Fic ~ The Spectre of Sleep
So I'm getting the hang of writing little bits again. This piece was the result of a prompt over on twitter from JunPotato. It was supposed to be under 500 words but I kind of failed at that, sorry. It turns out, I can do 100 word drabbles or 1000+ word oneshots and there is no inbetween.
Prompt: Sho doesn't believe in ghosts. Aiba makes him believe.
Title: The Spectre of Sleep
Pairing: Sakuraiba, not overtly.
Rating: U
Summary: It's easy to forget that the liveliest member of Arashi has his own dangerous set of troubles. Prompt fic: Sho doesn't believe in ghosts. Aiba makes him believe.
Word count: 1100
The Spectre of Sleep
Miracle Boy, they called him once. Apparently for his uncanny good luck in unlikely situations. And yet, here he was, yet another surgery to fix a lung that seemed hell-bent on killing him. He hated it. Hated the helplessness of it all and having to rely on others to take care of his work. He knew they would, unquestioningly and without hesitation, but it bothered him still. His colleagues had all been to visit him at various points in the day, with various staff, managers, friends and family, all to wish him well, but it did little to lift his mood when he was alone again.
Then Sakurai arrived, alone and outside of visiting hours with a backpack full of manga and a deck of cards. “I know you tend to get fatalistic when you have too much time to think.” He explained quietly as he settled into the chair at Aiba Masaki’s bedside, and handed him a small stack of reading material. “So I thought I’d keep you company until they take you into theatre.”
“Thank you. You didn’t have to come back, but it makes me happy that you did.” Aiba was rarely shy about expressing his emotions, especially the happy ones. “I’ll be OK though. I’m used to this now.” He tried to reassure the older man with a dismissive shrug.
Sakurai Sho, however, had his concern for his friends well-being written all over his face. “That’s weird, isn’t it? This isn’t something you should be getting used to Masaki.”
“Well there’s no helping it, it just happens.”
“Maybe if you didn’t insist on pushing yourself so hard for your concert performances-”
“Oi!” Unwilling to hear Sakurai’s criticism of his high risk stunts, Aiba cut in quickly. “I won’t let it beat me; that’s why.” His tone was final, and to further illustrate the end of any discussion, he opened one of the comics and began to read.
Sakurai Sho sat back silently in his chair, accepting, for the moment, Masaki’s refusal to consider changing his workload. He was still sat quietly at Aiba’s side when the orderlies arrived to take the younger man to surgery, and Aiba knew, he would remain there until he returned from the procedure.
Hours later, and Sakurai had fallen into a deep sleep, slumped uncomfortably on the small hospital seat. And for the first time in a long time, he dreamed, events unfolding as clearly as if he were living them.
He was in a karaoke booth, a song from Arashi blasting through the speakers, but he did not know the words, and the screen displayed only gibberish. Panic began to rise in him. He didn’t know why, but he knew he was supposed to sing. Then Aiba strode into the room, and Sakurai realised he was dreaming and a wave of relief washed over him.
“Sho-kun, what are you doing?”
“Having a nightmare, I think. Or I was.”
In his dream, Aiba looked around the booth, noticed the nonsense words scrolling across the screen and heard the music which was Arashi-but not. “Uwa~ this happens to me all the time!” He exclaimed, sinking onto the bench across from Sho, arms folded confidently across his chest. “I wonder why you’re having my dreams?”
Sho shook his head, dreaming rarely made sense, so there was no harm in playing along, he supposed. “I’m the one who is asleep right now.”
“We both are. Except there’s a chance I might not wake up.”
The shock of that statement should have woken him, Sakurai thought to himself, isn’t that how it happened in the movies? If someone said something particularly unexpected in a dream, the sleeping person was supposed to jolt awake. But the scene before him did not change. Aiba sat before him with a wistful half smile and a shrug to greet Sakurai’s dumbfounded gaze.
“Well it’s the truth. This could be the end of me.”
“Don’t say that.” He chided the man, then got angry with himself. “Why am I arguing with a nightmare?”
“Geez, I’m not that scary Sho-kun.”
“You’re talking about dying.”
Dream Aiba agreed that the subject was scary, but insisted that he was not the nightmare. “I didn’t believe it could kill me the first time. But I thought it might take away my work, which felt worse. I was a teenager after all: I thought I was invincible. I think the universe has been trying to tell me all this time, and now it’s too late.”
“What’s too late?” He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.
“To learn that I’m not invincible. I should have listened to you.” Suddenly Aiba seemed sad. He wasn’t crying, and his face was not scrunched up in grief, but his whole expression broadcast sorrow. “I am dying Sho-kun. The doctors are doing everything they can but my heart has stopped twice already. This is the third time.”
He felt sick. He wasn’t sure a person could vomit in their sleep but it felt like he was about to find out. “Masaki-”
“I’m sorry I barged into your dream.”
Desperation coloured his voice and gave it volume he had not meant to add. “Listen to me now.” He commanded. “If you regret not listening before; listen to me now! You are not going to die today. Or tomorrow, or the day after that. Not for a very long time. You are going to stay right here and let the surgeons do their jobs.”
The dream apparition of his longtime friend was not convinced. “You don't even really believe that I'm here. You can't help me Sho-kun; no one can.”
“It doesn't matter what I believe, if I don't try, and something were to…. Just listen: I remember watching you hold your breath for nearly 2 minutes just for the challenge of it. You can hold on with the support of a room full of professionals long enough for them to fix you properly, OK.”
“I don't even know how long it has already been. Time is strange in dreams. Will you wait with me?”
Sakurai nodded, his hand reaching out to the younger man in an offer of solidarity. They sat like that for a long time, until the dream began to fade away from his consciousness and the steady beep of hospital machinery woke him gently.
Aiba was back in the bed in the private ward. He was pale, and oxygen was being delivered to him through a nose tube, but he was awake, watching Sakurai as he stirred.
The newscaster stretched his aching limbs, wincing as they creaked painfully. “Hey, how are you feeling?”
“I’ll live.” Aiba replied groggily, but with a hint of good humour, even as he was clearly drifting back to sleep. “Thanks for waiting.”
“It wasn't a problem, I'm off today anyway.”
“Uh-mm. I’m glad I listened to you.”
Aiba’s eyes were already closed by the time Sakurai registered the statement and every nerve in his body snapped taut. Because Aiba had not listened to him last night.
Except in his dream.
___________________________________
End.
Comments are loved ♥
Prompt: Sho doesn't believe in ghosts. Aiba makes him believe.
Title: The Spectre of Sleep
Pairing: Sakuraiba, not overtly.
Rating: U
Summary: It's easy to forget that the liveliest member of Arashi has his own dangerous set of troubles. Prompt fic: Sho doesn't believe in ghosts. Aiba makes him believe.
Word count: 1100
The Spectre of Sleep
Miracle Boy, they called him once. Apparently for his uncanny good luck in unlikely situations. And yet, here he was, yet another surgery to fix a lung that seemed hell-bent on killing him. He hated it. Hated the helplessness of it all and having to rely on others to take care of his work. He knew they would, unquestioningly and without hesitation, but it bothered him still. His colleagues had all been to visit him at various points in the day, with various staff, managers, friends and family, all to wish him well, but it did little to lift his mood when he was alone again.
Then Sakurai arrived, alone and outside of visiting hours with a backpack full of manga and a deck of cards. “I know you tend to get fatalistic when you have too much time to think.” He explained quietly as he settled into the chair at Aiba Masaki’s bedside, and handed him a small stack of reading material. “So I thought I’d keep you company until they take you into theatre.”
“Thank you. You didn’t have to come back, but it makes me happy that you did.” Aiba was rarely shy about expressing his emotions, especially the happy ones. “I’ll be OK though. I’m used to this now.” He tried to reassure the older man with a dismissive shrug.
Sakurai Sho, however, had his concern for his friends well-being written all over his face. “That’s weird, isn’t it? This isn’t something you should be getting used to Masaki.”
“Well there’s no helping it, it just happens.”
“Maybe if you didn’t insist on pushing yourself so hard for your concert performances-”
“Oi!” Unwilling to hear Sakurai’s criticism of his high risk stunts, Aiba cut in quickly. “I won’t let it beat me; that’s why.” His tone was final, and to further illustrate the end of any discussion, he opened one of the comics and began to read.
Sakurai Sho sat back silently in his chair, accepting, for the moment, Masaki’s refusal to consider changing his workload. He was still sat quietly at Aiba’s side when the orderlies arrived to take the younger man to surgery, and Aiba knew, he would remain there until he returned from the procedure.
Hours later, and Sakurai had fallen into a deep sleep, slumped uncomfortably on the small hospital seat. And for the first time in a long time, he dreamed, events unfolding as clearly as if he were living them.
He was in a karaoke booth, a song from Arashi blasting through the speakers, but he did not know the words, and the screen displayed only gibberish. Panic began to rise in him. He didn’t know why, but he knew he was supposed to sing. Then Aiba strode into the room, and Sakurai realised he was dreaming and a wave of relief washed over him.
“Sho-kun, what are you doing?”
“Having a nightmare, I think. Or I was.”
In his dream, Aiba looked around the booth, noticed the nonsense words scrolling across the screen and heard the music which was Arashi-but not. “Uwa~ this happens to me all the time!” He exclaimed, sinking onto the bench across from Sho, arms folded confidently across his chest. “I wonder why you’re having my dreams?”
Sho shook his head, dreaming rarely made sense, so there was no harm in playing along, he supposed. “I’m the one who is asleep right now.”
“We both are. Except there’s a chance I might not wake up.”
The shock of that statement should have woken him, Sakurai thought to himself, isn’t that how it happened in the movies? If someone said something particularly unexpected in a dream, the sleeping person was supposed to jolt awake. But the scene before him did not change. Aiba sat before him with a wistful half smile and a shrug to greet Sakurai’s dumbfounded gaze.
“Well it’s the truth. This could be the end of me.”
“Don’t say that.” He chided the man, then got angry with himself. “Why am I arguing with a nightmare?”
“Geez, I’m not that scary Sho-kun.”
“You’re talking about dying.”
Dream Aiba agreed that the subject was scary, but insisted that he was not the nightmare. “I didn’t believe it could kill me the first time. But I thought it might take away my work, which felt worse. I was a teenager after all: I thought I was invincible. I think the universe has been trying to tell me all this time, and now it’s too late.”
“What’s too late?” He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.
“To learn that I’m not invincible. I should have listened to you.” Suddenly Aiba seemed sad. He wasn’t crying, and his face was not scrunched up in grief, but his whole expression broadcast sorrow. “I am dying Sho-kun. The doctors are doing everything they can but my heart has stopped twice already. This is the third time.”
He felt sick. He wasn’t sure a person could vomit in their sleep but it felt like he was about to find out. “Masaki-”
“I’m sorry I barged into your dream.”
Desperation coloured his voice and gave it volume he had not meant to add. “Listen to me now.” He commanded. “If you regret not listening before; listen to me now! You are not going to die today. Or tomorrow, or the day after that. Not for a very long time. You are going to stay right here and let the surgeons do their jobs.”
The dream apparition of his longtime friend was not convinced. “You don't even really believe that I'm here. You can't help me Sho-kun; no one can.”
“It doesn't matter what I believe, if I don't try, and something were to…. Just listen: I remember watching you hold your breath for nearly 2 minutes just for the challenge of it. You can hold on with the support of a room full of professionals long enough for them to fix you properly, OK.”
“I don't even know how long it has already been. Time is strange in dreams. Will you wait with me?”
Sakurai nodded, his hand reaching out to the younger man in an offer of solidarity. They sat like that for a long time, until the dream began to fade away from his consciousness and the steady beep of hospital machinery woke him gently.
Aiba was back in the bed in the private ward. He was pale, and oxygen was being delivered to him through a nose tube, but he was awake, watching Sakurai as he stirred.
The newscaster stretched his aching limbs, wincing as they creaked painfully. “Hey, how are you feeling?”
“I’ll live.” Aiba replied groggily, but with a hint of good humour, even as he was clearly drifting back to sleep. “Thanks for waiting.”
“It wasn't a problem, I'm off today anyway.”
“Uh-mm. I’m glad I listened to you.”
Aiba’s eyes were already closed by the time Sakurai registered the statement and every nerve in his body snapped taut. Because Aiba had not listened to him last night.
Except in his dream.
___________________________________
End.
Comments are loved ♥