[fic] SixTONES. R (Kyomoto Taiga/Tanaka Juri, Shirota Yuu/Kyomoto Taiga). Breath of Serenity.
*dusts lj page*
I am a failure at exchanges, but I might as well post this because I didn't put in the effort just to be shot down. Plus I would really love the intended recipient to read this.
Title: Breath of Serenity
Pairing: Kyomoto Taiga/Tanaka Juri (a hint of Shirota Yuu/Kyomoto Taiga)
Rating: R
Warnings: Lame flower-speak references. Character death.
Summary: Loving someone is as beautiful as the flowers that bring destruction when they bloom.
Notes: Hi, thesecretdoor. I tried to include a few of the points you like, although I’m sorry I cannot give you the novel/epic you deserve. At least it’s painful? And with that I can say, “I love you, but it’s payback time.”
I made at least five people suffer while I wrote this. I want to properly thank them, too.
…
I tried to forget
But you grew roots around my ribcage
And sprouted flowers
Just below my collarbones
All day I pluck their petals
But I have not yet ascertained
Whether you love me
Or not
“What’s on your mind?” Shirota’s silky voice pierces through Taiga’s reverie, and the younger man snaps back to attention. They’ve known each other for quite a long while now, but Taiga can still be a little sheepish when he gets caught unaware. Shirota chuckles at Taiga’s deer-in-the-headlights look, the novelty of it never growing old for him.
At that, Taiga pouts, and then he relaxes from the stiff posture he’s adapted when he was startled. “You enjoy seeing me suffer so much, huh.”
“Oh, not at all,” Shirota teases. He takes a more serious tone when he continues, “If anything, I want to see you happy. And you’ve been having this far-away look in your eyes, so…”
“I’m so out of it lately,” Taiga admits. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Shirota offers.
Taiga shakes his head, but his gaze has gratitude in them. “It’s a lot to take in, but it gets tiring even thinking about it.”
“I see,” Shirota nods his understanding and doesn’t pry further. “But the offer stands. You know you can talk to me about anything, whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you,” Taiga says.
“Anytime, my prince,” Shirota smiles, ruffling Taiga’s hair. Taiga returns the smile, feeling the other man’s affection from both the gesture and the nickname.
It turns to heated kisses, and the tender way Shirota runs a finger at the seam of Taiga’s shirt, at the skin exposed there, makes arousal pool in Taiga’s gut. He gives the green light in between kisses, a breathy yes in the next exhale, and Shirota moves them to the bed.
Shirota lets his hands roam further down, moving articles of clothing just enough to get them out of the way, not bothering to take them off entirely.
Even in the heat of the moment, Taiga’s conscious mind strays back to Juri. To the one man he loves with all his heart, and the reason why the flowers bloomed in his throat. Right now, it’s a mix of imaginative, “Will he be as gentle?” and apologetic, “I’m sorry for doing this with someone else.”
“Juri…” Taiga lets out, almost inaudibly, as the flowers clog his airways entirely. In the same instance, white, blindingly hot pleasure rips through Taiga. His orgasm knocks him out, then Taiga stops breathing all together.
Shirota works through the velvety resistance of Taiga’s body, unaware of anything else other than chasing after his own end. When he comes a few more thrusts later, he collapses to his side, careful not to crush Taiga under his weight. He snuggles at Taiga’s neck to bask in the afterglow, but he soon realizes that something is amiss.
“Taiga?” Shirota calls to the younger man. He cups Taiga’s face with his hand, rousing him, but Taiga remains unresponsive. When Shirota turns his head to listen for breathing, he doesn’t hear the small inward rush of air and there is no trace of the warmth when a person exhales. What makes panic run cold in Shirota’s veins is the sight of Taiga’s pale skin beginning to turn blue, the ugly shade of death spreading upward from the younger man’s fingertips.
“Oh shit,” he blurts out, the sound of it low with fear bubbling up his throat. Immediately, he’s tilting Taiga’s head back. He pinches the younger man’s nose as he gives Taiga his own breaths, the air coming back up with the faint smell of lavender. He doesn’t check for pulses anymore, knowing that time is of the essence. Instead, he carries Taiga down from the soft bed, carefully lowering the younger man flat on his back onto the carpet.
He starts the first set of compressions using the palm of his hands, putting his weight on Taiga’s chest in quick bursts. Shirota tilts Taiga’s head back and gives him two more breaths, and this time the scent of lavender comes back a lot stronger. There is little improvement in Taiga’s appearance; though he’s a little less blue, he is still deathly pale and unmoving.
Shirota tries again and again, but as he begins a fourth attempt, he feels something give under the pressure of his palms. The snapping sound comes a little late, in the middle of the cycle. Fear makes him freeze for only a short moment, but his determination to save Taiga jolts him into action once more. As Shirota concedes that this is beyond his own capabilities, he turns Taiga to the side while he quickly straightens their clothes. Flowers the deep purple of lavender, its petals torn and the stems bent, spill out of Taiga’s mouth. There is blood trickling down Taiga’s lips along with the flowers, and he ignores the nauseating sensation that pools in his gut, somehow glad that the younger man’s heart is at least beating and his efforts have dislodged the worst of the blockage.
Shirota raises hell in the emergency room, with the sense of urgency that he carries Taiga past the automatic doors. He lays Taiga on the nearest gurney, yelling for any medical crew.
“Flowers, in full bloom,” he explains in brief, and then a team gathers to work on saving Taiga.
In full bloom meant that the disease has reached its final stages, and a confession of love-of his feelings being returned after all-wouldn’t reach an unconscious person. Nothing short of surgically removing the flowers could save Taiga now, but the feelings that made them bloom in the first place would be taken away as well, leaving him unable to experience romantic affection.
It’s a few days later when other friends and extended family are cleared to visit Taiga, but Juri has been staying with him ever since he found out what happened.
Hanahaki disease, Taiga’s parents told him. He is able to piece together the bits and pieces of information on his own, and what he gathered bothers him because he’s finding himself in a very similar situation.
When Taiga is stable enough to be transferred to the regular rooms, Juri begins feeling worse for wear. His chest tightens, and there is a persistent blockage in his throat that only goes away when he thinks of anything other than Taiga, or when he coughs them out.
A day ago, he’d only been coughing up a few petals at a time, but now there are more. It’s gotten from bad to worse in the span of hours; the sweet smell of flowers mixed with the metallic tang of blood permeates through the enclosed space of Taiga’s hospital bedroom, even though Juri had been able to make it to the adjoining toilet.
Juri wipes at the corner of his mouth, and even though he’s washed up, he uses an obscure area on the inside of his sweater sleeves where stains won’t be as noticeable. When he catches his breath enough, he casually settles at the foot of the bed while Taiga scoots over to make room, sitting directly across Taiga.
“I don’t understand,” Taiga says as he looks at Juri. “How is this possible?”
“I dunno, it just happened, Kyomo,” he replies, fighting to keep his voice nonchalant.
“I still don’t get it. How? It’s not infectious, right?” Taiga says in disbelief. He has just woken up days after the emergency surgery performed on him, and now he has found out that Juri has the very same disease. He tries to makes sense of Juri’s condition, though his mind is still a bit addled because of the more potent pain-killers he is being weaned from.
They say that the disease stems from a one-sided love. The stronger the feelings become, the deeper the flowers will take root, and eventually clogging the afflicted person’s entire chest cavity. The only cure was having that one-sided love returned, or in Taiga’s case, having it surgically removed.
Juri snorts, catching himself and stopping from laughing out loud. At any other day, Juri would have laughed at the adorably confused Taiga and whipped out his phone to document Taiga’s medication-addled state. “Of course not, Kyomo,” he replies. His tone remains light, just a hint of teasing, but there’s also a faint trace of sorrow laced in the words. “I just fell in love, that’s all.”
“I know, that,” Taiga pouts. “But it’s not fair at all,” he continues. “I’ve been saved but you are-”
“Hold that thought,” Juri begins, effectively cutting off Taiga’s words. “It’s not like it was fair to you either,” Juri argues. “You didn’t have much of a choice, but at least you are still here. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Not when the alternative is losing you,” Juri adds, so faintly that the sound doesn’t reach Taiga’s ears.
Taiga accepts Juri’s answer with a small nod, but there is so much sadness in his eyes that Juri has to look the other way.
“How could anyone not love you?” The sorrow in Taiga’s voice cuts through the atmosphere, making it heavier somehow.
“I think it’s time for bed,” Juri suggests. He tries to keep his tone light, but there’s an edge to his voice that could be called authoritative if it came from someone else. He rises from his seat on the bed, careful not to jostle the bed too much. As he helps straighten Taiga’s legs and tucks him in, Juri concedes, “I’m sorry, I can’t offer any answer to that.”
He knows how confusing this must be for Taiga, that he’s about to lose someone important to the same disease he was saved from, and Juri is not about to add guilt into the mix of Taiga’s emotions. While it breaks Juri’s own heart to see his best friend and the love of his life like this, he has vowed to remain silent. It wasn’t Taiga’s fault that Juri is in love with him, and it’s just really unfortunate that holding romantic feelings isn’t in Taiga’s program anymore post-surgery. He feels his chest tighten again, and he makes a conscious effort to calm the overwhelming feeling of his love, locking it away to buy himself time. Juri takes slow, controlled breaths, and lies through his teeth. “I’ll be fine, really,” he tells Taiga.
When Juri steps out of Taiga’s room, he holds both hands to his mouth to muffle his sounds. A coughing fit racks through Juri’s entire body, bad enough to make Juri fall to his knees, but he manages to lean onto the wall to keep himself upright.
Jesse is waiting just outside the hallway, and he rushes to Juri’s side when he sees the other man’s knees buckle. He looks lost as he rubs soothing circles down Juri’s back and his eyes prickle with unshed tears, wishing that the gesture could stop the flowers from growing inside Juri’s lungs.
“How bad is it?” Jesse asks when the worst of Juri’s hacking cough is over, and Juri knows he isn’t asking about Taiga.
Juri just shakes his head, showing Jesse what’s in his hands. Pink carnations in full bloom. Some of them are torn from being hacked up, but they’re all tinged with Juri’s blood. “I don’t think I have long.”
“You’ve kept your feelings to yourself,” Jesse says, figuring it out on his own. The disbelief laced in his voice borders on panic, but even as he says those words, he helps Juri up and leads the other man into the nearest chair.
Juri nods, resolute. “I did.”
“You are an absolute idiot, you know that?” Jesse lets out, voice shaking. His hands hang by his sides, curling into fists.
“I know,” Juri replies. “But what is the point in telling him I love him? He’s no longer capable of returning my feelings.” Every word feels like a knife cutting deep into his heart, making room for more flowers to bloom and fester. But it’s the truth, and he continues, “We almost lost him, Jess. He’s only here with us because Shirota-kun saved him, and at such a cost.”
“And because you’re being such a stubborn idiot, we are going to lose you instead,” Jesse snaps. He resists the urge to grab Juri by the collar to shake him. “Great,” he spits the word out.
“I don’t want to make him sadder. I don’t want him to feel guilt on top of everything else,” Juri reasons. “It’s not his fault at all.”
“What about me? What about your mother?” Jesse hates hitting weak points, hates using such arguments, but this is a life or death situation. “Aren’t we all important? We’re going to lose you because your feelings can’t be reciprocated and you won’t give the surgery a chance.”
“Having the surgery is never an option for me, you know that,” Juri explains with patience that he feels he is about to lose, but he doesn’t. “Even if I was financially capable of having the surgery, I don’t want to erase my feelings.”
By this time, the dam breaks completely. Jesse burrows himself onto Juri’s chest and weeps. “It’s not fair, Juri,” he says in between sobbing, ugly and loud and wet, with no regard for decorum.
“I know, Jess,” Juri says. With Jesse in his arms like this, he can let himself sag into the back of the chair, exhaustion seeping into his bones. He brushes Jesse’s hair as Jesse cries, offering what little comfort he can.
Taiga takes a deep breath as he pauses in his steps, exhaustion beginning to creep in. In his mind he hears Juri’s worried voice telling him that he shouldn’t have exerted himself since he’s still recovering, the warmth of Juri’s voice just that right kind of soothing. At the thought, Taiga places his hand over his chest, fingers tracing the wound hidden underneath the layers of his clothing. The wound has healed enough and Taiga is declared fit to return home, but there’s a dull ache that he thinks has nothing to do with the illness he is recovering from nor the surgery that saved his life. It’s an ache that goes beyond the physical, far more than the sting of the the cut after it was sewn back together. Even being able to breathe freely after the surgery has not brought relief to the uneasy feeling, overpowered by the dull ache of the physical wound and the niggling sensation like an important part of him has disappeared.
His hand slides down into the folds of his coat, and into the pocket where he keeps a sheet of paper with a crudely-drawn map and some directions. He’s tried his best to keep it intact even though he has a digital counterpart on his phone that he can easily access, because it’s a hand-written memento by Juri. ”If Juri was here…" Taiga begins thinking, but he has to stop there because he knows that Juri is gone and all that’s left of him are fond memories, even if some of them are shrouded in mystery. He touches it, but keeps the sheet of paper inside his pocket, choosing to fold his arms into himself while resting.
It’s early spring but the air is still bitingly cold in the mornings, and Taiga questions his life choices for the nth time. He could take this trip at any other time, when he’s at his full best and when the weather is more forgiving, but something in the back of his mind just wouldn’t shut up about it. He tells himself that the view is at least worth it, picturesque even though the bushes are bare and there are only a few sprigs of green to be seen. It takes a few more steps and some missed passages before he makes it to the place Jesse told him to find.
When he looks at the words, written in Juri’s neat script, it evokes an odd twinge in his heart.
“Loving you
was the most exquisite form
of self-destruction.”
I am a failure at exchanges, but I might as well post this because I didn't put in the effort just to be shot down. Plus I would really love the intended recipient to read this.
Title: Breath of Serenity
Pairing: Kyomoto Taiga/Tanaka Juri (a hint of Shirota Yuu/Kyomoto Taiga)
Rating: R
Warnings: Lame flower-speak references. Character death.
Summary: Loving someone is as beautiful as the flowers that bring destruction when they bloom.
Notes: Hi, thesecretdoor. I tried to include a few of the points you like, although I’m sorry I cannot give you the novel/epic you deserve. At least it’s painful? And with that I can say, “I love you, but it’s payback time.”
I made at least five people suffer while I wrote this. I want to properly thank them, too.
…
I tried to forget
But you grew roots around my ribcage
And sprouted flowers
Just below my collarbones
All day I pluck their petals
But I have not yet ascertained
Whether you love me
Or not
“What’s on your mind?” Shirota’s silky voice pierces through Taiga’s reverie, and the younger man snaps back to attention. They’ve known each other for quite a long while now, but Taiga can still be a little sheepish when he gets caught unaware. Shirota chuckles at Taiga’s deer-in-the-headlights look, the novelty of it never growing old for him.
At that, Taiga pouts, and then he relaxes from the stiff posture he’s adapted when he was startled. “You enjoy seeing me suffer so much, huh.”
“Oh, not at all,” Shirota teases. He takes a more serious tone when he continues, “If anything, I want to see you happy. And you’ve been having this far-away look in your eyes, so…”
“I’m so out of it lately,” Taiga admits. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Shirota offers.
Taiga shakes his head, but his gaze has gratitude in them. “It’s a lot to take in, but it gets tiring even thinking about it.”
“I see,” Shirota nods his understanding and doesn’t pry further. “But the offer stands. You know you can talk to me about anything, whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you,” Taiga says.
“Anytime, my prince,” Shirota smiles, ruffling Taiga’s hair. Taiga returns the smile, feeling the other man’s affection from both the gesture and the nickname.
It turns to heated kisses, and the tender way Shirota runs a finger at the seam of Taiga’s shirt, at the skin exposed there, makes arousal pool in Taiga’s gut. He gives the green light in between kisses, a breathy yes in the next exhale, and Shirota moves them to the bed.
Shirota lets his hands roam further down, moving articles of clothing just enough to get them out of the way, not bothering to take them off entirely.
Even in the heat of the moment, Taiga’s conscious mind strays back to Juri. To the one man he loves with all his heart, and the reason why the flowers bloomed in his throat. Right now, it’s a mix of imaginative, “Will he be as gentle?” and apologetic, “I’m sorry for doing this with someone else.”
“Juri…” Taiga lets out, almost inaudibly, as the flowers clog his airways entirely. In the same instance, white, blindingly hot pleasure rips through Taiga. His orgasm knocks him out, then Taiga stops breathing all together.
Shirota works through the velvety resistance of Taiga’s body, unaware of anything else other than chasing after his own end. When he comes a few more thrusts later, he collapses to his side, careful not to crush Taiga under his weight. He snuggles at Taiga’s neck to bask in the afterglow, but he soon realizes that something is amiss.
“Taiga?” Shirota calls to the younger man. He cups Taiga’s face with his hand, rousing him, but Taiga remains unresponsive. When Shirota turns his head to listen for breathing, he doesn’t hear the small inward rush of air and there is no trace of the warmth when a person exhales. What makes panic run cold in Shirota’s veins is the sight of Taiga’s pale skin beginning to turn blue, the ugly shade of death spreading upward from the younger man’s fingertips.
“Oh shit,” he blurts out, the sound of it low with fear bubbling up his throat. Immediately, he’s tilting Taiga’s head back. He pinches the younger man’s nose as he gives Taiga his own breaths, the air coming back up with the faint smell of lavender. He doesn’t check for pulses anymore, knowing that time is of the essence. Instead, he carries Taiga down from the soft bed, carefully lowering the younger man flat on his back onto the carpet.
He starts the first set of compressions using the palm of his hands, putting his weight on Taiga’s chest in quick bursts. Shirota tilts Taiga’s head back and gives him two more breaths, and this time the scent of lavender comes back a lot stronger. There is little improvement in Taiga’s appearance; though he’s a little less blue, he is still deathly pale and unmoving.
Shirota tries again and again, but as he begins a fourth attempt, he feels something give under the pressure of his palms. The snapping sound comes a little late, in the middle of the cycle. Fear makes him freeze for only a short moment, but his determination to save Taiga jolts him into action once more. As Shirota concedes that this is beyond his own capabilities, he turns Taiga to the side while he quickly straightens their clothes. Flowers the deep purple of lavender, its petals torn and the stems bent, spill out of Taiga’s mouth. There is blood trickling down Taiga’s lips along with the flowers, and he ignores the nauseating sensation that pools in his gut, somehow glad that the younger man’s heart is at least beating and his efforts have dislodged the worst of the blockage.
Shirota raises hell in the emergency room, with the sense of urgency that he carries Taiga past the automatic doors. He lays Taiga on the nearest gurney, yelling for any medical crew.
“Flowers, in full bloom,” he explains in brief, and then a team gathers to work on saving Taiga.
In full bloom meant that the disease has reached its final stages, and a confession of love-of his feelings being returned after all-wouldn’t reach an unconscious person. Nothing short of surgically removing the flowers could save Taiga now, but the feelings that made them bloom in the first place would be taken away as well, leaving him unable to experience romantic affection.
It’s a few days later when other friends and extended family are cleared to visit Taiga, but Juri has been staying with him ever since he found out what happened.
Hanahaki disease, Taiga’s parents told him. He is able to piece together the bits and pieces of information on his own, and what he gathered bothers him because he’s finding himself in a very similar situation.
When Taiga is stable enough to be transferred to the regular rooms, Juri begins feeling worse for wear. His chest tightens, and there is a persistent blockage in his throat that only goes away when he thinks of anything other than Taiga, or when he coughs them out.
A day ago, he’d only been coughing up a few petals at a time, but now there are more. It’s gotten from bad to worse in the span of hours; the sweet smell of flowers mixed with the metallic tang of blood permeates through the enclosed space of Taiga’s hospital bedroom, even though Juri had been able to make it to the adjoining toilet.
Juri wipes at the corner of his mouth, and even though he’s washed up, he uses an obscure area on the inside of his sweater sleeves where stains won’t be as noticeable. When he catches his breath enough, he casually settles at the foot of the bed while Taiga scoots over to make room, sitting directly across Taiga.
“I don’t understand,” Taiga says as he looks at Juri. “How is this possible?”
“I dunno, it just happened, Kyomo,” he replies, fighting to keep his voice nonchalant.
“I still don’t get it. How? It’s not infectious, right?” Taiga says in disbelief. He has just woken up days after the emergency surgery performed on him, and now he has found out that Juri has the very same disease. He tries to makes sense of Juri’s condition, though his mind is still a bit addled because of the more potent pain-killers he is being weaned from.
They say that the disease stems from a one-sided love. The stronger the feelings become, the deeper the flowers will take root, and eventually clogging the afflicted person’s entire chest cavity. The only cure was having that one-sided love returned, or in Taiga’s case, having it surgically removed.
Juri snorts, catching himself and stopping from laughing out loud. At any other day, Juri would have laughed at the adorably confused Taiga and whipped out his phone to document Taiga’s medication-addled state. “Of course not, Kyomo,” he replies. His tone remains light, just a hint of teasing, but there’s also a faint trace of sorrow laced in the words. “I just fell in love, that’s all.”
“I know, that,” Taiga pouts. “But it’s not fair at all,” he continues. “I’ve been saved but you are-”
“Hold that thought,” Juri begins, effectively cutting off Taiga’s words. “It’s not like it was fair to you either,” Juri argues. “You didn’t have much of a choice, but at least you are still here. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Not when the alternative is losing you,” Juri adds, so faintly that the sound doesn’t reach Taiga’s ears.
Taiga accepts Juri’s answer with a small nod, but there is so much sadness in his eyes that Juri has to look the other way.
“How could anyone not love you?” The sorrow in Taiga’s voice cuts through the atmosphere, making it heavier somehow.
“I think it’s time for bed,” Juri suggests. He tries to keep his tone light, but there’s an edge to his voice that could be called authoritative if it came from someone else. He rises from his seat on the bed, careful not to jostle the bed too much. As he helps straighten Taiga’s legs and tucks him in, Juri concedes, “I’m sorry, I can’t offer any answer to that.”
He knows how confusing this must be for Taiga, that he’s about to lose someone important to the same disease he was saved from, and Juri is not about to add guilt into the mix of Taiga’s emotions. While it breaks Juri’s own heart to see his best friend and the love of his life like this, he has vowed to remain silent. It wasn’t Taiga’s fault that Juri is in love with him, and it’s just really unfortunate that holding romantic feelings isn’t in Taiga’s program anymore post-surgery. He feels his chest tighten again, and he makes a conscious effort to calm the overwhelming feeling of his love, locking it away to buy himself time. Juri takes slow, controlled breaths, and lies through his teeth. “I’ll be fine, really,” he tells Taiga.
When Juri steps out of Taiga’s room, he holds both hands to his mouth to muffle his sounds. A coughing fit racks through Juri’s entire body, bad enough to make Juri fall to his knees, but he manages to lean onto the wall to keep himself upright.
Jesse is waiting just outside the hallway, and he rushes to Juri’s side when he sees the other man’s knees buckle. He looks lost as he rubs soothing circles down Juri’s back and his eyes prickle with unshed tears, wishing that the gesture could stop the flowers from growing inside Juri’s lungs.
“How bad is it?” Jesse asks when the worst of Juri’s hacking cough is over, and Juri knows he isn’t asking about Taiga.
Juri just shakes his head, showing Jesse what’s in his hands. Pink carnations in full bloom. Some of them are torn from being hacked up, but they’re all tinged with Juri’s blood. “I don’t think I have long.”
“You’ve kept your feelings to yourself,” Jesse says, figuring it out on his own. The disbelief laced in his voice borders on panic, but even as he says those words, he helps Juri up and leads the other man into the nearest chair.
Juri nods, resolute. “I did.”
“You are an absolute idiot, you know that?” Jesse lets out, voice shaking. His hands hang by his sides, curling into fists.
“I know,” Juri replies. “But what is the point in telling him I love him? He’s no longer capable of returning my feelings.” Every word feels like a knife cutting deep into his heart, making room for more flowers to bloom and fester. But it’s the truth, and he continues, “We almost lost him, Jess. He’s only here with us because Shirota-kun saved him, and at such a cost.”
“And because you’re being such a stubborn idiot, we are going to lose you instead,” Jesse snaps. He resists the urge to grab Juri by the collar to shake him. “Great,” he spits the word out.
“I don’t want to make him sadder. I don’t want him to feel guilt on top of everything else,” Juri reasons. “It’s not his fault at all.”
“What about me? What about your mother?” Jesse hates hitting weak points, hates using such arguments, but this is a life or death situation. “Aren’t we all important? We’re going to lose you because your feelings can’t be reciprocated and you won’t give the surgery a chance.”
“Having the surgery is never an option for me, you know that,” Juri explains with patience that he feels he is about to lose, but he doesn’t. “Even if I was financially capable of having the surgery, I don’t want to erase my feelings.”
By this time, the dam breaks completely. Jesse burrows himself onto Juri’s chest and weeps. “It’s not fair, Juri,” he says in between sobbing, ugly and loud and wet, with no regard for decorum.
“I know, Jess,” Juri says. With Jesse in his arms like this, he can let himself sag into the back of the chair, exhaustion seeping into his bones. He brushes Jesse’s hair as Jesse cries, offering what little comfort he can.
Taiga takes a deep breath as he pauses in his steps, exhaustion beginning to creep in. In his mind he hears Juri’s worried voice telling him that he shouldn’t have exerted himself since he’s still recovering, the warmth of Juri’s voice just that right kind of soothing. At the thought, Taiga places his hand over his chest, fingers tracing the wound hidden underneath the layers of his clothing. The wound has healed enough and Taiga is declared fit to return home, but there’s a dull ache that he thinks has nothing to do with the illness he is recovering from nor the surgery that saved his life. It’s an ache that goes beyond the physical, far more than the sting of the the cut after it was sewn back together. Even being able to breathe freely after the surgery has not brought relief to the uneasy feeling, overpowered by the dull ache of the physical wound and the niggling sensation like an important part of him has disappeared.
His hand slides down into the folds of his coat, and into the pocket where he keeps a sheet of paper with a crudely-drawn map and some directions. He’s tried his best to keep it intact even though he has a digital counterpart on his phone that he can easily access, because it’s a hand-written memento by Juri. ”If Juri was here…" Taiga begins thinking, but he has to stop there because he knows that Juri is gone and all that’s left of him are fond memories, even if some of them are shrouded in mystery. He touches it, but keeps the sheet of paper inside his pocket, choosing to fold his arms into himself while resting.
It’s early spring but the air is still bitingly cold in the mornings, and Taiga questions his life choices for the nth time. He could take this trip at any other time, when he’s at his full best and when the weather is more forgiving, but something in the back of his mind just wouldn’t shut up about it. He tells himself that the view is at least worth it, picturesque even though the bushes are bare and there are only a few sprigs of green to be seen. It takes a few more steps and some missed passages before he makes it to the place Jesse told him to find.
When he looks at the words, written in Juri’s neat script, it evokes an odd twinge in his heart.
“Loving you
was the most exquisite form
of self-destruction.”