A/N:Whew! Sorry for the long wait! I've been mighty preoccupied with school and by bouts of procrastination and fanfiction reading, so er, I put off updating for a while. It's Christmas break right now, so I'm thinking of updating my stories for a bit. :D I'll see what I can do.
Something interesting happened a while back. Among my friends, only two know of my penname here (one is Aoi Kitsune-chan and the other is a lurker who goes by hotCarameLsaucE). And then this dude, an otaku classmate who's somewhat my friend, coincidentally found out. How? Well, the picture I used to use for my avatar (the one with the white teacup and teapot), is the same photo I use for my Facebook account and for my phone wallpaper. He recognized it. I don't really mind him knowing, but I wanted to mess with him for a bit. I threatened to put in some M rated boyxboy stuff to scar him for life if he ever plans on reading my stories. Ahh, I'm so evil~ xD
Anyhoo, here's chapter 3 of Interlude! Reads on my dear readers! :D
Interlude
-Chapter 3-
The doctor was looking at the X-rays, tracing a wrinkled finger on the supposedly infected areas within the brunet's hands. His voice maintained a professional drone as he thoroughly explained his findings with the current check-up.
Tsuna sat painfully still, trying but failing to wrap his mind around the new information he was being fed regarding his unwanted situation. His eyes followed the doctor's moving finger, yet at the same time he was vividly conscious of the stark white walls enclosing the room and the lingering scent of antiseptic and different kinds of medicine in the air. He felt oddly claustrophobic all of a sudden, adding to his growing uneasiness. With both hands tightly clasped together on his lap, he cut off the doctor's ramblings with the question that has been plaguing his mind for the better part of his hospital visit.
"H-how much longer?"
The question came out as a soft stuttered whisper, and he mentally berated himself for being this weak.
"Pardon?"
The doctor blinked, confusion clearly etched on his face before comprehension settled in. He sighed, eyeing the petite man who, for lack of better words, clammed up and seemed to find a sudden interest in the scuffs of his shoe. He cleared his throat and waited a few seconds until his patient's attention was again directed at him.
He immediately schooled his expression into a sympathetic, understanding one.
Tsuna found no comfort from that.
"Sawada-san, let me explain again." The brunet nodded curtly, prompting the elder to continue. "The symptoms you've been having could very well account to several possible ailments. At first you thought it was only pianist's cramps, which is a plausible assumption since, from what you've told me, your line of work requires the constant usage of your hands, extending to your fingers."
Tsuna nodded slowly, vaguely recalling the doctor's words from their previous discussion.
"Aside from that, another likely conclusion would be Vasculitis, which is the inflammation of blood vessels resulting to aneurysms. Symptoms include general aches and pains, thankfully, you haven't gotten feverish yet. If what we are dealing with is indeed Vasculitis, the disruption of blood flow caused by the inflamed vessels could damage several of your body's organs and could lead to death if not treated." At this, the medical practitioner absentmindedly began tracing the areas where the blood vessels are located again, something which the brunet didn't fail to notice.
"The thing is, though not much is known about it, Vasculitis can be treated." The doctor gave a pointed look at the smaller man. "And we know that what you have isn't Vasculitis."
Tsuna stayed silent, knowing that there would be more to the explanation, which is suspiciously becoming more and more like a science class lecture on ailments and diseases.
"Another possibility is Carpal tunnel syndrome, which causes acute pain and intense numbness on the hands and wrists and loss of grip strength." He paused for a second to think. "And judging by the remission of the pain, it couldn't be the bursting of blood vessels, though symptoms are quite similar as well."
Tsuna just nodded along, wondering when his question would finally get answered. He hardly cared for any of these…
"Sawada-san, the way that this unknown infection is spreading and damaging your blood vessels is like how cancer cells divide and grow in number, harming the healthy cells. But since we have no prior knowledge about this particular disease, we have no definite cure for it aside from surgically removing the infected areas. And as we've said before, surgery would lead to paralysis, and it would only be effective if the infected area is still small. For now, we're lucky that the administered trial drugs are effectively hindering the growth and spreading of the infection. We don't know for how long this will hold on."
Silence prevailed for a short while, allowing Tsuna to digest what he'd been told.
"Regarding your question, we still don't know. I can't give you a sure answer." The doctor cleared his throat. "What's certain for now is that the infection is indeed deadly. For how long it will take to completely poison your system, we do not know. We are racing against time here, Sawada-san. We must know of your decision soon, whether you consent to surgery or not."
The brunet stood up and politely thanked the doctor, all the while, his expression giving no hint of his inner turmoil.
"Remember to come back for your next check-up. We have to closely follow the infection's progress."
Tsuna nodded briefly before stalking out of the room, out into the open.
Fong stared at the shattered remains of his alarm clock. Dazedly, he wondered how it could have met such a tragic end until he remembered that it was he who threw it, grudgingly, to the wall a few minutes prior.
That's another broken clock he has to replace.
He sighed, putting a hand to his face. He really should do something about this...side of him. Mornings bring out the worse in him, he concurred with another sigh.
The sight of his broken clock reminded him of his reason for willingly waking up in the wee hours of the morning; even if it's perfectly clear he would much rather sleep a few hours more. His father was very strict when it came to punctuality, so it's a given that he was raised to be as punctual as he could get, for whatever the occasion. And recently, he's been waking up earlier than usual, all to avoid having to deal with him in the mornings.
Fong took one last glance at the corpse of what has once been his clock before jumping out of bed, stumbling towards the bathroom to get himself ready for school.
-;-
Stepping out of his room, Fong quietly headed to the family altar. His eyes looked over its contents, a vase of fresh flowers, a small ceramic urn holding a few sticks of lit incense, landing on a wooden photo frame. The frame held a picture of a smiling female. Her hair and eyes a shade of dark onyx, and her features were undoubtedly of Asian descent. Her beauty was forever preserved in that instant.
His face softened at the sight of the woman.
"Good morning, Mother."
He took a couple sticks of incense, lit them, and uttered a soundless prayer. After placing them inside the urn, he smiled at his mother and said his goodbyes. He was about to head out the door when his father's daunting voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Fong."
His voice was cold and held no hint of fatherly affection. Fong slowly faced him and bowed his head in respect.
"Good morning, Father."
Qiang stared down his son, not giving any indication of hearing him. His dark eyes were hard and calculating, likened to that of a predator eyeing its prey. A minute or so passed before he spoke.
"You're up early. And leaving without breakfast, I see." It was an observation and nothing more. Fong knew his father could care less whether or not he ate three meals a day. He bit back his thoughts and carefully formulated his response.
It wanted to avoid you.
"There is something of dire importance I have to attend to at school, and I'm a little short on time."
Qiang merely stood there, as if contemplating his answer. Fong wondered if he saw through his lie. After a few more moments of silence, the teen knew that the topic has been dropped. He held back a sigh of relief and bowed once more.
"If there's nothing else, then I'll be taking my leave now, Father."
He put on his shoes and made his way towards the door when the Tai family head spoke up, his voice echoing across the room.
"Don't forget what we talked about, Fong."
Fong's lips curved up into a small grim smile. He clenched his trembling hands rather tightly around the bag strap.
"Yes, Father." You wouldn't allow me to after all.
The door closed lightly after Fong. Qiang merely stared at his retreating son's back through the window.
"Lin."
From the shadows of the room emerged one of his bodyguards, deeply loyal to him and his clan. Lin bowed to his waist in respect, awaiting his orders.
"Watch my son closely. Report back to me immediately if you find something...unusual."
Lin nodded, then bowed again. "As you wish."
-;-
He arrived at the school gates an hour and a half early, and as expected, he was the only student in sight. Classes don't start until 8:00 am; he figured he has plenty of time to kill. He let out a sigh as he walked aimlessly around the school grounds, his mind fleeting back to two days ago.
But I'll only tolerate it up to this much.
The moment you graduate from high school, the whole family is moving back to China.
Fong quickly shook his head to rid himself of his thoughts. How he wished he could lead himself to believe that it never happened, that his father never talked to him about leaving Japan and returning to China. A frown found its way on his lips.
He hated himself for being a coward. He hated himself for not standing up to his father.
He hated that he couldn't do anything about it.
Fong closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. He needs to tell Tsuna of his situation...
But then what? It's not like anything would change if he told the brunet. It's not like...the other loved him as well.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing outside one of the school's old music rooms, his feet having led him there. He peeked in through the window and scanned the area inside. The lack of instruments spoke of years of un-use. But then his eyes caught a glimpse of black and settled on the far end of the room beside the window.
There stood a single piano, smaller than the one in his sensei's house, but still beautiful nonetheless.
The Chinese tried his hand at the door and found it open. Slowly, he entered the small room. The door closed behind him with a creak to its rusty hinges. He walked towards the piano and slid his fingers across the ivory keys, enjoying the tinkling sounds it created.
He checked the time. 7:04.
It wouldn't hurt if he played for a bit.
He sat on the wooden bench in front of the piano, fingering its intricate wood carvings, before turning his full attention to the musical device. Smiling, he wound the opening bars to his sensei's favorite song, to the lullaby he always loved to hear.
That moment when he played the piano was the most relaxed he'd been in days.
As the song came to a close, he could faintly hear muffled voices approaching in the background. He turned around in time to see the door swing open revealing two girls chattering with each other. Judging by their uniforms, they were a year younger than him, freshmen.
"–it's here, Kyoko-chan! This is where I heard the music! It was so beau–"
"Alright Haru-chan, but don't be so–"
Both stopped in mid-sentence as they sensed another presence in the room. Fong was still sitting on the bench, his left hand resting against the keys while his right hung limply against his side. Their eyes widened in recognition.
"AHH! FONG-SEMPAI!"
The girl with dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail, presumably 'Haru-chan', screeched loudly and made exaggerated hand movements while the one with orange hair called 'Kyoko-chan' alternated between calming her friend down and glancing at their upperclassman. Fong winced at the sheer volume of the voice but still found it in him to smile. He drew back his hand from the keyboard and stood from his seat, giving them a friendly bow and greeting.
"Hello."
A faint blush spread across their cheeks. A second later, it was Kyoko who recovered first. She smiled sweetly, almost shyly, at him.
"Ano...I never knew Fong-sempai played the piano." At this, the brunette, too, finally regained her composure. "Neither did I!" Then a flurry of questions followed.
Fong remained pleasant and answered each question directed at him patiently. He smiled at the girls' antics and crazy shenanigans, as they took his mind away from...distasteful things. "So, Fong-sempai, how long have you been playing the piano?" He stayed silent for a while, mentally calculating the number of years he has spent learning from his beloved teacher. "Hm, probably around 6 years now." Both girls made 'ooh' noises and continued chattering enthusiastically. Time passed by quickly as they conversed with each other.
"Did you learn to play the piano by yourself, Sempai?" The older teen's eyes softened. "No...I have a teacher." This seemed to interest the two girls greatly. "Eh? Really? Then he must be really good, since Sempai already plays really well and he's just the student!" The other agreed. The humor in his eyes soon left and his smile became strained at the next turn of the conversation. "Waa! Then I want to learn from this great master as well!" Fong opened his mouth to speak but then the first bell alerting the students that classes were about to start sounded, and the two girls immediately bid their farewells and went off on their merry way.
The Chinese stood in solitude as he waited for the pattering footsteps to die out. He didn't like the idea of Tsuna teaching anyone other than him. He smiled wryly. It unnerved him that he has become this selfish. Shaking his head, he glided across the old floorboards and exited the room.
"Quite the popular one, aren't you?"
He glanced to his side and was met with a male student with an eye catching fedora perched on top of sleek raven hair. Amusement danced in his dark eyes and a small smirk played on his lips. Fong grinned at him widely, a huge contrast to the annoyance in his tone.
"Go die, Reborn."
"...Yes. Um, I'd like to take a few days off, if possible...Yes. No! Nothing's wrong. It's just..." A pause. "Okay. Thank you so much. Goodbye."
Tsuna put the receiver down with a sigh and dropped to the floor. He drew his knees to his chest and stared at his trembling hands, clenching and unclenching them the whole time.
A/N:Ohoho. How was it? Reviews are lovely! :D
Fong's father's name is Qiang. It means 'strength'.