Chapter Two: Between the Dark and the Light
First Day
It was the silence that hurt the most, the tiniest creaks that filtered through the quaint space, the soft caress of a billowing breeze were all hallmarks of comfort for Koushi, reminders of the lackadaisical days he'd spent in Dai's arms. Days that the sickness hadn't intruded in their lives, moments in where they could just enjoy what life offered. Loving moments, seconds given to discovery, passion, fulfillment…
Koushi squeezed his eyes tighter, hoping that he could push back the wave of tears that threatened to burst forward. It was a battle he was losing; his eyes ached from the torrents already released, echoing the odd, unsettled hollowness that had engulfed him seconds after Daichi had taken his last breath. He turned inward, inhaling his lingering scent as he clutched the pillow closer, tighter against his body hoping-wishing- that the familiar warmth would return. That he wouldn't open his eyes and see the darkness, its maw stretching to consume him entirely. Pushing his face into the pillow more, he wished for the memories to wilt away, taking with them the pain of loneliness that brushed its icy fingers along Koushi's heart. He didn't want it; he didn't want just snippets of a life lived, of phantom peals of laughter and diminished embers of a love so strong, so fiery that its essence still hovered, seeping into his very soul.
"Daichi," he moaned breathlessly, "please."
An essence that he would feel no more, his lingering touch snatched away by fate, leaving him in this desolate space.
His calloused hands had drifted over his sensitive skin, his touch so gentle, so alluring; Koushi bit his lip to stave a lurid moan. Outside, the familiar chatter of their schoolmates filled the air, the bracing clatter of lockers slamming, mingling perfectly with the cacophony of noise that accompanied the end of the day. Inside this place, this darkened space, he'd given over to chance, allowing this one moment of lustful inhibitions.
"Don't be a tease, Daichi."
"Not teasing," he whispered against his ear, nipping at his soft lobe, "just savoring."
The tightness in his throat eased as the tears began to subside, the oncoming respite a relief. The images had come in spurts, most of them a brief flash of a smile, a haunting sensation of warmth encircling briefly before dissipating. In those slight moments, he was alive again, the heaviness of grief had yet to be yoked around his neck, trudging him ever downward that spiraled abyss of pain. The sun had made its journey through the sky, encroaching on the western horizon and he'd returned home blessedly numb, his feet moving, his eyes seeing, his lungs expanding and releasing all on rote memory. He'd spent an undeterminable amount of time sitting on the couch, staring into space, thinking of nothing and everything. Hours had sped by in solitude, nothing but the gentle scrape of the huge sakura tree's bare branches scrapping against the window served as his companion. He hadn't felt anything; the world he knew had slid through his fingers, fingers that had held on to him tightly as he slipped away. He hadn't even realized that he'd moved to their bedroom in an effort to relieve the heaviness that had settled about him.
He clutched the pillow tighter about him still as a lone tear escaped his eye, sliding silently down. His breath hitched as the familiar ache swelled, clutching his heart within its destructive grasp.
"I want you to be happy, Koushi. Promise me."
"I can't."
"You can. One step in front of the other, one second at a time."
"Daichi…"
"Keep moving, Koushi."
Twelve hours had passed since their last words hung between them. Hours since he smiled one last time, his cracked lips thinning as he breathlessly lamented that he wouldn't see the leaves fall this year.
"One step in front of the other…"
"I can't." His voice echoed in stark silence, tightening as the grief again took hold of his body. He sobbed openly, grasping frantically at the pillow Daichi had laid mere hours ago, desperate to hold the searing pain at bay.
It wasn't working. The more he tried, the more he realized that he was holding on to nothing more than wisps of thoughts, of stolen moments. Those made him cry even harder, screaming into the pillow, the tendrils of despair slowly winding themselves around his entire body, forcing him to concede to its torturous power.
It's why he hadn't called anyone. He didn't need prying eyes gazing at him forlornly, pitying him for his loss. He didn't need the whispers, the assumptions or the frantic bustle of helping hands. He didn't want anyone else in his space. He wanted what he could no longer have.
His body rocked with the totality of his sadness, his muscles taut with uneased tension, the tears streaming down his face as he flopped on his back. He still held the pillow, hugging it to his body, anchoring himself to something that would calm him.
Once the tears had subsided again, Koushi sniffled softly and inhaled letting it out slowly, his awareness returning. He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows of the tree just outside the window swaying with the gathering wind. The loneliness he'd fought so hard against was surfacing and he blinked away the stray tears as they popped up, lifting his hand to wipe them away. Eventually, he had to get up, to field calls, to face the multitude of faces that had been their foundation, prepare for the onslaught of mirthless smiles and kind words. Eventually, he'd have to square with the fact that his life, as he knew it, was over.
Koushi sighed heavily and slowly released the pillow, his eyes stayed on the ceiling. The sun had finally completed its journey, its brightness snuffed out for only a time but his sun; his light had been extinguished, lost to the ether of forever.
Dread encased him, pulled him under. Empty of the warmth he'd taken for granted too many times, the love dispelled by his inability to say sorry one last time.
And he thought he'd prepared for this? Longing, grasping for something that would never return. Koushi closed his eyes against the turmoil, surprised that he still had tears to spare.
The desolate silence was shattered by the shrill of his phone ringing, the familiar tone tearing a fresh wound in his heart. Just the thought of facing Daichi's parents made his lip quiver, already hearing their mournful wails in his ear. They'd prepared as much as they could but Koushi- and by a measure, Daichi- knew that they were distancing themselves from this. Saving their hearts from completely shattering. They'd have no memory of the tumultuous nights, of the days watching Daichi wither away. A sliver of contempt rose within Koushi, hating that he had been the only one to witness the death of something so pure. The anger was tempered, however; he couldn't disparage their avoidance completely. They'd fought this disease long before Koushi had entered the battle; their emotional scars ran just as deep as his own. No one would emerge from this unscathed.
Yet Daichi's memory didn't deserve the stain of regret. There'd been plenty of moments in where Daichi had challenged him to survive this, to survive him. Even as his strength was waning, his eyes dulling with awareness, he remained steadfast: Survive me.
It was a testament to his indomitable strength, something Koushi adored. And that was what he needed to focus on. But intentions meant nothing in the face of such a devastating loss.
"You're a coward, Koushi Sugawara." He massaged his eyes and released another breath, sitting up and turning his head to stare out into the inky darkness, briefly wondering how long he'd spent staring at the ceiling and decided that it didn't matter.
The phone had stopped ringing, the mocking silence returning.
This would be his first night without him and as he walked in the darkness toward the living room, he wondered if he'd survive the cold space beside him.
A mask of indifference fell into place, demarcating the freedom Daichi's love had provided from the duty to simply exist within this new norm.
It was heartless, he knew, but it wasn't like he needed his heart anyway.
Daichi had taken it with him along with the desire for anything more than just breathing.
A fitting penance for daring to love, a mistake he would never make again.
Hours had passed since he'd come into this room, seeking the one who held his life, his heart in his capable hands. Hours had passed since he'd found him, his body covered in blood, his eyes wide and staring into nothingness. Hours since he'd sat beside him, taking his cold clammy hand and squeezing it desperately, waiting. He hadn't allowed them to place a shroud to cover him, forcing himself to take in the violence that had snatched him away. His eyes had grown tired from crying, his body aching from the jarring sobs that wracked him so fully the moment he'd felt Hajime fade away, the approaching doctor only confirming what he'd already known.
Hajime was dead.
And he sat beside him, waiting for oblivion, his own chocolate eyes desolate and empty, his heart filled with agony.
Waiting for someone to tell him this was a joke, waiting for Hajime sit up and laugh uproariously at his naiveté. He waited for someone to wake him from this horrific nightmare, for the sensation of his arms to encircling him within its strong embrace, his delicious scent calming his frayed nerves. He'd closed his eyes tightly as he anchored himself to the limp hand of the one he'd loved, waiting to hear the delectable rumble of his whispered voice, waiting to feel his lips glancing off the shell of his ear in an effort to lure him away from his discontent.
"We'll leave right after your last test."
"And you're not going to tell me exactly where we're going?"
Waiting…
"Tooru, it's time to go."
He didn't move, his unfocused gaze remaining steadfast on the wall, his fingers tightening around Hajime's lifeless hand. A lone tear broke free and slid down his cheek as he swallowed hard, the thick lump in his throat threatening to choke him.
"I'd told you already. Pack lightly."
A gentle hand settled on his shoulder and his eyes finally slid close, the pressure allowing even more tears to fall. If he let him go, he'd shatter completely. In response, he held on tighter, the burn of the memories accosting him even as he sought their comfort.
"Not exactly the answer I was looking for, Iwa-chan."
"If I told you, it would ruin the surprise."
An echo of hollow laughter lingered in his ear, fading quietly into the vacuum of his reality. Tooru grimaced and inhaled sharply as Kentaro's hand gripped his shoulder in an offering of support. He'd known what was coming; he'd been allowed more than enough time with Hajime to silently lament the loss of something so detrimental to his own life. Although he'd spent hours with the dead, it hadn't seemed enough.
"Come on, Tooru. Let him go." Kentaro's broken heart was evident in his quiet tone, his words soft and meek, words that were never associated with the younger man. Tooru could feel the devastation in his touch, his reluctance to even utter the words that would forever sever the bonds forged in brotherhood. "He's gone, Tooru."
Seconds passed before Tooru's grip faltered slightly, his breath hitching as he finally turned his eyes to the gurney. He'd stared at his body for long moments, his eyes roaming the expanse of his blood covered chest, the dark maroon patches spilling downward toward his waist. So much blood… yet there was no hint of pain on Hajime's face. Passive in death, eyes had slackened, the tight wrinkles that had donned both corners now eased, his eyes hollowed, evidence that he'd been snatched away quickly.
He rose quietly and stood beside him, reaching to trace his face, his fingertips glancing over his eyebrows before drifting down to his lips. A cry of anguish left his lips as he cupped his cheek, his thumb caressing the cold flesh. Tooru allowed his grief dominion as he bent over Hajime's prone form, his own shaking under the pressure of his sorrow.
"You didn't suffer did you, Hajime?" he whispered brokenly against his cold flesh, "You weren't in pain, were you?" The silence sliced through him as he continued his voice thickening with tears still left to shed, "Please tell me you didn't suffer."
"He didn't," Kentaro offered quietly. "He fought but he didn't suffer." He reached to clasp Tooru's shoulder, exhaling heavily, "Tooru, we must go."
"I know." His voice was so thin, so transparent; it was as if it were a secret passed between lovers. "I know. It's just… I don't know what to do next, Kentaro. I don't know how I'm supposed to keep going. Hajime…"
"Wouldn't want you to do this to yourself, you know that Oikawa."
A gentle chuckle escaped as Tooru reached to caress Hajime's face once more, a wan smile appearing, "He was so mean and irate. If he could see me now, he'd spare no expense in kicking my ass for being so stupid."
And he was right. Hajime had been patient with Tooru suffering through his daily bout of dramatics with slight grin even as he responded with a sharp tongue. Although irritable to a fault, there was no heat to Hajime's censure, only mild annoyance that segued into tempered understanding. It was what Tooru loved about Hajime; his ability to balance levity with austerity, lenient in love and accepting everything Tooru was.
"But," he continued as he traced his fingertip around Hajime's lips, "he had an indulgent heart. Even as he chastised me, he loved me." He bent to brush his lips against Hajime's, struck at how cold they'd become. Rising, he turned to Kentaro, his eyes shimmering with welling tears, "I-I have to let him go, Ken."
And Tooru finally let go. As much as it hurt, as much as he wanted to stay by his side, he knew that there was no benefit from anchoring himself to what was lost. That didn't mean that it made it any easier to turn his back on the only love he'd ever known.
He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
Third Day
And still the silence remains…
Koushi exhaled heavily, his topaz eyes lingering morosely on the plain wall before him, the cup of coffee he'd prepared almost an hour ago, remaining untouched. It was enough that he'd had the energy to even go through the process of making it, every step he took felt as if he were laden with weights, the effort to think, to do dissipating with every breath taken. The nights since losing Daichi had become his own personal Hell- the hours he'd would've spent in his lover's arms were now consumed by wandering this desolate fugue state. During the day, he'd mindlessly attended to Daichi's funeral arrangements and had been somewhat glad that his parents had decided to let him take care of everything.
At least it gave him something to do.
At least it would keep him busy, the constant motion dulling his thoughts, nullifying the absolute despair that clung to him. Fill the ravenous emptiness that grew each passing second.
It was bad enough he spent those days and nights suffering through the silence, through the longing of wanting to be held and to hold, through each agonizing heartbeat that crashed against his chest. He'd tried everything to escape this noiseless prison but no amount of music or aimless chatter would relieve his heart.
And so, he'd found himself on the third day sitting at their western style table, his eyes glazed, gazing into nothingness as he tried to down one measly cup of coffee. Eating was out of the question; the mere thought of the blonde color liquid breaching his throat made his stomach turn, his mouth watering as he closed his eyes tightly against the wave of sorrow that threaten to drown him.
He'd tried to eat the first night but the moment he'd swallowed, his stomach revolted, causing him to hurry to the bathroom before it relieved him of its contents. After that first attempt he hadn't wanted to tempt fate again, instead resigning himself to allowing the dull hunger pangs their dominion.
The familiar roiling pulled him out of his thoughts and he cupped the mug between his hands, determined to at least take a sip. His eyes closed as he inhaled, his stomach rebelling viciously against the usually delectable aroma. He tightened his grip around the mug in an effort to bring it closer, barely noticing that the tepid liquid lacked any promise of comfort or rejuvenation.
He just needed to take this one sip.
One goddamned sip.
One. Sip.
A familiar tone sliced through the silence and his heart slammed against his chest. He gripped the mug tighter as the ringing continued unable to move a muscle. Memories flooded his mind, reminding him of the day they'd brought their phones and how instead of using a generic ring tone like he'd had, Daichi had decided on using one of his favorite songs. A tear slipped free and slowly trickled down his cheek as he stared out into the void of the kitchen, slowly losing himself to his deepening despair.
All too soon, it was quiet again and Suga exhaled dejectedly, knowing that he should've at least made an effort to answer. As much as he didn't want the oppressive silence, he couldn't bring himself to integrate into the world just yet. Even though he knew his friends would be receptive to his sorrow, he couldn't allow them entrance into this new world of his, one in where he existed without the comfortable warmth that accompanied Daichi's love.
He'd give it another day or so. The arrangements would be complete and he would begin receiving Daichi's family and friends. By that time, he'd pulled himself together long enough to erect a façade that cloaked the minute cracks in his soul. Then he'd be able to face them all with a comforting smile and empty platitudes that he didn't believe himself. Maybe they wouldn't question the darkening circles around his eyes or the longing painted on his expression as random memories surfaced to torment him.
Maybe they would believe him if he told them that he'd be okay, that he'd been ready for this.
As if his friends wouldn't take one look at him and call him on his bullshit.
Suga chuckled lightly and shook his head. Of course they would. He could already hear Bokuto's boisterous voice; see the conniving machinations in his eerie eyes as he tried to pull him out of the doldrums of grief. Bo was good in that manner; if anyone, he would be the one to force the anguish into submission with his sincerity alone.
The small chuckle swiftly grew into full blown laughter, prompting Suga to place the mug down gently. He laughed until the tears surfaced and dropped, his stomach tightening from something other than repressive hunger. He laughed at the memories of Bokuto pulling him and Daichi, kicking and screaming, into one of his many adventures. Suddenly, the silence was stifling. He wanted something to fill that space.
A swift, startling knock answered his unspoken plea. He didn't hesitate, jumping up and practically running for the door, only slowing his approach when he heard another knock, this one more forceful. He had to take a breath as came to rest just inches from the door, his hand outstretched to grasp the knob. He wanted, more than anything now, someone in his orbit, someone to commiserate in his grief. His heart raced in his chest, the familiar surge of hope filling the once desolate spaces in his heart and mind.
"You haven't answered your phone in three days, Koushi."
Suga smiled more, finally grasping the knob and turning it. The door opened slightly, revealing the black and grey haired man, his hazel eyes widening briefly before morphing into a sort of warmth that Suga hadn't felt in days. There was a hint of sorrow in his gaze but Suga could tell that he was trying to level it, projecting a genuine need to protect, to comfort.
He grasped the door tightly as his eyes welled, biting his lip. It wasn't difficult to discern that Koutarou had known. Suga shook his head as Bokuto reached to grab him, pulling him into his strong embrace. Suga inhaled deeply, catching the cozy scent of familiarity and security, finally allowing the fury of his agony to overcome him.
"Why didn't you call, Kou?" Bokuto asked as he held him tightly. Suga's breath hitched as he wept, his hands grappling for purchase against Bokuto's jacket. Bokuto sighed wearily, the slight tinge of chastisement riding his words, "We decided, didn't we? We weren't going to let each other deal with this alone." Suga nodded, willing for Bokuto to keep talking but disappointed when he pulled away from him. Suga kept his eyes downward, only lifting them when Bokuto slipped his finger under his chin and tugged it upward. He smiled and exhaled lightly, "Always the stubborn one."
Suga wiped at his eyes, his lips twitching as he spoke brokenly, "Dai-chi, h-he's g-gon-gone, Bo."
"I know, Koushi," Bokuto answered as he cupped Suga's cheek gently. His thumb swiped at the failing tears, "I'm kind of hurt that you left me out of all of this. I had to hear it from shrimpy. How did he know before me?"
Suga's brows drew inward. How did anyone find out anything?
Awareness flourished as he inhaled deeply and released it slowly.
His tight circle of friends was closing in, and quickly.
"Should I be expecting the others soon?" Suga asked quietly. As soon as the words left his lips, he heard the unmistakable sound of Hinata's voice booming through the corridor. Another recognizable voice, Tsukishma, rose in response and Suga moved around Bokuto to see them emerging, their familiar bantering soothing his battered soul.
"Yeah, you should be expecting them," Bokuto answered softly. He grinned wider as he lifted his hand in greetings, "Mrs. Sawamura was gracious enough to ring Akaashi, who called Lev, who, of course called Hinata. The rest, as you see, is history."
Suga cut his eyes to his friend and shook his head as the group of young men finally came to rest, numerous sets of eyes steadying on him. He couldn't help the smile that emerged, happy that they'd come that the silence would be broken. He should've known he couldn't hide from them and now that they were here, he didn't understand why he'd even tried.
"Thank You, Bo. Thank You."
"Nah, no thanks needed, Kou. You need us, we come."
"Yeah, even if you didn't necessarily call us," Hinata interjected. A swift hand smacked the back of his head and he turned to Kageyama with a deep scowl," Hey! I'm just saying…"
"Now's not the time to be cute, dumbass." Kageyama turned his attention to Suga, "You need anything?"
"Point us in the way you want us to go," Ennoshita offered.
"Yeah, the receiving begins tomorrow," Noya added quickly.
Suga shifted his gaze to Tsukishma and Yamaguchi as they inclined their heads slightly, then turning his attention to the dark haired man who came to stand next to Bokuto. He fidgeted uneasily, fighting the panic of seeing all of his friends- their friends congregated in the narrow corridor. It was then that the reality hit and he felt himself slipping, the shadows drawing in quickly. He didn't hear them all move as one toward him, their voices heightened in alarm. He only felt the sweet surrender of the darkness, the faint whisper of his voice in his ear.
"It's going to be alright…"