RP Log: Fuji and Ohtori

[tensai_in_tokyo]

Characters : Fuji Shuusuke, Ohtori Choutarou
Date : Right after this log
Rating : G
Summary : Ohtori is summoned to the hospital ... by Fuji.



Fuji took a deep breath as he sat on the bench beside the doors to the operating theater. They had wheeled Shishido in there just now, and Fuji sighed softly as he threw a glance at the lit "operation in progress" light above the doors for the umpteenth time. It wouldn't be over that quickly, he knew, but Fuji couldn't help but worry.

Now that Shishido was inside, Fuji had a dilemma on his hands. By all rights, he should call Ohtori. Shishido's lover--Fuji felt a pang every time he thought of those two words--had a right to know. But Fuji found himself dreading the call, if only because Fuji felt irrationally guilty every time he thought of Ohtori. All's fair in love and war, Fuji thought to himself as he stuffed his cellphone back into his pockets.

He sat there for half a minute, staring off into space, before groaning softly and pulling the cellphone out again. Shishido would never forgive him if he had the chance and didn't tell Ohtori. More importantly, Fuji knew he wouldn't forgive himself. Ohtori didn't know what had gone on between Fuji and Shishido, and it wasn't fair to try and ambush him, even as much as that old adage might hold true.

He dialled Ohtori's number before he could change his mind, and held the phone to his ear, listening to the ringing tone.

Ohtori had been sitting in his apartment most of the night, watching his silent cellphone on the table with something akin to uneasiness. He couldn't help but feel unsettled, having missed Shishido's call while he was out having dinner and then unable to connect when he had the chance to call him back. So always the worrier, he was unable to shrug it off, and only after an hour of just staring at his phone, he was finally able to delve into music. Sitting in front of his apartment's piano made him able to vent some of the anxiety at least, but all attempt to sooth himself was quickly undone when his cell finally rang.

Hands stopping short from their journey across the keys, Ohtori bolted, stumbling across the room to snatch his phone up. He didn't allow himself time to check and see who it was as he blindly pressed it to his ear, hopeful and concerned. "Ryou??"

"Fuji," the photographer replied on reflex. The hope he heard in Ohtori's voice and the way in which Ohtori had said Shishido's name made his heart twist just a little more and his voice catch in his throat. Ohtori still cared, and that just made Fuji feel like something even lower than the lowest of lifeforms.

What the hell am I thinking? For a moment, Fuji considered hanging up, but he'd already identified himself. Besides, Ohtori deserved to know. So Fuji coughed a bit, to clear his throat, then ploughed on. "Have you heard from Shishido?"

Ohtori froze upon being corrected on who it was, embarrassment flooding him. "Oh… um… my apologies, Fuji-san." And it took him a moment to gather his wits together, where he found his worry again and a great wonderment as to why the other was calling. Whatever it was, he couldn't help but feel nervous and unsure about it--he hadn't heard of or from Fuji in a while. But then he went ahead and asked that question, almost making Ohtori drop his cellphone.

"Wh-what?" He went a little wide-eyed and had to sit down on the couch. Swallowing, he wet his lips before trying to speak again. "I mean, yes, he did try to call earlier, but I haven't been able to reach him, why?" Why was he saying this so willingly? And why would Fuji be wondering?

Last chance to hang up, say you're just wondering, just leave ... But Fuji kicked his inner voice hard.

"Ohtori-kun, I'm at the hospital," Fuji said, naming the one the ambulance had brought them to. "Shishido probably called me after he couldn't get you. I'll be in the lobby. I'll fill you in when you get here." That was all Fuji could bring himself to say before he could stand it no more, and hung up. Staring at the cellphone, Fuji buried his face between his knees and allowed himself a soft sob.

Stupid Fuji Shuusuke ... the voice in his head said sadly. And Fuji agreed, wiped the lone tear that had appeared, and stood up. He glanced at the light over the operating theater, and then headed for the lobby.

This must have been what it felt like when your heart stopped. Everything paused and a deep sense of dread washed over you, leaving you frozen. That's how Ohtori felt, the phone limp in his hand with the word "hospital" repeating over and over into his mind. The daze was long to shake off, leaving him with a million questions and an overwhelming fear, but he had no chance to voice any as he hear the other line hang up. That small click was what brought him the rest of the way back to reality. "Oh gods, no."

Shoving his cellphone into his pocket, Ohtori raced to pull on his shoes before leaving, not even bothering to grab a coat as he rushed his way to the nearest bus stop, then waited with the utmost impatience for its arrival at the hospital. It seemed like eternity before he was in the lobby, out of breath and looking around wildly, desperate to spot Fuji. Nothing was on his mind now other than that and the continuous mantra of, Gods, Ryou, please be alright, please be okay, please.

Fuji was on a sofa, eyes staring off into unfocused space as his mind whirled, full of jumbled-up thoughts of Shishido and Ohtori. How was Shishido doing? Would he be alright? Who had beaten Shishido like that? Should he keep Shishido's condition from Ohtori? Tell Ohtori everything? What about waiting for Shishido? Would they talk in the lobby, or the waiting area outside the operating theater?

He heard more than saw Ohtori enter the lobby, and snapped back into reality. Fuji watched the younger man for a moment, and he felt even more like a heel as he took in Ohtori's obvious concern and worry. Fuji stood up. "Ohtori-kun," he said, gesturing.

Ohtori was a second away from completely breaking down to a rather shameful sense of helplessness when he heard his name. Spinning on his, there was a moment's pause when his eyes befell the other, but then his feet were moving, driving him to move forward and scramble for any remains of control. Though he wasn't too surprised when he came up short, another sense of shock setting in as he grabbed Fuji's arm. "What happened?? Where is Ryou?!"

And as if his own voice woke him, his grasp quickly withdrew, the remains of colors fading from his already pale face. "Ah… I'm--sorry…" That was the second time that evening he had to apologize, but he reasoned that it couldn't be helped when he was in shambles. "Fuji-san… Please, what happened? Is Ryou alright?"

Fuji avoided Ohtori's eyes, sitting down on the sofa and looking away out the paneled glass wall that seperated them from the outside world. "Shishido called me and asked me to get him. Someone beat him up pretty badly and left him out on the streets." To die, Fuji thought with an internal shudder as he closed his eyes. "I called for an ambulance and waited with him until help arrived."

"He's in the operating theater right now. They tell me he'll be fine when he gets out." He wondered he he should tell Ohtori how Shishido looked, but couldn't find the words to say it ... so Fuji didn't.

"Oh gods…" Sitting beside him was all Ohtori could do, gaze fixed on his hands as Fuji explained it all. The information didn't do much for settling his nerves, but when he did hear Shishido was going to be alright, he allowed himself a bit of relief. The rest of the contentment just had to wait until he saw his lover and confirmed it for himself.

Resting his elbows on his knees, Ohtori buried his face in his hands. "Oh gods…" he repeated. "Why? If only I had picked up…" And he cursed himself for having gone out for dinner, for not having heard his phone ringing, but the guilt dissolved easier than the rest of his distraught emotions and he lifted his gaze, looking over at his companion. Things could have been worse, right? Far worse, though it wasn't as if this wasn't enough to leave him with a desperate need to see and be with his boyfriend. Gods, he needed to be at his side now. "Thank you…Fuji-san--for being with him. For getting him here. I can't thank you enough."

Overwhelming guilt washed over him, threatening to drown him in its wake. The tensai wondered idly what it must be like to be able to scream out one's frustrations. He'd never had cause for it before, but he felt as if the lump in his throat would never go away unless he forced it out with a scream that tore his throat. Damn you for the guilt, Ohtori! the inner voice said.

Fuji didn't look at Ohtori, tried hard not to look at him. "Operating Theater 3," Fuji said, and the closed eyes turned towards Ohtori, empty smile in place. "Don't thank me." Fuji hoped Ohtori wouldn't notice the choking of his voice.

Perhaps Ohtori did notice it, even just a bit though he was so centered on his lover, so that may have been why he strayed there for just a few more moments, watching Fuji. He couldn't understand how the other could brush off the thanks like that, but maybe it was from the shock. Fuji had been there after all, had been at Shishido's side during his worst, so maybe he could forgive it--not that he'd ever think to withdraw that thanks.

Biting his lower lip, Ohtori may not have offered it aloud again, but he still held his appreciation for the other man, standing and touching his shoulder lightly before quickly turned and heading over to the operating theaters. He had too much nervous energy to be sitting around anyways, so perhaps pacing, being as close to Shishido as possible right then, would help.

Fuji watched Ohtori go from beneath lidded eyes, and when Ohtori had turned the corner, Fuji allowed himself a moment of broken despair as he rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his palms.

He stayed there some time, unaware of how long time had passed. Finally, though, Fuji removed his hands and sat up again. He stood, dusting himself off, before heading back to the operating theater. There was some unfinished business, though Fuji wasn't sure how he was going to handle it.

Ohtori should have been there, Ohtori should have been the one Shishido could rely on through everything, Fuji thought, trying to work up some modicum of righteous anger. He needed that, to be able to talk to Ohtori without the overwhelming urge to dig a hole and hide from those innocent eyes, not at all aware of what Fuji wanted to do to his boyfriend.

Ohtori didn't hear Fuji when he approached. He was still on his feet, still hovering outside the doors and not doing much more than worrying. He had surrendered to the thought of being incredibly useless a while ago and vented what concern he could by chewing on his lip. He never felt more detached, even after he split it with his own teeth and continued to work at the sore flesh--his detachment rendering his pain to nothing. So he continued to wait, quietly, trembling slightly in the stale hall, or at least until his ears proved they still worked, finally allowing him to acknowledge the footsteps.

Looking over his shoulder, the expression remained. "Fuji-san…"

Fuji's closed-eyed smile was still on his face, but in the period of time it had taken him to walk back to the waiting area, Fuji had gotten increasingly worked up. He ignored Ohtori at first, walking past him to lean back against the wall beside the doors to the operating theater. Glancing up, Fuji noted the lit "operation in progress" light briefly before turning to actually look at Ohtori. He's split his lip with worry, inner Fuji said, and Fuji looked away before the guilt that hovered could settle in again.

"So where were you when Shishido needed you the most, Ohtori-kun?" The voice was deceptively soft.

As soft as they were, they still managed to pierce through Ohtori. He winced, as if the pain from his lip was finally registered and looked down, shifting his feet. "I…" And this time he didn't even wonder why he was answering Fuji so easily. It might have simply been because he was so crippled and vulnerable--still thus as he rubbed his arm in a slightly chilled gesture. "I…" he tried again, his mood darkening even more if it was at all possible. "I have no excuse that can measure up to what I have done. I wasn't there because I was out… missed the call because of my own ignorance--gods this is all my fault."

Fuji was frustrated and angry. He had been the one to save Shishido. He had been the one who was there holding Shishido's hand, praying hard for the ambulance to arrive in time. He had been the one reassuring Shishido that everything was going to be alright. He'd saved Shishido, Fuji knew.

And yet Ohtori would be the one Shishido would turn to while he recovered. The thought repeated itself in Fuji's mind, over and over and over again until Fuji had to fight the urge to stifle his ears. Damn Ohtori, damn him for his complete monopoly over Shishido's heart, damn him for not having been around for Shishido, damn him for existing in the first place. "Want to know what Shishido looked like when I found him, Ohtori-kun?" Fuji's eyes were still closed, but his voice shook with repressed anger. "The first thing I saw was his shoe, then his leg, then the blood on the floor."

Fuji continued mercilessly, not even watching Ohtori for a reaction. "Shishido was covered in bruises, and his right arm had been slashed. His fingers were, too." Fuji fingered his shirt, which, though dark, and patterned in black, revealed upon much closer inspection some parts where the colours weren't quite black, where the splotches didn't fit the pattern. "He was curled up, fetal position, coughing up blood. Had I not gotten there in time, Ohtori-kun, Shishido would have died."

All it took was Fuji to start talking, for him to speak and continue with those cruel words for Ohtori to freeze up. He stared, wide-eyed, frozen from a pain that was swelling in his heart as him mind wrapped itself around the image, burning into the back of his eyes. And he choked out a sob before he could hold it back, one hand covering his mouth in horror, dread, disbelief as he stumbled backwards and into a wall, his other hands pressed flat against it as it gave him his only support. For within that painful description, he could see--as clear as day--that he had almost lost him.

And then there was that dawning truth, the fact that he hadn't been there. That he had done nothing and it broke his heart to dwell on it. So he slid down the wall, knees drawn up to his chest as that mask of shock fell, leaving him to feel the hot tears that slid down his cheeks, but other than that, he was silent, not making a sound for he allowed himself to suffer. That misery was all he deserved in that moment, and when he finally did open his mouth, his voice was equally soft. Uneven and no matter how much he didn't trust it, he still had something to say. "I… Thank you… for… telling me that… Fuji-san…"

"Stop thanking me." Fuji had run out of things to say, and Ohtori's reaction left nothing for Fuji's anger to feed on. It burned itself out, leaving nothing but a painful emptiness in Fuji's chest. He'd lashed out in anger, and didn't even have anything to show for the pain he'd caused them both.

Fuji re-crossed his arms over his chest, his head leaned back against the wall. With his eyes closed, he stayed silent like that for a long while.

Ohtori remained huddled on the floor, all but cowering in the heavy atmosphere Fuji had place over him, and there he dwelled, trapped in his thoughts. He still felt cold, shaking from that and the silent sobs that tore through him, but he gaze no wish nor want for a coat that he'd neglected to bring. He was frigid, heartless for having abandoned Shishido like that, so he'd rather crush himself by remaining in that state. Some lover he was.

Thus the darker thoughts consumed him, eating away at the edges of his shattered control and hope, or the light and that song in his heart. He had thought life extinguished it before, but now to have this happen… To leave Shishido to die… Ohtori lost all respect for himself. He rested his forehead against his knees and held onto that silence. The new silence of his soul, for even in such a void, music was now forgotten.

When had he become so cruel?

His guilt had returned, now that the anger had receded, and he opened his eyes to look at Ohtori. Fuji felt a stab in his chest with each silent sob that shook the other man. Ohtori didn't deserve this. Shishido didn't deserve this either. What place was it for Fuji to torture Shishido's lover--another wince--this way? From the way Shishido talked about Ohtori, and the way Ohtori had gotten here, the concern Ohtori had shown for Shishido ... Fuji was being a cruel, cold-hearted, selfish bastard, and he knew it.

"You didn't know," Fuji said reluctantly, as close to a peace offering as he could offer. "It isn't fair for me say it's your fault. It's no one's." Fuji sighed softly. "I'm sorry."

Fuji meant it for the words he had said, yes, but also for so many other things. Sorry that he couldn't help Shishido more. Sorry that he felt the way he did about Shishido. Sorry that he couldn't find it in his heart to drop those feelings.

The light above the doors clicked off, and Fuji's head snapped towards the doors.

Ohtori wasn't sure if he was hearing correctly. The words that were coming from the other sounded so distant, so muddled and hard to make out, barely penetrating the pitiful gloom he dwelled in. Though by the words or not, his tears ran dry, leaving him exhausted, spend from all those emotions that were still working to tear him apart. For what a glorious feeling that would be: to lay broken and bleeding, just as his lover had. The price for making Shishido suffer what he did.

Though he was interrupted. In the corner of his vision, he saw Fuji's attention avert elsewhere, so he too looked up in time to see the operating theater's doors swing open and a gurney come out, followed by several nurses and doctors. Ohtori didn't know how he managed to stumble to his feet in time, eyes nervous and fearful as they were finally given a change to look upon his boyfriend: pale and bandaged and almost unrecognizable. His heart broke all over again.

But then a nurse was saying something and he was pushed away, left to watch the gurney and his lover being quickly transported down the hall, leaving him to catch a stray doctor and demand what was going on and how Shishido was. The determination and steadiness of his voice even surprised him, but perhaps finally seeing the mad that held his heart was enough to give him the strength to stand again. And thankfully, the doctor had good news, explaining the injuries to him and Shishido's condition, and even what room number he was being brought to. And to think all he needed to confidently say was that he was Shishido's boyfriend to get the information, and after thanking the doctor tenfold, he looked around for Fuji.

Ignoring Ohtori, Fuji followed the gurney, trailing behind nurses and sundry while they wheeled Shishido down the hall, around the corner, down another hall, into an elevator. Fuji tried to squeeze in behind them, but a nurse stopped him. "Stairs," she said sternly, but she gave Fuji the room number as Fuji opened his mouth to ask.

By the time Fuji arrived at the room, the nurses had transferred Shishido to the hospital cot and were carefully tucking him in for the night. Fuji hovered nearby, staying out of their way, keeping quiet. When the nurses finished and left the room, no one told Fuji he had to leave, so the photographer stayed. Standing beside Shishido's bed, he picked up Shishido's uninjured left hand, stroking it gently. "Shishido," Fuji said softly, hoping for a response, though none came. Shishido was still unconscious.

Who knew how long it would take before he woke up? Fuji didn't know, but he was staying until Shishido recovered consciousness. Somehow. As he heard the door open, Fuji dropped Shishido's hand back onto the bed and moved to the corner window quickly; as long as no one told him to leave, he was going to wait while sitting on the windowsill. He hoped that wasn't a nurse remembering that Fuji shouldn't be in here.

Realizing the photographer was nowhere to be found, Ohtori hastily made his way up to the room indicated, peering around cautiously now and again to make sure he was heading in the right direction. The doctor's words were still being rotated in his mind as he went, repeated over and over until they were imprinted in his memory--their significance outweighing any other thought. Or more importantly, any mask or numbing emotion that had weighed him down beforehand. So even though he still dwelled beneath those deep waters, something had stirred some strength, some un-doubtable confidence and protectiveness. Perhaps it was his deep love for Shishido that was finally kicking him into not being so selfish

Thus Ohtori was more settled when he found the room, slowly peeking his head in. He wasn't at all surprised when Fuji was the first thing he saw, but his gaze didn't linger. Stepping into the room, he closed the door behind him, his expression becoming soft as it fixed upon his boyfriend. In a few long strides, he was finally at his side, finally able to touch his unbandaged hand and know he was really there and safe and alive. And it didn't matter how oblivious he was to how someone else had held that hand moments earlier, or even how Fuji was in the room with them as he leaned over, placing a soft kiss on Shishido's knuckles. "I'm so sorry, Ryou," he whispered.

Fuji bit his lip as he saw Ohtori taking Shishido's hand. He looked outside quickly, but it was dark enough beyond the window that everything in the room was clearly reflected on the smooth inside surface of the window. Transfixed, Fuji watched Ohtori kiss Shishido's hand, and he couldn't look away this time, because if he turned he'd be watching it happen for real. So instead, Fuji closed his eyes, his smile back on his face, and pretended Ohtori wasn't in the room.

Keeping Shishido's hand in his own, Ohtori reached out with his other and idly brushed his lover's hair, carefully petting him. It was the least he could do: stay with him now and bear the grueling wait for him to wake up. Yes, Ohtori was anxious for that, but Shishido couldn't help but hope he would get his much needed rest, and perhaps not be in so much pain when he awoke. Seeing his lover hurt tore him apart, so to have him express it was going to be far worse. Glancing at the IV, the violinist finally felt the other's shadowing presence again and swallowed. "Fuji-san…are you going to stay?" He turned, looking over his shoulder to offer the soft look to him too. "Please stay?"

Fuji watched Ohtori's face in the window, and hated himself for wanting something he probably should never have. "If you'll have me," he said after some time, closing his eyes both to block out Ohtori's face and to hide from the sight of Shishido, lying there. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, hmm, Ohtori? Fuji thought, and then shook his head lightly to clear that thought out of his head. He rested his forehead against the cool glass pane.

"Will you stay until he wakes up?" Fuji asked.

Though Ohtori's intentions were nothing less then genuine. Perhaps he was too oblivious of the other man and the thoughts and feelings he held, though what was more possible is that he wasn't oblivious, he just couldn't see it for he was blind to all else. The only person he could really see was Shishido. "I'd like you to stay," he replied gently, yet he found the photographer's question rather odd. Wasn't that a given? He showed no sign of moving anywhere too soon, brushing his thumb over the back of his boyfriend's pale hand. "Hai. And I'm staying. There's no place I'd rather be than at Ryou's side right now. I need to stay."

"Maa, we can keep each other company," Fuji said, his famous smile finally firmly in place. The photographer leaned his head back against the frame of the window as he pulled up a knee to his chest and rested it on the sill in front of him.

He stared outside the window for a while, seeming to be watching the city lights. Instead Fuji looked at the reflections off the glass. He watched Ohtori, sitting beside Shishido, clasping that hand which Fuji had just held not too long ago. He watched the rise and fall of Shishido's chest, subtle and faint but very obviously there. He studied what he could of Shishido's face and contours, and he watched the way the silver-haired man hovered beside Shishido.

Fuji closed his eyes, unwilling to see more. "Ne, Ohtori-kun, why do you love him?"

Ohtori was unaware of the other's shifting attention, didn't know he or his boyfriend were being watched for he never looked over his shoulder. Politeness was set aside in light of his raw concern, joining the suppressed, terrible guilt and the loathing he'd submitting himself to not long ago. Surely it still fluttered there, waiting to rise, but such contrasting emotions made him all the more uneasy and unstable. Thus he clung to that hand, that face, that reassurance that Shishido was going to be alright. If his lover was alright, then he could push away the churning sense of selfishness and step forward for him, with him. Ideals like that.

So Fuji was background noise, a presence he was aware of in the back of his mind yet could not place. Who was the ex-Regular? Shishido knew him more than himself, and it was through the photographer and an incident that Ohtori and his boyfriend were finally able to face each other with the utmost honesty and confess their feelings. So surely he had more to thank Fuji for than he ever thought possible?

Though if he kept asking these odd questions, Ohtori wouldn't be sure what to think. Especially with this once catching him completely off guard. He flushed, staring at Shishido's hand in his before brown eyes trailed up his arm to look at his face--that beautiful, handsome face, no matter how bandaged and bruised it was. If Ohtori could confess it, he would say he falls in love with Shishido all over again every time he looks upon the other, every time he speaks. But he instead he thought, trying to pick out one thing above the rest that could power such a love, but he came to no conclusion. The area was too vast and it made him blush harder as he started to speak. "I… Why do I love him? I've… I've loved Ryou for a long time, and… I think… years ago… it was his strength and determination I first fell for. But now… Now I can't think of a reason why I wouldn't love him. I love Ryou for everything he is, everything he does, and everyday I thank him for giving me this feeling."

Listening to Ohtori, Fuji could only feel helplessness. How could he go against that? Fuji hated Ohtori, a quick flare of intense emotion, but that was a momentary flare that quickly faded, giving way to despondency. He didn't know if he loved Shishido like Ohtori did. Was it a temporary crush borne of desperation? Was he clinging to the first person who showed him kindness and friendship?

Fuji leaned his head against the cool glass, and fell silent, settling down to wait. No matter what his issues were with Shishido and Ohtori's relationship were, the most important thing now was Shishido's recovery. The only reason why you even have issues is because you're trying to steal his boyfriend, Fuji's inner voice accused. The photographer kept quiet, sitting on the windowsill, drawing into himself. Maybe he could stay like this forever, Fuji mused absently.