up his spine. No. No, this was not 'nothing.' This was something. A big something.
Hotohori shook his head. "I doubt it's nothing, Tasuki."
"C'mon, Keisuke's a @#($*&#@$ crybaby sometimes." He shifted a little uncomfortably, cleared his throat. "I'm tellin' ya, it's nothin'."
"No," Tamahome murmured. "Something happened." His voice hardened. "And, whatever it is, we have to help Miaka through it. She's not as strong as she pretends she is."
Nuriko glanced at him. "No," he said softly, surprised to find the his true thoughts rising to his lips. "She's stronger. Stronger than any of us, I think."
Tamahome opened his mouth to reply--
And froze as the sound of footsteps met their ears. They were coming from the kitchen, moving slowly and unevenly, as if their owner were stumbling along drunkenly. They all stared at the doorway with wide, fearful eyes, and Nuriko felt the lump return to his throat, felt his heart start pounding in his chest. As if in a trance, Tasuki rose to his feet, arms hanging limply at his sides, eyes fixed on the door.
Seconds passed. A clock was ticking somewhere nearby, loud as a scream in the silence--tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. Outside, birds twittered, cars rumbled down the road, and a neighbor dog yapped enthusiastically. The footsteps drew nearer.
Tick. Tock. Twitter. Rumble. Yap yap. Tick.
Finally, Miaka appeared in the doorway, looking thin and haggard in the fading sunlight of the afternoon. Tears clung to her cheeks, and her eyes were red and puffy, her hands shaking balls at her sides. She moved as if every step pained her--no, as if every breath pained her. It was a long time before she shuffled her way to Tamahome, gripped his larger hand in her smaller one.
Her voice was low and broken, barely audible. "There was...an accident," she whispered. "This afternoon. While we were in school. It was...it was a drunk driver. A-A boy from school--" A flood of tears suddenly welled up in her eyes, trickled over her cheeks. "A boy from school was driving. He-he lost control of his car. He was going...really fast. He hit...he hit..." She broke off as if the words wouldn't form, closed her eyes and shook her head. "Tamahome," she wept. Her breath came fast. "Tamahome...Tamahome...your...your family..."
Tamahome went rigid. "My..."
"The paramedics," Miaka whispered. "Chue gave them my number, because...b-because he thought you'd be here. Keisuke answered, a-and they told him...th-they told him that..." Miaka fell into Tamahome's arms with a great sob, wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. "I'm sorry, Tamahome," she cried. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry..."
Tamahome's eyes were wide and stricken, his body tense beneath her arms. "Where are they?" he demanded. "What hospital?"
"It happened...so fast," Miaka went on. "There wasn't a...a lot of pain."
Tamahome disentangled himself from Miaka's arms almost violently, took a shaky step backwards. Hotohori latched onto his shoulder as he stopped, trying to steady him, but Tamahome shrugged off the hand, retreated to the door. "What hospital?" he whispered.
The words seeped from Miaka's lips as if out of her control. "Mercy. Downtown."
Nuriko stepped forward. "I'll drive you." He took Tamahome's arm gently in his fingers, pulled the door open with his free hand. A cool wash of air swept in from outside, brushed at the hot tears trickling over the younger boy's cheeks.
"Nuriko." It was Hotohori. He'd moved to Miaka's side, was holding onto her, letting her weep softly into his shirt. "We'll meet you there."
Nuriko glanced over his shoulder, gave Hotohori a brief nod, and then turned, led Tamahome out into the fading daylight. The door clicked softly shut behind them, followed a few moments later by the click-roar of the convertible starting.
"No," Miaka murmured. Her voice was soaked with tears, her words muffled and lost in Hotohori's shirt. "No, Nuriko," she whispered. "Don't go..."
---
~*~
Nuriko smiled. "Maybe we should start a club, ne, Hotohori?"
Amber eyes flickered to him in surprise, and one slim eyebrow lifted. "A club?"
They'd climbed out the convertible, were leaning side-by-side against the driver's side door to wait for Tamahome, Miaka, and Tasuki. Nuriko shrugged, folded slim arms over his chest. "Sure. We'll call ourselves...LOA."
Slim lips bent into a slight smile. "LOA?"
"Uh-huh. 'Lovers of Overeaters Anonymous."
Hotohori laughed, a chime of gold through the clouds of the day. "Should Tamahome be a part of this club, too?"
"Tama-chan? Nah, he's not really 'anonymous.'" He grinned. "Besides. You know he'd want to be president."
A soft smile. "I see your point."
There was a brief, companionable silence. Then...
"Ne, Hotohori?"
"Hm?"
"Thank you for...for being there--" He blushed, looked away. "--when no one else was. I really appreciate it."
The younger man smiled, opened his mouth to reply--and broke off at the screech of wheels and the angry slam of a car door.
"Damn it, Nuriko!" Tamahome shouted, stalking over from the BMW with Tasuki cackling just behind him. Miaka moved a little more slowly, hands clasped in front of her as she walked. Nuriko frowned at her for an instant, wondering if the uncharacteristic silence might mean she was angry over what had happened at the empty lot...but, then she smiled, and he knew that, somehow, it was all right.
The violet-haired boy grinned, offered Tamahome an evil wink. "What was it you said last time you lost, Tama-chan? Something about, 'you only win because you have a nicer car,' and 'if only I had Hotohori's BMW, I could beat you.' Something like that, wasn't it, Tama-chaaaaan?"
A low growl worked its way from Tamahome's throat.
Miaka giggled--a welcome sound after all that had been going on with her lately. "Let's go inside," she said, cheeks rosy with laughter. "It's close enough to dinner time to eat, ne?"
Grinning, giggling, wanting to eat... Nuriko smiled. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Miaka."
A cloud seemed to pass over Miaka's face at the words, as if from some dark memory--but, it cleared remarkably quickly, flickered away beneath the touch of afternoon sunshine and a warm, fragrant breeze. "Un," she said. "But, I'll feel a LOT better after I've eaten!"
They trouped over the walk and up the front steps, and for a few minutes, everything was all right.
~*~
Keisuke was waiting for her just inside the door.
He looked distracted, eyes flickering blankly from one spot on the wall to the other, fingers kneading together in front of him. He barely seemed to notice the door swinging open, or the entrance of Miaka, Tamahome, Hotohori, Tasuki, and Nuriko a moment later.
The group stopped dead in the entryway, the uncanny feeling of Something-Is-Wrong washing over them all at nearly the same instant. Suddenly afraid without quite knowing why, Miaka took a hesitant step forward, touched a finger to her brother's shoulder.
"O...Oniichan?"
Keisuke's eyes lost the blank stare, flickered to her face. Now that he turned to her, she could see that his eyes were red and bloodshot as if from crying, and that he seemed somehow to have aged since the last time she saw him. Her hands began to shake. "O-Oniichan, what is it?" Her voice was low and wavering, and the beat of her heart was thunder in her ears. Thum-thum. "What's wrong?" Thum-thum. Thum-thum. "Did something happen?"
Keisuke's voice was unnaturally soft. "Miaka, come into the living room with me. I need to talk to you for a minute."
Thum-thum. Thum-thum. Thum-thum.
From behind her, there came the thud of boots on linoleum, and a moment later, the familiar strength of Tamahome's hand was on her shoulder. She glanced up at him, found his face drawn and tense, and nodded. Whatever it was, Tamahome would be with her when she heard it. Yes. Yes, with his strength...she could survive it. Whatever it was.
"No," Keisuke said suddenly. "Just...just you, Miaka."
Her heart surged up into her throat, tried to flee the pain it knew was coming. Thum-thum-thum-thum-thum-thum! A scream in her chest.
Silently, she followed Keisuke through the entryway, through the kitchen, into the living room, over to the sofa. The cushions were warm and comfortable, her favorite place to relax, read, watch TV, eat. A normal place. A place where she was safe, where bad things didn't happen.
Keisuke spoke with a voice so low that she had to lean forward to hear him.
---
It was silent for a long time.
"I don't like this," Nuriko said in a low voice.
Beside him, Hotohori shook his head. "Neither do I."
Tasuki spoke, then, his voice too loud and too high. "I don't see what you guys are @#(*&#$ worryin' about. It's prob'ley nothin'."
The flame-haired boy sat just beside Hotohori, leaning against the wall with knees drawn to his chest. Nuriko glanced down at him as he spoke, felt a familiar shudder of fear trickle up his spine. No. No, this was not 'nothing.' This was something. A big something.
Hotohori shook his head. "I doubt it's nothing, Tasuki."
"C'mon, Keisuke's a @#($*&#@$ crybaby sometimes." He shifted a little uncomfortably, cleared his throat. "I'm tellin' ya, it's nothin'."
"No," Tamahome murmured. "Something happened." His voice hardened. "And, whatever it is, we have to help Miaka through it. She's not as strong as she pretends she is."
Nuriko glanced at him. "No," he said softly, surprised to find the his true thoughts rising to his lips. "She's stronger. Stronger than any of us, I think."
Tamahome opened his mouth to reply--
And froze as the sound of footsteps met their ears. They were coming from the kitchen, moving slowly and unevenly, as if their owner were stumbling along drunkenly. They all stared at the doorway with wide, fearful eyes, and Nuriko felt the lump return to his throat, felt his heart start pounding in his chest. As if in a trance, Tasuki rose to his feet, arms hanging limply at his sides, eyes fixed on the door.
Seconds passed. A clock was ticking somewhere nearby, loud as a scream in the silence--tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. Outside, birds twittered, cars rumbled down the road, and a neighbor dog yapped enthusiastically. The footsteps drew nearer.
Tick. Tock. Twitter. Rumble. Yap yap. Tick.
Finally, Miaka appeared in the doorway, looking thin and haggard in the fading sunlight of the afternoon. Tears clung to her cheeks, and her eyes were red and puffy, her hands shaking balls at her sides. She moved as if every step pained her--no, as if every breath pained her. It was a long time before she shuffled her way to Tamahome, gripped his larger hand in her smaller one.
Her voice was low and broken, barely audible. "There was...an accident," she whispered. "This afternoon. While we were in school. It was...it was a drunk driver. A-A boy from school--" A flood of tears suddenly welled up in her eyes, trickled over her cheeks. "A boy from school was driving. He-he lost control of his car. He was going...really fast. He hit...he hit..." She broke off as if the words wouldn't form, closed her eyes and shook her head. "Tamahome," she wept. Her breath came fast. "Tamahome...Tamahome...your...your family..."
Tamahome went rigid. "My..."
"The paramedics," Miaka whispered. "Chue gave them my number, because...b-because he thought you'd be here. Keisuke answered, a-and they told him...th-they told him that..." Miaka fell into Tamahome's arms with a great sob, wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. "I'm sorry, Tamahome," she cried. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry..."
Tamahome's eyes were wide and stricken, his body tense beneath her arms. "Where are they?" he demanded. "What hospital?"
"It happened...so fast," Miaka went on. "There wasn't a...a lot of pain."
Tamahome disentangled himself from Miaka's arms almost violently, took a shaky step backwards. Hotohori latched onto his shoulder as he stopped, trying to steady him, but Tamahome shrugged off the hand, retreated to the door. "What hospital?" he whispered.
The words seeped from Miaka's lips as if out of her control. "Mercy. Downtown."
Nuriko stepped forward. "I'll drive you." He took Tamahome's arm gently in his fingers, pulled the door open with his free hand. A cool wash of air swept in from outside, brushed at the hot tears trickling over the younger boy's cheeks.
"Nuriko." It was Hotohori. He'd moved to Miaka's side, was holding onto her, letting her weep softly into his shirt. "We'll meet you there."
Nuriko glanced over his shoulder, gave Hotohori a brief nod, and then turned, led Tamahome out into the fading daylight. The door clicked softly shut behind them, followed a few moments later by the click-roar of the convertible starting.
"No," Miaka murmured. Her voice was soaked with tears, her words muffled and lost in Hotohori's shirt. "No, Nuriko," she whispered. "Don't go..."
---