First Fruits Basket fic so be kind. Now, I know the Akito spoiler even though I haven't even read it, because it's hard to poke around on the FB section and not find out. I was very disappointed – but my fic involves male Akito because it's more sexy that way, what with dark bishounen angst, and I prefer him that way. :D
Disclaimer: I don't own Akito or Hatori (dammit) and I'm not making money offa this.
Will contain shounen-ai. Hatori and Akito go soo great together. Title will be scrapped as soon as I think of a better one.
Some people are born to live. Others, to die.
Akito Sohma, god of the Zodiac, curled up on his bed and tried to sleep. Every time his pale lids would wander downwards, some new pain would start gnawing at his weak body and he would hiss, and swear, and shudder until it ebbed.
This had been happening for several hours. He was exhausted, and irritable. Hatori had been unable to rattle off any medical solution for his ailments and the hopelessness of it all was starting to seep into him.
The young god curled his dark head into the crook of his elbow. He could feel wetness pricking the corners of his eyes and smiled. Depression was not a new symptom to Akito…anyone would feel depressed if they had to live their lives constantly suffering like he did…and he let the tears come, flowing down his cheeks to leave grey blotches where they fell onto his pillows.
No one should live like this.
He couldn't remember the nights, because delirium sent him into a hot, suffocating feverish fog where phantom faces swam and mocked him, and his eyelids were leaden weights, and he was helpless, weak as a kitten. The only memories he did retain were of Hatori's calm, steady voice, sounding off his vital statistics, and of the doctor's cool hand against his hot forehead.
He was a sacrifice. An offering to whatever sadistic gods there were so that others may live. Not that they cared, or if they did they never showed it. His Juunishi: animals that they were, that crept and cowered from his black gaze, unknowing, ungrateful animals. Akito was their guilty secret, something they rarely spoke of, kept away in a dark room.
The grey blotches had become a stain. Akito sobbed silently, ignoring the ache in his lungs. Mucus was building in his nostrils and throat. He no longer cared.
Tears will not change anything.
And yet they would not stop. The young man cried and cried, until mucus clogged his nasal passages and he coughed and choked. He did not wipe it away.
---
Hatori typed away at his laptop, preoccupied with updating his clinical records. Every so often his right hand would rise and swipe at the sheaf of hair that concealed his near-blind eye in an unconscious gesture. At last he sighed and closed the program, feeling his neck crick as he stretched his arms behind his head.
He glanced at the clock. It would be time for Akito's mid-afternoon checkup in five minutes. Hatori frowned. Akito…
Although he would not admit it to anyone else at the moment, the doctor was starting to worry.
It was normal for Akito to be unwell. Being ill seemed to be Akito's natural state: all Hatori did was to try and keep the symptoms under control and hope they didn't evolve into something more serious that was life-threatening. If Akito had suddenly showed signs of perfect health Hatori would've dragged him to the nearest hospital to see what was wrong.
So medical problems, all right. But now the Dragon was beginning to feel unsure about something else…his main patient's emotional state. That seemed to be changing as well. It was perfectly normal for Akito to be cold, emotionless, cruel, occasionally breaking into angry outbursts and throwing something breakable against the wall. Hatori wished it wasn't so, but that was Akito.
Instead, the young god had been…quieter. The angry outbursts had continued, but there was hopelessness in Akito's ravings that Hatori had not detected before. Akito would spend hours…days…staring at the garden outside his window or lying on the porch, with an oddly blank expression on his face. He had the look of someone who had given in. Seeing the pale shoulders slumped in futility made Hatori anxious.
The doctor was afraid that Aktio was becoming depressed. Well, more depressed then usual. Any self-pity that Akito had…and there was a lot of it…came with righteous anger that buzzed and seethed under the clan head's skin. Akito's burning desire to revenge himself on all those who were healthy kept deep depression at bay.
Until now. Hatori rubbed his temples.
Another glance at the clock told him he was late, and he quickly collected his doctor's bag and checked that all the necessary equipment was inside. Two minutes later he was striding down the hallway towards Akito's room, and in the doorway.
---
The young god was on his bed. By the half-grey light coming through the window, Hatori could see he was curled like a fetus, as if trying to occupy the smallest amount of space possible. The yukata had slipped off both shoulders to puddle at the hips, presenting to Hatori the bare, pale curve of Akito's spine. Vertebrae and ribs twitched as Akito shivered in his half-sleep.
He's so thin, the Dragon thought with shock. I thought he was eating at least more then half of his meals…He berated himself for not keeping track. I should pay more attention to changes in his daily routine!
Hatori's eyes scaled Akito's form again. Illness had diminished the amount of flesh, but had outlined the still-working muscles in the shoulders and back, giving Akito's body a slender, tapered look. The pale back lying curled against paler sheets…Hatori thought the symmetries strangely sensual, a perfect bedroom scene.
Oh my God.
The doctor's eyes widened. I didn't just think that. I didn't. Did not.
Akito shivered again, and he snapped back to the present.
Softly, as not to surprise to clan-god, Hatori padded across to the bed and peered down at Akito's face. He was greeted with the sudden image of Akito's dark lashes laid against his pale cheek. It struck him as strangely beautiful.
He recoiled at this second treacherous thought and stared furiously at the opposite wall, daring the shadows there to comment.
I did NOT just think that Akito was beautiful. Or sensual, in any way. Kami, what's gotten into me?
He shook his head firmly. I need to get more sleep. That's all. I'm just tired.
He looked again; saw that the lashes were matted with tears. He saw the glistening tracery on the nose and upper lip, on the hollowed cheeks. Hatori bit his lip. He's been crying in his sleep. Again.
Hatori needed Akito to be awake for his check-up. The doctor hesitated, and placed a warm hand on Akito's shoulder. The clan-head jerked, trembled, mumbled something before coming into muzzy consciousness.
"Ha…tori?"
"Yes, Akito-san. It's time for your check-up." The Dragon took a tissue from his pocket and began to wipe Akito's face. His hand was batted away.
"Do not do that, Hatori. I'm not a child."Akito struggled up from his nest of blankets and glared, swaying like a cobra. With perfect impudence he plucked the tissue from Hatori's grip and began cleaning himself.
He was bare from the waist up. Not daring his eyes to move downwards, Hatori tugged the yukata back onto painfully thin shoulders. "You should always keep yourself covered, Akito-san. You know you're prone to colds."
"Just get on with my check-up, Hatori."
The good doctor listened to Akito's respiration, heart rate, looked into his ears and eyes still pink-rimmed, and moved his larger fingers along the curving warmth of the young man's throat. His expert touch detected swollen glands. Akito flinched.
"Ah! It hurts."
"Your throat is sore. I'll give you some lozenges. And…" Hatori forced a purely medical eye to operate on Akito's slender frame, "I want you to start eating your meals, Akito-san. I think part of your susceptibility to illness has to do with you not maintaining a balanced diet and therefore weakening your immune system. I want to see you eat everything that's on your tray, every day."
Akito narrowed his black eyes. "Are you ordering me, Hatori?"
"Doctor's orders," Hatori said coldly, feeling a twinge in his chest as the young man gritted his teeth. "You should want to try and get better, Akito-san, for your own sake."
"You don't want me to get better," Akito whispered.
"What?"
"You don't care." He balled his hands into fists. "None of you care whether I live or die. You hate me…you all hate me!"
"Akito-sa –"
"If I died, you'd be glad, wouldn't you? The curse would break! And you wouldn't feel guilty, you would forget about your dirty hateful sick secret kept in the Main House – "
"Aki –"
Akito was weak, and Hatori saw the blurred right fist and caught it by the wrist, on instinct. Akito hissed and snarled, trying to wrench away.
"I will not get better!" he screamed. "I will never be healthy, never ever again! I am suffering, I am dying so you will live and you tell me I should try and get better –"
"Akito-san, calm down!"
The god turned and twisted, Hatori unconsciously gripping Akito's thin wrist tighter and tighter as he fought. Akito, black eyes blazing, was shouting again, and Hatori felt rather then heard the tiny crack of bone.
Did I
Did I just
Akito stopped shouting.
As the petrified Dragon watched, Akito's face grew whiter and whiter, his eyes wider and wider and his jaw closed and trembled and Hatori released his grip. His mouth was bone-dry.
"Akito…"
Yellow-purple bruises were blossoming on Akito's frail wrist-bones. There was no blood. Akito stared at the wrist as if it weren't his, before raising shocked eyes to Hatori's bluegreen ones.
"…You broke my wrist."
"I...I didn't…"
I didn't mean to
"You broke it," the god said in a strange, pained voice. "You grabbed my wrist and broke it. I saw it. I felt it. I feel it still."
"Let me look at it." Hatori crept out with one hand. Akito yanked his arm back and cradled it to his chest.
"No. Don't touch me."
"I'm your doctor."
"You hurt me."
Hatori's pulse was thundering in his ears. "Let me bind it up, Akito-san, and put a cast on…it…" His voice dwindled as Akito gave him a white, blazing look.
"Get out, Hatori."
"You need medical attention. Let me just -"
He reached for Akito and stopped as the young man cringed like a whipped dog.
"I said get out."
"I – "
"Get out of here!"
The Dragon was on his feet and ducking as Akito swiped a leftover plate with his left hand and flung it at his head.
"I won't forget this! I-I trusted you, Hatori!" Ceramic shards exploded on the doorframe. "Get me another doctor – NEVER COME NEAR ME AGAIN – "
Akito's anguished bellows became muffled as Hatori fled, not stopping until he reached his office and locked the door, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands. After a while the yelling stopped, and became horrible, shuddering sobs.
Hatori put his face in his hands.
A/N: So, whaddaya think? I know this isn't an obvious start for shounen-ai, but it'll come. I want reviews before I update though. I accept constructive criticism but remember this is my first FB fic. Please tell me what you think!