POV Midorima
There are a handful of times, in my entire life, that I can genuinely say that I am grateful for my height outside of the basketball court. Right now, I can number them on a single hand with remainders.
The first time will always linked forever in my mind with Takao. With my arms wrapped around him from behind and my chin resting on his head, we'd both pretended he hadn't been crying. For the thousandth time in the last few hours, I chant his name under my breath as a mantra to ward off my own tears. And now, right now, as the doctors stand between Kaori and my parents and they strain to keep her in sight, I am again grateful to tower over the situation and not lose sight of my sister's face.
"Keiko," Dad says my mom's name, but I don't hear the rest of his statement. The doctors consult while I glare at them, willing them to work harder, to do more, or to make something miraculous happen. Unexpectedly, and for the first time in my life, I do not want to follow my father's footstep and become a doctor. Medicine is too difficult, there are rules I do not understand. Basketball is simple and I visualize three-pointers, and for a moment the stifling pressure in my head vanishes.
"Shintarō," Dad says and puts his hand on my arm to make sure he has my attention.
"Yes?"
"Here is some money, go to the vending machine and bring me back a Boss Coffee. Keiko, what do you want?"
"Anything, no, tea," she says.
"Buy yourself some red bean soup."
"I'm not hungry," I say, even though my stomach is so empty it aches.
"I don't care if you're hungry, you haven't moved from that spot in four hours. Get your mother some tea and stretch your legs. That's an order, son."
I force back a snide, acidic comment and take the handful of coins.
"Nobuo, was that necessary?" Mom asks as I take one long last look at my sister's still form and push away from the window.
He is right, of course, I have not moved in so long that my knees are stiff and my feet are numb. It is close to six in the morning and I hadn't eaten dinner, we hadn't eaten dinner. I cannot remember if took my pills last night. If I take my next dose now, earlier than usual, I will be fine the rest of the day, hopefully. I stop at the water fountain and swallow the two small pills from the emergency stash in my key chain fob. How old are they? Will they still be effective?
I should text Takao to tell him what is going on. I should do that before he walks to my house and finds it empty. He will worry, but I cannot make myself do something so mundane right now. I purchase three cans from the vending machine and go straight back to the room. Kaori's bed is empty.
"What happened?"
"The doctors took her into surgery. She was…" my mom begins.
"She was what?" I demand.
"She was in distress," Dad finishes.
I shove the coffee at my dad, the tea at my mom, and then drink my soup to cushion the medication I have already tossed down there.
Dad sends me away again. He is right of course, he always is when it comes to my disorders. I feel better with a basketball in my hand. The thump of the leather against wood, the gritty textures as I turn the ball in my hands, the almost silent whoosh as it falls gracefully, naturally through the rim. I am 20 for 20 even though my hands tremble with the lingering effects of withdrawal, there is no question in my mind that I missed last night's pills. It feels like a hummingbird has taken up residence in my chest; my heart beats so fast my vision blurs.
I clear my mind; it is me and the ball and the court around me. I dismiss the sound of running feet and the crash the gym doors make when they slam open; my arc is perfect and the ball seems unaffected by gravity. I watch and count, three, four, five, six heart beats and then it connects. No wonder my opponents say that the psychological effect of my shots are worse than the points they score.
"Shin-chan?" Takao says from behind me. I turn, needing to see that proud, cocky grin he wears while he watches me, but instead there is concern in those slate gray orbs. I should not be surprised; nothing is hidden from his hawk's eye.
All it takes is that one word – my name – and the emotional charge of hearing it come from his lips, and I feel tears flow down my cheeks. I crumple to my knees and before I register that he's moved, he's in front of me. I pull him forward and bury my face in his stomach.
"Whatever is wrong," he says "we'll get through it together."
Even with my nose pressed against his abdomen, there seems like there is an impossibly wide chasm between us and I wrap my arms around him, clawing my way up his back.
"Let it all out," he says and I feel his right hand in my hair, petting, caressing in a way no one, not even my mom, has dared to do. I can't scream, not even here in the safety of his arms. The voices in my head are shouting at me to be quiet, to pull myself together, to be a man in front of Takao, and to stop sniveling.
"I love you, Shin-chan," Takao says, and for an instant those voices are drowned out.
I sob until the front of his uniform is soaked through with my tears and snot. His left hand grips my shoulder tightly as I begin to hyperventilate.
"I won't let you go, not for anything, never," he promises, and the wings of the little bird relax, the tears slow, and my lungs finally find enough air to inflate. I release my death grip on Takao's back, but I don't move away.
"When you're ready, I'll listen," he offers.
I turn my head to the side and lay my left ear against his belly. I can't feel his heartbeat, but I can tell by the noises I hear that he hasn't eaten a proper breakfast again.
"Kaori," I whisper, but we both hear my voice break over her name. He tenses, but stays quiet. "She was hit by a car."
His draws air through teeth, a hissing, pained sound.
"Why are you here?" he asks.
"Dad said I needed my routine, but what I need is you," I say.
"You have me, always, I'm as close as a phone call."
"I know," I say, and finally I look up at him. He isn't smiling, but somehow the look of utter devotion he wears right now is almost enough.
He pulls back and kneels down where once again, I am taller, and he puts his head on my shoulder and his arms around my waist. He sighs against me.
"I think I may need to vomit," I say, ruining the moment.
"I'll hold your hair back."
"We're home," I announce as I slide the door open. Takao is right behind me, herding me like a dog. It is strange to enter the empty house. For seventeen years, Mom has never failed to welcome me. My home feels hostile and alien.
Takao changes into my father's slippers and encourages me to put on my own. I drop my bag by the door and almost, on instinct, put my cell phone on the table by the door, where the entire family plugs in at the end of the day, but I can't. It won't leave my side until I've heard.
"Call them," Takao says, misinterpreting my actions.
"They said they would call when there is news."
"Call them anyway."
I dial Dad's phone and he picks up on the third ring.
"She's out of surgery and doing well," he says before I even have the chance to ask. "She just came out. We'll be allowed to go back and wait with her in recovery soon."
"I'll come," I say.
"Not yet, stick to your routine and come after practice."
"I'm at home. Takao is with me."
"Let me speak to him," Dad says, and I hand the phone over without hesitation. All I can hear is Takao's side of the conversation. It mainly goes, yes, no, of course. He's nodding and looking at me while he speaks.
"I think you're right. He's dead on his feet. I'll try to get him to lie down for a few hours and then I'll come with him, if that's alright."
"Yes, sir, um, Otousan," he stutters over the word, so underused in his vocabulary. He hangs up without allowing me to say goodbye.
"Rest first, then we'll go together," he says to me.
Takao leads me to my bedroom and right now, that is probably a wise idea as I blunder after him. It has been almost thirty-six hours since I last slept. He slides my door open and then continues all the way through my room and opens the doors that lead to the outside. The breeze circulates and suddenly I feel a little less exhausted.
My futon is as I left it the night before, sheets and bedding strewn about. Takao tidies it, kneeling to one side.
"You will stay with me," I told him in an incredibly needy tone.
"Of course," he says, with the tiniest indication of a smirk on his lips.
Thanks to my Sara, my Beta Reader!