I'm okay, I promise
Well, fuck. Things have caught up to me, finally. Drinking, not sleeping, and overstressing is bad for anyone, but it was enough to push me off the edge, medically.
I’ve always known that my old ticker’s not too good. I never went to the doctors about it for two key reasons: I didn’t think it was that bad, and I hate doctors/hospitals with a passion. But…
Ever heard of heart arrhythmia? Yeah, that’s me. My heart’s gimp.
…usually, only old people have arrhythmias, but when it’s congenital…
Anyway. I had a little episode, I passed out, and Shikamaru called 911 for me. That makes it---what---the third time he’s saved my life? Ehhhhh. Man, Shika, you need to stop saving my ass, because I’m not sure what I can do to make it up to you. I’m in for observation right now, and they’re going to put me on pills.
I’m going to be okay. Really. Yes, Ino, I’m talking to you. I’m eating, I can have visitors---hell, at the moment, I’m sitting up, typing on my laptop, and wearing my Jayne hat just because it makes the nurses giggle. I’m just…hooked up to a lot of shit at the moment…as things go, it could have turned out a hell of a lot worse. Read the sub-header describing “sudden death”. That got to me a little, yeah…
It was a good day for television. Well, honestly, it was a good day for cooking and television, and he was planning to take advantage of both. So far, the pancakes were cooking, and a cheesy B-grade movie about mutated snake-fish was on the Sci-Fi channel.
Shikamaru walked up to the Akimichi house. He knocked on the door and waited for an answer.
Pink blood was spurting from the man's neck and Chouji, being the sucker for bad movies that he was, was yelling at the screen to run. Someone knocked on the door, but the TV had him as its thrall; he shouted "COME IN!" over his shoulder.
Shikamaru grumbled as he walked in seeing Chouji sprawled out on the couch. "And you wonder why your imagination is running rampant these days" he said putting his hands on his hips as he stood at the end of the couch.
"I'm sorry, but low-budget flicks have been the only reason for me to stay awake," he chuckled. "Life's been boring."
"At least find something worth your time to watch..." he grumbled out pushing at his feet for him to make spot for him to sit down at.
Chouji drew up his knees, grinning haphazardly. "I've been tired, lately, and maybe a little Nara has rubbed off. I couldn't find the remote, so I'm okay with keeping it here."
Shikamaru put his hand to his head. The room was spinning and his head hurt. "Yeah" he said weakly.
Chouji sat up a little more, peering at him. "You okay, man? You don't look so hot."
"Your room is spinning" he replied. Maybe he sat down to fast.
"Uhh, no, it's not," Chouji said, and reached over, putting his palm to his forehead. "Huh. You don't feel feverish..."
"I'm not sick...." he said softly.
"Then what's wrong?" Chouji asked, honestly worried.
"I got a hangover..." he said quickly, turning his head. Hoping that he didn't catch that last part.
Chouji gritted his teeth. He wasn't going to yell. He wasn't going to hit. Temari had been right in that his 'bully' impulse was flying a little too close for comfort, and he wasn't going to allow that full reign. "...you've been drinking again?"
"Last night was the first time I swear to god....." he said just as quickly.
"Yeah?" Chouji growled, getting off the couch and stomping into the kitchen. Not going to start a fight. Not right now. "Keep telling that to yourself. Maybe you'll actually keep your promise."
"Chouji....." he said getting up and following him into the kitchen. "Hold on a minute will you...."
"Hold on for what?" Chouji snapped, his eyes narrowed. "So that you can make another excuse? Let me guess---it was Temari. What a fucking surprise."
"No, it wasn't." he said coldly.
"Really?" Chouji growled, stiff as his fingers bit into the edge of the kitchen counter. "Got a new reason to fuck yourself up? Great, good job."
"Damn it Chouji! Stop alright. I'm not going to go out and drink myself into an oblivion here. My nerves were shot. I'm failing. If I fail I don't get that scholarship. I don't get that scholarship and my plans are shot to shit! Do you get that? Do you understand that this is the first time the old man has ever been proud of me for something?..." he said his voice shaking a bit.
"So you drink?" Chouji whispered hoarsely, his chest tightening as he tried to fight down the feelings of betrayal. Shikamaru probably didn't understand why he took it so personally, but...but promises meant more to him than anything else.
"I had one fucking drink Chouji. Let's not rain down the apocalypse here."
"Yeah, one drink," he said quietly. "One drink you promised me you wouldn't take; one more step to becoming everything you don't want to be---"
"It's hard alright?" he said sternly. "I can't go from having drank my ass off for two months to none at all in week's time. I slipped. Okay, I admit that. I fucking slipped. I paid hell for that to from Temari last night!"
Chouji closed his eyes. He was having a hard time breathing again, which he chalked up to anything he could think of: stress, excitement, anything that could explain it away. He'd been doing it for years, after all. "I know it's hard. That doesn't mean you can't---you can't come to me and ask for help. I mean, shit Shikamaru..."
"What?" he asked sternly.
"Why can't you---can't you---trust me? I know I've been an asshole lately, but..." Chouji exhaled choppily.
"I do trust you Chouji. I've never stopped..." he said softly. "You were off with Ino last night....it was sitting on the counter. You know why I stare at the fucking ceiling so long? So that I don't drink. So help me Kami I slipped...."
He still couldn't breathe. He was calming down, but his heart was still stuttering, beating too hard, too fast. He could hear it in his ears, drowning out what Shikamaru was trying to say. "I---I'll just..."
"Chouji?" Shikamaru asked raising his eyebrow and uncrossing his arms. "You...you okay?"
Chouji leaned heavily against the counter, all the color drained from his features. Sweat was beading up on his face, and his breaths came in small, slow wheezes. "'M f-fine, buzz off..."
"No your not fine...." he said putting a hand on his friends shoulder.
He shrugged him off, ducking away from his touch. "I said I...I'm fine. L-leave me be."
"Damn it Chouji you're not fine. Where's your father?"
"Don't...know..." he ground out, wavering slightly on his feet. Dark spots were looming in his vision, and he could scarcely think.
"Damn it!" he snarled and pulled Chouji to the door. "Get in the car" he said in a brutal tone.
Chouji's knees unexpectedly gave out, and the darkness rolled into his vision.
"Shit!" Shikamaru yelled as he reached for the phone and dialed 911. It seemed like forever for the ambulance to get there, but they finally did. What the hell just happened? What the hell was going on? He couldn't help but feel responsible.
*
Chouji woke up to the slick, sterile whites of a hospital room. The scroll of a heart monitor beeped steadily in his left ear, and he groaned softly. Last thing he remembered...he was...what? His chest had ached, he remembered that much. He'd been yelling, and...?
Shikamaru shifted in the chair again in another odd position. He just couldn't get comfortable. He moved his foot and slipped, resulting in him sliding out of the chair and onto the floor. "Ow..." he said in a low groan as he looked up not bothering to move.
"I'd give you a blanket or something," Chouji said in a small, hoarse whisper, surprised at the sound of his own voice. "But I think I'm attached to too much shit." He groaned again, rolling over onto his side. "...what happened?"
"You blacked out..." he said getting up, hitting his head on the bar on the edge of the bed. "Shit..." he rubbed his head, and leaned back with his back up against the chair. He stayed sprawled out on the floor.
"Blacked out?" Chouji mumbled, blinking at the ceiling. "...is that like the masculine form of fainting?"
"Yeah...."
Chouji kept staring at the ceiling. He could hear his heartbeat scamper across the heart monitor, spiking. "...what's happening to me?"
"Your getting old....like me" he said mumbling.
"I'm sixteen," he said in a small voice. "I'm not supposed to be sick. I---I hate hospitals..."
"Tell me about it. The smell is enough to kill you."
"So...do they know what happened? I...I think I was just a little overtired," Chouji babbled, his hands fisting in the sheets. "I've been waking up a lot at night; maybe it was just---just that.'
"It's your heart" Shikamaru said sternly and in a serious tone.
"Right, I'm a big bleeding heart," he said, closing his eyes. "R-right? Only...only old men have heart problems."
"I'm serious Chouji" Shikamaru said in the same stern voice.
"My heart?" Chouji rolled away from him, curling up on his side. "...am I going to...die, Shika?"
"No, Chouji..." Shikamaru said in a heartfelt voice. "You need to slow down. Need to lay off the stress..."
There was an unexpectedly large lump in Chouji's throat. He didn't trust himself to talk just yet, so he just laid there, listening to Shikamaru's silence and the ever-steady beeps from the heart monitor.
"Take it easy buddy..." he said softly getting back up and sitting in the uncomfortable chair.
"I sort of knew," Chouji said softly, still turned away from him. "I kept waking up in the middle of the night with my chest hurting...but...I told myself it was nothing, you know? I didn't want anyone to worry."
Shikamaru shot a look over in his direction. A harsh, concerned one. "You never told me?"
"You were too busy drinking yourself numb," he said, though without any resentment. "You didn't need me...on top of everything else wrong..."
"You should have told me" he said harshly.
"And say what?" Chouji bit back. "'Gee, Shika, remember when we were kids and I had to sit out during the games at recess because my chest hurt when I ran? It never went away---it got worse.'"
He stood up, his hand gripping the railing on the side of the bed. "Hence you should have told me Chouji!" he said raising his voice. "I was your best friend. You would tell me everything....seems as of late you've been keeping more secrets than the truth...."
"...I..." Chouji closed his eyes, curling up a little tighter. "...just don't want to be the complicated one."
"Oh get over yourself Chouji...." he said huffing. "When did you stop wanting to tell me things?" he said slightly hurt.
"When you stopped wanting to hear about my problems. When your issues were dragging you down too far as it was..." he mumbled, still hoarse. Whatever they'd given him to keep him calm, it just ended up making him feel as if his head was stuffed with cotton.
"My problems are my problems. We both fucked it up. Both thought that it was better to keep it inside than to tell the other. I'm your best friend. That should mean something. Don't ever think you can't tell me what is wrong....ever..." he said, his voice straining.
"You are my best friend. You'll...you'll always be my best friend. I just didn't want to be a burden..." he gave a shuddering sigh. "Guess that worked real well, didn't it..."
"Your not a burden. Why can't you ever see that? Why can't you just be you and be happy with that? I am your friend because you are you...got that!"
Chouji's chin wobbled. Had he been less drugged up, he probably would have been able to pull himself together enough to cry properly. Still...a part of him didn't want to cry---he'd lost enough face in front of Shikamaru for one day. "...taken into consideration, yeah."
"Good" he said sternly sitting back down into the chair, arms crossed.
After a long moment of silence, Chouji rolled onto his back, resting his hands on his stomach. "Did someone call my Dad?"
"Of course...." he said in a softer tone than previous.
"...and Ino? S-she's gonna be so pissed at me for keeling over..."
"Oh yeah sure, she's going to come in and pound you with an inch of your life because you are in the hospital." he said sarcastically.
"Wouldn't put it past her, man...you know how she gets..." Chouji mumbled, licking his dry lips. "And here I am, lying here like a real tub o' lard 'cause my heart's gimp..."
"What's next? First this then my eyesight. Damn....I feel like I'm going to go grey here soon..."
"I'll probably beat you to it," he chuckled, and then winced, rubbing his chest. "...fuck this."
"You were born with this weren't you?" he asked suddenly.
Chouji waited a long moment before replying. "...yeah."
He nodded leaning back in his chair.
"It wasn't so bad when I was little..." Chouji said, trailing off as he plucked idly at the comforter. "I usually didn't tell Dad when I got the pains, unless they were really, really bad. You know me...Mr. No Conflict."
"You knew something was wrong though Chouji...you should have said something..." he said in a sad tone of voice.
"I'd hoped it'd go away," he mumbled, brushing his tangled hair out of his face. "I guess this was proof that it didn't."
Shikamaru only nodded again.
"Why am I always the one screwing up?" He asked, knotting his hands in his hair. "It---it isn't fair. Chouichi never had this shit. He never tried killing himself, o-or had this..." His voice lowered into a whisper. "...my dad..."
"Because you care so much. Chouichi's an ass anyway....."
"So I'm---I'm the one that gets to sit here with his name on a plastic bracelet on his wrist, hooked up to too many tubes...because I'm a little less of an ass?" His head lolled back onto the pillow.
"It's just the way it is Chouji....I don't know why. Those that usually care the most, are inflicted with the most."
"Yeah," he whispered, closing his eyes as crocodile tears slid down his temples. He was too tired to hold them back, and it wasn't in his nature, anyway. "I know that. I'm sorry you...you had to deal with this. It must've scared you..."
"We're both sorry....about a lot of things...alright?" Shikamaru said tilting his head, concern etched on his face. He placed his hand on Chouji's shoulder. "But it's okay...."
"I...hope so...I hope that they can fix this before...before I really hurt myself."
"Believe in yourself for once."
"And what do you mean by that?"
"Trust in yourself that you won't hurt yourself. Trust that you can overcome this. Don't worry so heavily on everyone else."
"You can't 'get better' from this..." Chouji said, a hand over his chest. "...I'm going to live with this for the rest of my life, if it doesn't kill me."
"If you slow down a bit....you may just surprise yourself..."
Chouji opened his eyes, rubbing his moist cheeks with one hand. "Did the doctors say anything...?"
"I don't know....I was mostly asleep. Pretty much what I've been telling you."
Chouji took a pillow out from under his elbow and feebly threw it in Shikamaru's direction. "You shit. I'm lying here on death's doorstep and you sleep?"
"You weren't dead...damn..." he said dodging the pillow before it hit him in the face.
"You're mean," Chouji groused, burying his face in the remaining pillow with a comically loud sigh.
"No I was tired....I already ran around like a maniac before we got to the hospital...wore me out."
"You, run? Is that possible?"
He glared over at Chouji. "Look you really want a heart problem?"
And for some reason, that was extremely funny to him. It was probably what the drugs were doing to his head. "Already have one, buddy. That's enough, even for a big boy like me."
He threw the pillow back at him, purposely so it would miss and land on the floor. "Get some sleep..." He said as he tried to get comfortable in the chair again. "Damn it....I should have kept that pillow..." he grumbled.
Chouji pulled out another pillow and handed it to him with a small grin. "You whiny bitch. Fine. I'll try to rest."
Shikamaru grabbed it only to slide out of the chair again. He just grumbled and curled up on the floor.
I’ve always known that my old ticker’s not too good. I never went to the doctors about it for two key reasons: I didn’t think it was that bad, and I hate doctors/hospitals with a passion. But…
Ever heard of heart arrhythmia? Yeah, that’s me. My heart’s gimp.
…usually, only old people have arrhythmias, but when it’s congenital…
Anyway. I had a little episode, I passed out, and Shikamaru called 911 for me. That makes it---what---the third time he’s saved my life? Ehhhhh. Man, Shika, you need to stop saving my ass, because I’m not sure what I can do to make it up to you. I’m in for observation right now, and they’re going to put me on pills.
I’m going to be okay. Really. Yes, Ino, I’m talking to you. I’m eating, I can have visitors---hell, at the moment, I’m sitting up, typing on my laptop, and wearing my Jayne hat just because it makes the nurses giggle. I’m just…hooked up to a lot of shit at the moment…as things go, it could have turned out a hell of a lot worse. Read the sub-header describing “sudden death”. That got to me a little, yeah…
It was a good day for television. Well, honestly, it was a good day for cooking and television, and he was planning to take advantage of both. So far, the pancakes were cooking, and a cheesy B-grade movie about mutated snake-fish was on the Sci-Fi channel.
Shikamaru walked up to the Akimichi house. He knocked on the door and waited for an answer.
Pink blood was spurting from the man's neck and Chouji, being the sucker for bad movies that he was, was yelling at the screen to run. Someone knocked on the door, but the TV had him as its thrall; he shouted "COME IN!" over his shoulder.
Shikamaru grumbled as he walked in seeing Chouji sprawled out on the couch. "And you wonder why your imagination is running rampant these days" he said putting his hands on his hips as he stood at the end of the couch.
"I'm sorry, but low-budget flicks have been the only reason for me to stay awake," he chuckled. "Life's been boring."
"At least find something worth your time to watch..." he grumbled out pushing at his feet for him to make spot for him to sit down at.
Chouji drew up his knees, grinning haphazardly. "I've been tired, lately, and maybe a little Nara has rubbed off. I couldn't find the remote, so I'm okay with keeping it here."
Shikamaru put his hand to his head. The room was spinning and his head hurt. "Yeah" he said weakly.
Chouji sat up a little more, peering at him. "You okay, man? You don't look so hot."
"Your room is spinning" he replied. Maybe he sat down to fast.
"Uhh, no, it's not," Chouji said, and reached over, putting his palm to his forehead. "Huh. You don't feel feverish..."
"I'm not sick...." he said softly.
"Then what's wrong?" Chouji asked, honestly worried.
"I got a hangover..." he said quickly, turning his head. Hoping that he didn't catch that last part.
Chouji gritted his teeth. He wasn't going to yell. He wasn't going to hit. Temari had been right in that his 'bully' impulse was flying a little too close for comfort, and he wasn't going to allow that full reign. "...you've been drinking again?"
"Last night was the first time I swear to god....." he said just as quickly.
"Yeah?" Chouji growled, getting off the couch and stomping into the kitchen. Not going to start a fight. Not right now. "Keep telling that to yourself. Maybe you'll actually keep your promise."
"Chouji....." he said getting up and following him into the kitchen. "Hold on a minute will you...."
"Hold on for what?" Chouji snapped, his eyes narrowed. "So that you can make another excuse? Let me guess---it was Temari. What a fucking surprise."
"No, it wasn't." he said coldly.
"Really?" Chouji growled, stiff as his fingers bit into the edge of the kitchen counter. "Got a new reason to fuck yourself up? Great, good job."
"Damn it Chouji! Stop alright. I'm not going to go out and drink myself into an oblivion here. My nerves were shot. I'm failing. If I fail I don't get that scholarship. I don't get that scholarship and my plans are shot to shit! Do you get that? Do you understand that this is the first time the old man has ever been proud of me for something?..." he said his voice shaking a bit.
"So you drink?" Chouji whispered hoarsely, his chest tightening as he tried to fight down the feelings of betrayal. Shikamaru probably didn't understand why he took it so personally, but...but promises meant more to him than anything else.
"I had one fucking drink Chouji. Let's not rain down the apocalypse here."
"Yeah, one drink," he said quietly. "One drink you promised me you wouldn't take; one more step to becoming everything you don't want to be---"
"It's hard alright?" he said sternly. "I can't go from having drank my ass off for two months to none at all in week's time. I slipped. Okay, I admit that. I fucking slipped. I paid hell for that to from Temari last night!"
Chouji closed his eyes. He was having a hard time breathing again, which he chalked up to anything he could think of: stress, excitement, anything that could explain it away. He'd been doing it for years, after all. "I know it's hard. That doesn't mean you can't---you can't come to me and ask for help. I mean, shit Shikamaru..."
"What?" he asked sternly.
"Why can't you---can't you---trust me? I know I've been an asshole lately, but..." Chouji exhaled choppily.
"I do trust you Chouji. I've never stopped..." he said softly. "You were off with Ino last night....it was sitting on the counter. You know why I stare at the fucking ceiling so long? So that I don't drink. So help me Kami I slipped...."
He still couldn't breathe. He was calming down, but his heart was still stuttering, beating too hard, too fast. He could hear it in his ears, drowning out what Shikamaru was trying to say. "I---I'll just..."
"Chouji?" Shikamaru asked raising his eyebrow and uncrossing his arms. "You...you okay?"
Chouji leaned heavily against the counter, all the color drained from his features. Sweat was beading up on his face, and his breaths came in small, slow wheezes. "'M f-fine, buzz off..."
"No your not fine...." he said putting a hand on his friends shoulder.
He shrugged him off, ducking away from his touch. "I said I...I'm fine. L-leave me be."
"Damn it Chouji you're not fine. Where's your father?"
"Don't...know..." he ground out, wavering slightly on his feet. Dark spots were looming in his vision, and he could scarcely think.
"Damn it!" he snarled and pulled Chouji to the door. "Get in the car" he said in a brutal tone.
Chouji's knees unexpectedly gave out, and the darkness rolled into his vision.
"Shit!" Shikamaru yelled as he reached for the phone and dialed 911. It seemed like forever for the ambulance to get there, but they finally did. What the hell just happened? What the hell was going on? He couldn't help but feel responsible.
*
Chouji woke up to the slick, sterile whites of a hospital room. The scroll of a heart monitor beeped steadily in his left ear, and he groaned softly. Last thing he remembered...he was...what? His chest had ached, he remembered that much. He'd been yelling, and...?
Shikamaru shifted in the chair again in another odd position. He just couldn't get comfortable. He moved his foot and slipped, resulting in him sliding out of the chair and onto the floor. "Ow..." he said in a low groan as he looked up not bothering to move.
"I'd give you a blanket or something," Chouji said in a small, hoarse whisper, surprised at the sound of his own voice. "But I think I'm attached to too much shit." He groaned again, rolling over onto his side. "...what happened?"
"You blacked out..." he said getting up, hitting his head on the bar on the edge of the bed. "Shit..." he rubbed his head, and leaned back with his back up against the chair. He stayed sprawled out on the floor.
"Blacked out?" Chouji mumbled, blinking at the ceiling. "...is that like the masculine form of fainting?"
"Yeah...."
Chouji kept staring at the ceiling. He could hear his heartbeat scamper across the heart monitor, spiking. "...what's happening to me?"
"Your getting old....like me" he said mumbling.
"I'm sixteen," he said in a small voice. "I'm not supposed to be sick. I---I hate hospitals..."
"Tell me about it. The smell is enough to kill you."
"So...do they know what happened? I...I think I was just a little overtired," Chouji babbled, his hands fisting in the sheets. "I've been waking up a lot at night; maybe it was just---just that.'
"It's your heart" Shikamaru said sternly and in a serious tone.
"Right, I'm a big bleeding heart," he said, closing his eyes. "R-right? Only...only old men have heart problems."
"I'm serious Chouji" Shikamaru said in the same stern voice.
"My heart?" Chouji rolled away from him, curling up on his side. "...am I going to...die, Shika?"
"No, Chouji..." Shikamaru said in a heartfelt voice. "You need to slow down. Need to lay off the stress..."
There was an unexpectedly large lump in Chouji's throat. He didn't trust himself to talk just yet, so he just laid there, listening to Shikamaru's silence and the ever-steady beeps from the heart monitor.
"Take it easy buddy..." he said softly getting back up and sitting in the uncomfortable chair.
"I sort of knew," Chouji said softly, still turned away from him. "I kept waking up in the middle of the night with my chest hurting...but...I told myself it was nothing, you know? I didn't want anyone to worry."
Shikamaru shot a look over in his direction. A harsh, concerned one. "You never told me?"
"You were too busy drinking yourself numb," he said, though without any resentment. "You didn't need me...on top of everything else wrong..."
"You should have told me" he said harshly.
"And say what?" Chouji bit back. "'Gee, Shika, remember when we were kids and I had to sit out during the games at recess because my chest hurt when I ran? It never went away---it got worse.'"
He stood up, his hand gripping the railing on the side of the bed. "Hence you should have told me Chouji!" he said raising his voice. "I was your best friend. You would tell me everything....seems as of late you've been keeping more secrets than the truth...."
"...I..." Chouji closed his eyes, curling up a little tighter. "...just don't want to be the complicated one."
"Oh get over yourself Chouji...." he said huffing. "When did you stop wanting to tell me things?" he said slightly hurt.
"When you stopped wanting to hear about my problems. When your issues were dragging you down too far as it was..." he mumbled, still hoarse. Whatever they'd given him to keep him calm, it just ended up making him feel as if his head was stuffed with cotton.
"My problems are my problems. We both fucked it up. Both thought that it was better to keep it inside than to tell the other. I'm your best friend. That should mean something. Don't ever think you can't tell me what is wrong....ever..." he said, his voice straining.
"You are my best friend. You'll...you'll always be my best friend. I just didn't want to be a burden..." he gave a shuddering sigh. "Guess that worked real well, didn't it..."
"Your not a burden. Why can't you ever see that? Why can't you just be you and be happy with that? I am your friend because you are you...got that!"
Chouji's chin wobbled. Had he been less drugged up, he probably would have been able to pull himself together enough to cry properly. Still...a part of him didn't want to cry---he'd lost enough face in front of Shikamaru for one day. "...taken into consideration, yeah."
"Good" he said sternly sitting back down into the chair, arms crossed.
After a long moment of silence, Chouji rolled onto his back, resting his hands on his stomach. "Did someone call my Dad?"
"Of course...." he said in a softer tone than previous.
"...and Ino? S-she's gonna be so pissed at me for keeling over..."
"Oh yeah sure, she's going to come in and pound you with an inch of your life because you are in the hospital." he said sarcastically.
"Wouldn't put it past her, man...you know how she gets..." Chouji mumbled, licking his dry lips. "And here I am, lying here like a real tub o' lard 'cause my heart's gimp..."
"What's next? First this then my eyesight. Damn....I feel like I'm going to go grey here soon..."
"I'll probably beat you to it," he chuckled, and then winced, rubbing his chest. "...fuck this."
"You were born with this weren't you?" he asked suddenly.
Chouji waited a long moment before replying. "...yeah."
He nodded leaning back in his chair.
"It wasn't so bad when I was little..." Chouji said, trailing off as he plucked idly at the comforter. "I usually didn't tell Dad when I got the pains, unless they were really, really bad. You know me...Mr. No Conflict."
"You knew something was wrong though Chouji...you should have said something..." he said in a sad tone of voice.
"I'd hoped it'd go away," he mumbled, brushing his tangled hair out of his face. "I guess this was proof that it didn't."
Shikamaru only nodded again.
"Why am I always the one screwing up?" He asked, knotting his hands in his hair. "It---it isn't fair. Chouichi never had this shit. He never tried killing himself, o-or had this..." His voice lowered into a whisper. "...my dad..."
"Because you care so much. Chouichi's an ass anyway....."
"So I'm---I'm the one that gets to sit here with his name on a plastic bracelet on his wrist, hooked up to too many tubes...because I'm a little less of an ass?" His head lolled back onto the pillow.
"It's just the way it is Chouji....I don't know why. Those that usually care the most, are inflicted with the most."
"Yeah," he whispered, closing his eyes as crocodile tears slid down his temples. He was too tired to hold them back, and it wasn't in his nature, anyway. "I know that. I'm sorry you...you had to deal with this. It must've scared you..."
"We're both sorry....about a lot of things...alright?" Shikamaru said tilting his head, concern etched on his face. He placed his hand on Chouji's shoulder. "But it's okay...."
"I...hope so...I hope that they can fix this before...before I really hurt myself."
"Believe in yourself for once."
"And what do you mean by that?"
"Trust in yourself that you won't hurt yourself. Trust that you can overcome this. Don't worry so heavily on everyone else."
"You can't 'get better' from this..." Chouji said, a hand over his chest. "...I'm going to live with this for the rest of my life, if it doesn't kill me."
"If you slow down a bit....you may just surprise yourself..."
Chouji opened his eyes, rubbing his moist cheeks with one hand. "Did the doctors say anything...?"
"I don't know....I was mostly asleep. Pretty much what I've been telling you."
Chouji took a pillow out from under his elbow and feebly threw it in Shikamaru's direction. "You shit. I'm lying here on death's doorstep and you sleep?"
"You weren't dead...damn..." he said dodging the pillow before it hit him in the face.
"You're mean," Chouji groused, burying his face in the remaining pillow with a comically loud sigh.
"No I was tired....I already ran around like a maniac before we got to the hospital...wore me out."
"You, run? Is that possible?"
He glared over at Chouji. "Look you really want a heart problem?"
And for some reason, that was extremely funny to him. It was probably what the drugs were doing to his head. "Already have one, buddy. That's enough, even for a big boy like me."
He threw the pillow back at him, purposely so it would miss and land on the floor. "Get some sleep..." He said as he tried to get comfortable in the chair again. "Damn it....I should have kept that pillow..." he grumbled.
Chouji pulled out another pillow and handed it to him with a small grin. "You whiny bitch. Fine. I'll try to rest."
Shikamaru grabbed it only to slide out of the chair again. He just grumbled and curled up on the floor.