AN: As promised here's another chapter. Told you it wouldn't take long, no? Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, before you continue, I'd like to answer a few reviews I've received. I'd like to go ahead and answer a frequent request by many of my lovely readers, that being 'Can you make a spin-off chapter(s) for Gaara?'. Admittedly, I have fallen in love with the red-head myself while writing, so I will grand you such a wish and will work on a chapter or two just for you GaaSho fans. Said spin-off chapters wont be posted until after this fanfiction is complete though. I hope you don't mind the wait. Thank you for your patience.

Now, onto the fanfiction.

Enjoy!

Chapter 18: Medicine

I decided to devise a plan. I've been mulling over it for about a week or so, I like to call it; "Sho's Super Duper Make Your Roommate Feel Better About Dumping His Perfect Girlfriend Plan 2.O".

It's a working title, but it's very specific to its agenda. The added '2.O' is included to give the illusion that a first plan was made, but due to careful consideration and revision, a better plan was created. Now, I'm not implying that I haven't taken the time to formulate a step-by-step guide, but—okay, I really don't have a manual or blueprint for my plan (as of yet). Rest assured, I've had a few concepts up my sleeve and spur of the moment ideas.

For example, take scenario number one. Picture me dressing up as a 'Hug Ninja', all cliché uniform and all, just popping out of the laundry closet and 'attacking' my roommate when he least expects it. Oh, and this is while I also yell out my attack, and completely fade back into my room, just like an angsty teenager escaping from family game night.

Although this would be the part where I reassure that this plan is hypothetical as of yet, it isn't. I actually tried this the other day and I sadly admit it didn't go as well as I planned it out in my head. Everything was going right, until the actual part of surprising my roommate.

I hid in the laundry closet after my roommate stated he was going to the convenience store.

And waited.

And waited some more.

I'm pretty sure I stayed in the laundry closet for a good hour or so, but I didn't budge, since I didn't want to risk blowing my cover. I waited to the point where I seriously needed to use the bathroom, but I sunk my teeth into my bottom lip, and dealt with the uncomfortable pressure. The awaited moment finally arrived as I heard the apartment door opening and closing…but, that was it.

That's all I heard.

There were no footsteps shuffling around, bags or keys being placed on the kitchen table, just the closing of the front door and pure silence afterwards. I started to believe I was becoming delusional by standing in pure darkness for almost an hour.

And just as I was about to take a peek into the hallway, the closet door flung open, scarring me to death and admittedly…. a small trickle of pee came out. Fortunately, the amount was just enough to be soaked in fully by underwear, with no signs of spillage into my pants and down my leg (which I shaved just before, and would be in so much stinging pain if it had). The memory is so humiliatingly vivid; I can retrace our brief conversation:

"Yamada-san," my roommate's voice reared in surprise after flinging the closet door open. "What are you doing in here?"

At that point, my nerves were in complete shambles, and with the presence of a not so sensational wetness between my legs, I could barely form a sentence.

"I-I…y-you...how did you…y-you scared me," I'm pretty sure I was also shaking, trying to hide my face further into my makeshift black ninja mask.

"Scared you?" He repeated with utter shock, flicking on the light switch. I whimpered, wishing he hadn't done that. "You scared me! I thought it was someone else hiding in here and—Yamada-san," I cringed at the sound of my ridiculous last name. "What exactly are you wearing?"

"I-I'm… supposed to be…a 'Hug Ninja," I stuttered, dipping my red face into my hands.

"A what now?" I heard him ask again. Whether he asked because he wasn't able to hear me the first time or was just plain confused, I'll never know.

After that question, which I couldn't seem to answer, I rushed passed him into the bathroom, never to be seen again.

Okay, that's an exaggeration. I came out about thirty minutes later, after fully accepting the embarrassment of my actions, and realizing that my roommate had to use the restroom at some point. I thought about jumping out of the bathroom window, but I had yet to read the second novel of "Love Without Boundaries", which was a good enough reason to stop me. When I finally resurfaced, Lee obviously asked me again what I was doing. I lied and said I was trying this new religion since I'm not very devout to begin with. I made up some crazy sounding ritual of separation and integration that I was going through, hence the strange clothes and hiding place.

Good news: he probably believed it. Bad news: he probably also thinks I've become a religious extremist.

Moral of the story: 'never try to surprise an actual shinobi. You will probably end up peeing yourself…and joining an imaginary religious cult.'

"Phase one: 'Hug Ninja', complete and utter failure," I sigh, crossing out the idea marked on my note pad. I bite the end of the pen, adjusting myself on my bed. I take a look at my next plan of action. "Phase two: Ice-cream Party. Mm—no, that won't work."

I cross that idea. Although I'm sure I've seen Lee eat pretty much anything that you can put down your esophagus, he still seems like the type of person to monitor what he eats on a daily basis. Throwing tubs of ice cream at him will likely have him speculate that I'm trying to ruin his generally healthy lifestyle. Or he might consider that I'm using his vulnerable situation to buy a surplus supply of ice cream for myself. Which actually isn't a bad idea…I really have to focus, this isn't about me!

"Phase 3: Simple card game. That'll work," I smile. It's nothing too out of the ordinary, despite the fact I don't ever play card games. Like ever. I circle the written statement anyway, "Initiate, Operation: 'Gold Fish And-Then-Please-Feel-Better-Because-I-Don't-Think-I-Can-Keep-Coming-Up-With-Creative-Ways-To-Cheer-You-Up."

Perfect.

I search my closet for my creative box that I used when teaching, rummaging for a plain deck of cards. I come upon the deck and scrape off flakes of hardened glue, glitter, and bits of feathers stuck against a few cards. I slide out of my room and tiptoe into the living room, witnessing my roommate finishing his lunch preparations for tomorrow in the kitchen. I glide as casually as my flat feet will allow to his side, and I insist his shoulder with a few taps.

"Yes, Yamada-san?" he asks, turning over his shoulder and lowering his gaze down at me.

"Oh, yes me?" I laugh timidly, fiddling with the cards in my hands to the point I drop a few and scramble to pick them up. I clear my throat, regain my composure, and tuck a fallen strand of brown hair behind my ear, "I was just wondering if you'd like to play a few card games with me."

My roommate parts his lips slightly to speak, but his mouth stops short of any words. His mouth presses into a hard line, and his round eyes shift away from me, "I am sorry. I am a little tired today…." he trails off, placing his fixed bento box inside the fridge.

"Oh, okay," I lower my own violet hues solemnly towards the floor. There's a gap of awkward tension before I return my attention back to my roommate, "Um, well. How about tomorrow? I'm sure you could use a fun break after training."

"Yamada-san…" his gaze ceases to return to me; harboring a distance I'm unable to breach. An unsettling sigh escapes him, "I am grateful for what you are trying to do, but I just need to be alone for a while."

With a visible weight to his legs, he begins to trail his way back to his room, "Good night, Yamada-san."

"Good night," I whisper back, watching him disappear into the hallway.

I bite my bottom lip, compelled to somehow push my luck further.

With footsteps of a mouse, I attempt to follow my roommate, stopping short at the entrance of the hallway. Peeking over the side of the wall, I spot my roommate leaning lethargically against the strip of wall just before the entrance to his room. I remain quiet, able to hear faint utterances of apologies, strung together with my name. I want to say something, but I restrain myself, coming to realize he releases one painful sigh before entering his room and closing the door. I rationalize that I should leave him in his own company, just as he wanted.

I tread back into my room, and stare at the cards in my hands. With a concrete heaviness, I place them back into my creative box. I take a seat back on my bed and pick up my notepad and pen, crossing out my latest failed attempt.

o o o

Day by day, I see my roommate less and less. For the past month or so, I've been mostly alone in the apartment. The times I do see him are brief, insignificant, with hardly any communication. I don't really know what he's been doing with his time, but from what I've observed, he's either training, on missions, or just in his room.

Recently, I haven't seen him at all. It's been over two weeks since I last saw him. I remember seeing him the night before he left, cooking dinner and fixing a plate for himself to eat inside his room. I also recall him brushing past me with a barely recognizable greeting, or 'good bye' for that matter.

I'm beginning to think the worst possible case scenario, one that I wanted to avoid from the very start. I want to be assured that I'm not the reason for my roommate's breakup. Unfortunately, he hasn't spoken about it beyond what he told me the first day I came back from Suna.

I don't know the 'why', but I can't ask. I won't ask. In case I'm right, which I don't want to be.

There's not much else I can do. All my attempts to hang out with him are brushed to the side, or just not at the opportune moment to begin with. The only thing positive about this whole ordeal is the fact I've been able to send my updated résumé to various institutions. I have yet to be called by any of them, and it's already been almost three weeks. I'm staying positive though, because I'm sure they're going through the whole interview scheduling process with other potential candidates. I just have to be patient and occupy myself with other things.

"Darn it, I'm running out of coupons," I frown while cutting out a few discounted products of laundry detergent. I pick up the remaining scraps fallen on top of the kitchen counter and throw them away. Just as I'm about to wander back into my room I hear the house phone ring. I shuffle over to the end table by the couch and pick it up, "Hello?"

"Yes, hello." A calm feminine voice addresses me, "Is this Yamada Sho?"

"Yes, this is she. May I ask who is calling?"

"My name is Harumi Isago, I'm calling from Konohagakure West Secondary School to inform you that we have received and reviewed your application, and would like to set up a possible interview with you."

I blink and adjust the phone against my ear, "Oh, yes, of course. Thank you so much." I scramble to find a pen and piece of paper on the coffee table without choking myself with the phone cord. "On which day and at what time will this be?"

"Yes, about the actual date and time. You see, we've recently had clerical issues with our interviewing rosters." The woman on the phone goes on to add: "Our only available time slot is today at 3:00 pm. Unfortunately, we are booked everyday onwards until our acceptance deadline. We are sorry for the inconvenience, but hope you will be available."

"Yes, I'm completely available," I'm quick to say, writing down the given information. "I'll be more than glad to make it at 3:00 today. Thank you so much again."

"You're welcome, we eagerly await to see you then," she replies.

We say our courteous good-byes and I hang up the phone. It's no surprise that I practically jump up and down on my toes, bound into my room and throw my closet door open excitedly. I turn a quick eye towards my alarm clock on my nightstand, noticing it's already 12 in the afternoon. That only gives me three hours to prepare physically and mentally, but I think I have everything together. I haven't been doing just anything for the past four months that I've been partially unemployed. Within an hour and a half I'm all ready to go. I'm pacing up and down my living room, checking my manila folder for all my required documentation—it all seems there.

I'm about to head out until I hear the phone ring again. I want to leave and let it go to voicemail, but the thought of it being related to my interview persuades me to take it. I pick up the phone and press it my ear:

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sho." A familiar konoichi greets me, "It's Tenten."

"Oh, hello Tenten." I smile, "I thought it was you. How are you?"

"I'm pretty good. A little tired, but you know how it goes," she chuckles lightly. "And yourself?"

"I'm good as well. Not as tired as you probably, but I could definitely sleep for weeks," I laugh with the same light-heartedness. "Is there something you needed?"

"Sort of. I just wanted to let you know that I'm heading over in a bit to pick up Lee's checkbook," she answers. "He told me both your rents are due in a few days, and he wants to write a check to give to you since he won't be able to see the landlord himself."

I take a pause, "Oh, alright. Um, you've seen Lee-san?"

"Well, yeah. I just went to visit him with Neji and—" Tenten stops midsentence, treading carefully on her words. "Sho, did Lee by any chance talk to you recently?"

"No, not at all," I reply with utter confusion sewn into my creasing brows. "I haven't seen or heard from him for almost two weeks now."

There's an exchange of wordless breaths before Tenten's voice resonates past the trembling line static, "He's been in the hospital for the past week."

"What?" My hand latches on to the back frame of the couch, supporting my suddenly weakened joints.

"Sorry, Sho. I thought you knew already," she speaks with a tinge of regret. "I didn't think he wouldn't call you as soon as he woke up."

I'm speechless before I can gather words from my tussled thoughts, "N-No, he didn't," my mouth is drying by the second, "I'll bring the check book. Right now. I'm going to the hospital, so you don't have to worry." I exhale on a tremble, "Thank you, Tenten. Where can I find the checkbook?"

"It's in a small box with a blue lid inside his closet," she sounds apprehensive. "Are you sure you don't want me to do it?"

"It's fine," I state confidently. "I can do it."

"Alright, Sho," she says, "Good bye and good luck."

"Good bye, Tenten."

I press the phone hard into its jack. I take it up again and dial the number of my scheduled interviewer to cancel my appointment. After taking care of my appropriate business, I toss my manila folder on the couch, grab my roommate's checkbook and rush out of the apartment.

o o o

"His room is right this way," a nurse dressed in white informs me with a rehearsed smile. She guides me through a series of long and muted corridors. I glance at a few nurses making their rounds, and patients passing in transports. I bite my bottom lip, experiencing the familiarity of the same environment when my own father lay sick in a hospital gown.

I'm taken from my overlapping recollections as the nurse stops in front of a specific room, "This is it," she knocks politely before opening the door a crack and leaning in. There's a certain pause and indistinct sound emitted by the nurse before she turns to me; "I'm sorry, but it looks as if he's asleep. It's best if you come back another time."

"Please," I press the checkbook closer to my chest, "Let me see him. I promise I won't wake him."

The nurse fumbles on her words, shifting contemplative looks from the patient room to me. I furrow my eyebrows in a desperate plea of consideration, and after a short limbo, the nurse submits to my request with a sigh. "Alright, I'll allow it," she says finally.

"Thank you so much," I smile and bow my head respectfully. She recognizes it and motions me inside, closing the door behind me.

I remain still by the entrance, staring wordlessly at the sight of my roommate bedridden; his right arm bandaged and connected to an IV line, with various medical machines surrounding him, which I cannot even begin to describe. The low beeping of one of the monitors pulls me back into awareness. As quietly as I can, I bring a lone chair next to his bed and take a seat.

My violet eyes silently examine him; from the washed out purple discolorations present on his cheek, to the hardened texture of scabs spread across every knuckle.

I lower my pensive sight; "Oh, Lee-san," I whisper faintly. "What am I going to do with you?"

Time is a vague and illusive concept. As I continue to remain unmoved by my roommate's bedside, the minutes seem to pass without notice. During my watchfulness, I feel my upper body sway with listlessness. The lids of my eyes grow heavy, stringing short breaks of unconsciousness. These daydream like pauses slowly mature into flowering images, a common symptom related to the realm of sleep.

The present time, hospital room, and checkbook become intangible as I nod off.

o o o

"Sho," a warm, familiar voice of a man calls my name, his tone just as soft as the golden tendrils circling his cheeks. Yet, nothing can quite compare to such a glowing smile, and that lustrous glint in his lavender hues, "You came to see me in such a pretty dress. Who picked it out for you?"

"You did, Daddy," my seven year old self giggles, leaning over the hospital bed to rest her head and arms upon his lap. She turns a plump cheek, her violet eyes meeting ones that reflect her own, "Don't you remember, silly?"

"Ah, you're right. I sure did," my father chuckles, brushing his boney fingers across the young girls finished braid. "Where's your mother? I hope you didn't come here all by yourself."

The child merely shakes her head, "I didn't come by myself. Mama's here too, but she went to the cafeteria to get food before visiting you, but not me. I wanted to see you right away."

"Of course you did," he smiles, continuing to stroke her braid. "Tell me, how are your grades? You've been studying, haven't you?"

"Yup," she grins proudly, jumping a little on her toes. "I've been getting all A's, just like you and Mama want."

"That's my girl—" a blood curling cough interrupts my fathers sentence, his hand quickly covering his mouth out of reflex. The girl nestled on his lap straightens with urgency, forced to watch my father choke and stiffen under the uncontrollable force of each cough. After a belated moment, his coughs subside, steadily rolling into lights huffs.

"Jeez, what a nasty cough that was," he states humorously, his smile ever so present, as if it had never fallen in the first place. He brings a reassuring hand to rest on top of the young girl baring a concerned look about her, "Don't worry, sunshine. It's just as I told you, Mr. Frog seems to still be living comfortably in my throat."

"Why can't they just take him out already?" the little girl frowns, balling her fists against the sheets.

"Well, that's because Mr. Frog isn't alone," he states, and continues when the seven year old blinks her violet eyes in utter disbelief: "He has a family: a wife…" with a pause, he gently pokes her tiny nose, "and a daughter."

"Really, Daddy?" she inquires back, voice full of wonder.

"Mhm. Mr. Frog is a daddy, just like me," he says with a favoring smile. "And he's built a home for the mama and baby frog. Right here," he gestures a pointed finger to his chest. "If they try to take him out, then his family will be lonely, and so will he."

"No! I don't want him to be alone," the girl cries, latching onto my fathers waist. Her head tilts back, flashing her large glossing eyes, "They have to be together, because they're family. Why don't they just take them all out at the same time?"

"Then they won't have a home to live in," my father laughs with a light-heartedness that I had almost forgotten. With tender care, his hands caress the smaller frame of the young child's back. "In this life, we sometimes have to share our lives with others. Learn to accept our inevitable connection, and take comfort in every experience that we share, even if it's a little painful."

"Your life is connected to Mr. Frog and his family, isn't it Daddy?" she asks with profound innocence, tilting her chin up.

There's a pause, and only the gentle stroke of his hand against the delicate fabric of her floral dress, "It sure is, my little sunshine…it sure is."

Ooo

"Yamada-san?"

The scene begins to fade, stretching further away from my awareness. Within an instant, my world succumbs to a fleeting darkness before my closed eyes flutter open. The conscious world readily greets me, and I'm sitting where I had dozed off, except this time, I'm staring straight into the worrisome black circles possessed by my roommate.

"Yamada-san," my roommate calls my name once more, searching for some recognition on my part.

"Lee-san…" I observe the lazy afternoon sun pouring heavy colors of pink and gold into the hospital room. The fuzzy glow from the window beats against the silhouette of my roommate, who's in an upright position on the patient bed. I have to take a few intakes of air before speaking.

"You're awake, I'm so glad," I say drowsily, rubbing the remnants of sleep from my sensitive eyes.

"Are you alright, Yamada-san?" he sidesteps my comment and I stare back in a distant haze. Why would he be asking me if I'm all right? Clearly, it should be the reverse. My bewilderment serves as a driving point for more information on his part, "You were asleep and started talking to yourself. I was worried that you were not having a pleasant dream."

"I fell asleep?" I tilt my head to the side, pondering over the fact. My attention floats to the sanitized floor, where I have incidentally dropped my roommate's checkbook. I must have done that when he woke me up, I think to myself as I pick it up. "Mm, I guess I had a dream, but I can't seem to remember it." I extend the checkbook towards my roommate's chest, "Don't worry, Lee-san. It was nothing. I brought your checkbook, though."

My roommate takes it hesitantly, shifting an observable round eye from the checkbook to me, "I thought I told Tenten to bring it. How did you—?"

"Tenten told me," I say faintly, tucking a fallen strand of brown hair behind my ear. There's a beat in the air until I push the words past my lips, "How do you feel, by the way?"

"Good, thank you," he speaks low, brushing his fingers against a patch of discolored tissue apparent on his cheek. "Just a few bruises and bumps here and there, that is all."

I nod, and silence fills the space between our bodies, exposing our current distant relationship. My roommate shifts anxiously under the rigid ambiance, and I take notice of his attempt to cover the not so subtle IV tube that his arm is connected to.

"You don't have to hide it," I say out loud, breaking the silence and possibly startling my roommate.

"I am not trying to, I was only…" Lee ceases to justify his actions, knowing very well he is wholly witnessing my 'don't even try to lie to me right now' expression, which is a rare sight. He draws out a sigh, giving up on his initial plan; "You should not even be here, Yamada-san."

"Why?" I ask, although careless as it may sound, I need to know the reason; "Why didn't you tell me that you were in the hospital?"

My roommate runs a sheepish hand through his black velvet bangs, "You are…you are not supposed to see this side of my life. It is not something you are used to. I was convinced it would scare you."

"I'm used to it," I say, extending a hand to grace the rugged skin wrinkled at his bruised knuckles. A gentle smile sweeps across my features; "I'm your friend, Lee-san. I can accept anything and everything about you."

The beaten hand underneath my touch twitches with some form of uncertainty. I almost retract my hand at the notion, until my roommate turns his palm upwards, enveloping my fingers in his.

"You certainly are my friend, Yamada-san," Lee says, allowing a soft chuckle to part his lips. "I truly am sorry…for how I have been acting recently, especially around you. I just felt that I should not involve you in my problems, so I thought it was best to separate myself for a bit."

I smile, bowing my head shyly, "Apology accepted, thank you for telling me."

"No, thank you, Yamada-san," he professes, turning his chin more completely in my direction. There's a new pressure applied to my fingers, one that settles a bearable squeeze inside my stomach. The feeling expands as my roommate leans closer to me, addressing me with only several inches of space between us; "It may take some time, and I know that I may be in no position to ask you of anything, but I have a request."

"Of course, Lee-san," I readily agree. "Whatever it is, I'll gladly do it."

With the distinct furrowing of his signature eyebrows and infamous grin that sets him apart from the rest, he says the words: "Wait for me."

Before I'm able to reply, the door of the patient room opens, revealing a nurse pinching a clipboard in her grasp, "Excuse me, miss. Visiting hours are over."

I turn and try to push a strand of hair sticking stubbornly to the damp corners of my mouth.

"O-Okay, I was just leaving anyway," I say while awkwardly spitting out the last strands from my mouth. I clumsily rise to my feet, almost falling over due to the 'pins and needles' devouring my right calf down to my toes. Oh God, why did this have to happen right now?

"Alright, Lee-san. I'll be sure to visit you tomorrow," I practically pant, trying so hard not to tear up from the unbearable agony of my returning circulation. "And, exactly what am I waiting on you for again? Is it the check you still need to give me?"

My roommate laughs at my humorous form, bringing his checkbook and planting it softly against my forehead; "Something like that, Yamada-san."

Something like that…huh?