silence is golden, rated pg-13. mamiya-centric (garbage challenge). pre-series. 598 words.
(if i am silent then i am not real/but if i speak up then no-one will hear)
"Mamiya?"
Her voice is quiet in the darkness; I grit my teeth as she turns on the light even as I try to force my face to smooth into a smile. "Neesan."
"Good morning, sleepyhead," she says in that same gentle voice that is more motherly than sisterly, and I struggle to focus on her form as she crosses the room in the too-bright illumination she brought in with her. "You've slept in a little, haven't you? Didn't you remember that Nemuro-san has come to see you this morning?"
Oh, the professor – like the tin-man he is, always fumbling about with unoiled fingers for a heart he doesn't really quite believe exists. He makes my own heart hurt as I wish I could give mine to him, make the real world of emotions and affection an easier place for his too-rigid mind to understand.
"I remember," I say quietly and quite truthfully as I try to sit up in my bed. I'm distressed but not really surprised to find that I can't. Every part of me aches like I spent the night running seven marathons, rather than just heavily asleep in my own sick-bed. "I just…wanted to sneak a little extra sleep."
"You're so naughty," she says quite cheerfully as she yanks the curtains open, lets in the pathetic dim light of this winter morning. "But I think I'll just – Mamiya!"
I wince. I recognise that horrified, faintly accusing tone altogether too well. "Yes, neesan?"
"You're not well!"
"I'm fine, neesan," I struggle to say evenly, calmly even as I just prove to her that I really cannot sit up in my own bed. "Just…it was a long night."
"Are you in pain? You are, aren't you? Oh, Mamiya, I wish you'd tell me these things," she frets as she moves to the little refrigerator that sits in the kneehole of my desk. I know what she is looking for, and it makes me sigh. "I'll send Nemuro-san away, of course. He'll understand, when I tell him how ill you are feeling today--"
"Don't."
"Mamiya!"
"Just…it doesn't hurt, not any more than usual. I don't need any more medicine," and even though I am trying to sound stronger the sudden vigour of my voice genuinely surprises me. "It's okay. Maybe I'm even getting better."
We both know I'm not, but that little white lie is enough to make her smile and for that, perhaps it is worth it. My sister believes in the silliest things for such a smart woman, yes, but I haven't the heart to tell her that I am going to die no matter what she or the professor do for me. So perhaps I shouldn't pity the professor for not having the right kind of heart to love. Perhaps I should pity myself for not having the right kind of heart to speak up and tell my sister how I really feel. It does protect her heart, I guess, even as my own breaks every time she promises me something that no-one could ever give me.
I am in pain now as neesan shows the professor in, her face shining with hope even as he doesn't speak a word to me about whatever they do at that school I once attended myself. The medicine is in the fridge under my old school desk, yes, but I don't ask for it. I suffer in silence as I see their belief in their faces that they'll save me…I just lie here in my silence and in my pain.
Sometimes, I think maybe I deserve it.