[fic] he's like a virgin losing a child: chapter three (2/2)
The week passes by in a blur, overtaken by tears and pain and suffering. Tohaku has up to twenty seizures a day; his screams become more frequent then his biting words, and by the end of the first day he is hoarse and coughing up blood. The medication takes only two days before it takes affect but it’s enough time, enough time to take a heavy toll on the child, who smiles less and eats less and laughs not at all.
“Jiji, make it stop!" he would scream to Kame, as the seizures would attack again and again, overtaking him one after another after another, in quick succession, leaving him no time to recover. Kame could only watch as the blue would stain his lips, his fingernails, the color of death signifying the worst, could only watch as the tremors racked the small boy’s body, being torn apart by every jerk. The screams would come after.
Sometimes, Kame would scream along with him.
Jin is always on the sidelines, watching and waiting, like an invisible guardian, a quite sentinel, and when it gets too bad he replaces Kame, forces him away from Tohaku to allow him to breathe, because it’s nearly as damaging to him as it is to Tohaku. But it’s not easy for Jin either, and everyday when he returns home to sleep, leaving Kame behind at the hospital, he tosses and turns in his bed, unable to fall asleep. And if he does, he is overcome with nightmares; old memories resurfacing that were best left forgotten, haunting his slumber.
It’s only on the third day of their stay, a Friday, that Tohaku is able to go nearly a full day without problems, that Kame is able to calm himself down enough to eat a proper meal, that Jin is able to sleep a full night. The worst is over, but it’s still taxing, still difficult, because they can only think about the future, and the end of that week when Tohaku’s safety will be all up to them.
The last day comes and they are instructed on how to handle a child with epilepsy, given an overview on the known causes, the known effects. They are laden down with prescriptions and medicines. They are told about different drug trials, special diets, experimental therapies. And then finally, they are sent away, with well-wishes from all those that had been there caring for Tohaku. They arrive home safely. Tohaku doesn’t have another seizure until the next morning.
After leaving the hospital, the first few days at Jin’s house are spent in nervous anticipation. They are all tense and high-strung, as if expecting something to go wrong, as if expecting the worst. But all that happens is what is expected, and they begin to breathe easy, or as easy as they can ever be, so by the time the next Friday rolls around Tohaku is laughing again. Jin goes back to work the next week.
As they fight their way through the week following, they take to sitting out on the patio that connects to Jin’s room. It faces the ocean, and two wicker chairs occupy it, along with a small wooden table wedged in between, and it’s peaceful up there, sitting together as the sun goes down. Like the rest of the house it’s massive, and Tohaku, somewhat used to his seizures, always sits on the wooden panels in front of Kame’s legs, quietly playing with toys Jin provides him.
On the fourth night sitting on the patio, Jin brings out his radio. Kame looks at him quizzically, but there’s an amused smile on his face. He seems to melt into his chair when the sound of the radio crackles on.
“You have a radio?” Kame asks, closing his eyes. Jin fiddles around with the tuning knob, finally stopping on a classical station, before looking at the other. He grins when he notices Kame’s content expression, and settles into his seat to enjoy its rich sound with the other.
“What? Is there something wrong with that?” Jin asks after a moment.
“No, you just… don’t seem like the kind of person that would own one.”
Jin smirks. “It helps me calm down when my problem acts up. Watching television is too… frantic.”
Kame shrugs and turns away, gazing once again towards the ocean, and the subject is dropped. The sun is close to the horizon, and the sky is slowly changing, red and orange dyeing the clouds and the blue expanses. They sit in silence, listening to the radio through the slight buzz of static, and in that moment the events from the week before seem to fade away until all is calm. A commercial for a movie plays, its music a soothing lullaby, and Jin half-listens to the announcer saying the movie’s name, Hero. It’s only until Tohaku speaks that Jin rouses himself from the serene moment.
“What’s hero, jiji?” Tohaku asks, stumbling on the English word, his Japanese pronunciation jumbling the sound until it becomes impossible for Kame to comprehend the word, his limited knowledge of the English language hindering his understanding. Kame turns to Jin for guidance, grinning sheepishly.
“Hero,” Jin replies to Kame’s wordless plea, English pronunciation perfect. He grins and leans back further into his wicker chair, cradling his head in his intertwined fingers. “Hero,” he repeats in Japanese.
“Hero,” Kame stutters out. “It’s the name you give a person that you think has done something remarkably brave, or who is very courageous or strong.” He drags the boy from the floor and into his lap, and Tohaku shifts until his head is snuggly pushed up underneath his uncle’s chin.
“Or it’s someone with awesome superpowers,” Jin says giddily. “Like Spiderman. Or that hot cheerleader Claire.”
“Let’s not corrupt him, Akanishi,” Kame begins, but his nephew jolts upright at Jin’s words.
“Or Superman?” Tohaku asks. He is all excitement, jumping up and down in his place on Kame’s lap. Jin grins at his antics.
“Is Superman your hero then?” Jin questions.
The kid nods, innocent eyes stretched wide. “My hero is Superman, Jiji.” He suddenly bounds away from Kame, jumping around on the patio and making buzzing noises, leaping back to Jin or Kame occasionally before zooming off in another direction, laughing all the time.
“Tohaku! Tohaku, you have to stop running around like that!” Kame yells out. When he stands up slightly to chase after the boy, Jin reaches out to touch the other’s arm. When Kame doesn’t seem to notice, he takes a hold of his wrist. Kame glances towards Jin with hard eyes, and Jin shakes his head.
“Let the boy be. He suffers enough without you holding him back from having fun,” Jin says.
“Don’t tell me how to take care of Tohaku,” Kame snaps back, but he huffs and sits back down in the chair. His back is straight, face tense, and he watches his nephew bounding around on the patio like a hawk watches a mouse, ready to jump towards the child at a moment’s notice. With the medication, the seizures come few and far between, but they also come without warning.
It takes a moment, but Tohaku finally calms down, and drifts over towards Kame’s tense form at the far end of the deck. He stands next to Kame’s knees. Kame looks at the boy with worried eyes.
“Hey kiddo,” Kame says.
“Hi.”
“Done being Superman yet?”
“For now,” Tohaku replies, the sly grin on his face unnatural for such a small child. Kame had told Jin before that he had always been an intelligent child, muttering that he only hoped that Tohaku’s intelligence would not be wasted as the seizures attacked his brain.
“Who is your hero Jiji?” Tohaku suddenly asks. Jin, interested, turns his attention away from the child and focuses on Kame.
“I don’t have one,” To-kun’s uncle replies.
“Aww, why not, jiji? That’s not fun at all,” Tohaku whines. He puts his hands on Kame’s knees, bringing his sullen face closer to his uncle’s. Kame glances towards Jin, catching his stare, but the other does not lower his eyes. When Tohaku asks the question again, Kame finally turns away.
“Tell you what, To-kun,” Kame says, pulling Tohaku’s hands off his knees and dragging him into his lap once again. “You’ll be the first person to know who my hero is, once I find out. Sound alright with you?”
“You really don’t have one? You promise you’re not lying?”
“I promise.”
“Fine, ok, you better tell me.” And with that, Tohaku bounds away from Kame’s lap yet another time, but settles peaceably on the patio, his feet and arms thrust through the wooden beams of the rail.
Jin sighs in disappointment once Tohaku is out of earshot. “So you’re lying?” Jin says, his words more a statement than a question.
Kame tears his gaze away from Tohaku’s form and fixes it on Jin, his expression one of displeasure.
“I don’t lie to Tohaku,” he says, voice pitched low.
“You just seem like the kind of person to have someone like that,” Jin defends.
“You have a hero then, Akanishi? Tell me,” he shifts in his seat, adjusting his body into a more comfortable position, in the process leaning closer to Jin. “Who is it?”
“I see you neatly avoided that question Kamenashi.”
“Don’t avoid this one then,” Kame replies. He leans even closer, too close, too much temptation thrust into Jin awareness. The light from the sun casts shadows over Kame’s face, and a sudden breeze blows his bangs into his eyes; Jin aches to reach out and tuck it behind his ear, but Kame takes a hand and brushes the unruly strands away from his face. Jin forces himself to swallow.
“So…?” Kame prompts.
“It’s quite easy to guess, if you think about it,” Jin replies.
“I hate to admit it but I’m stumped,” Kame presses on.
“Well, Kazuya.” Jin pauses then, as if surprised by his familiar usage of the other’s name. Kame face flinches, but the motion is gone as quickly as it came. Jin takes a deep breath, wondering, wondering, because what he is about to say will release the flood, but he knows that this is the perfect opportunity, and he has to. He opens his mouth to spill it all.
“Well, it’s you.”