Parallel (Koyama/Shige)
Title: Parallel
Pairing: Koyama/Shige
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1033
A/N: Takes place after Yasu confronts Subaru over not taking his meds, on the same day.
Shige is still at his desk when Koyama checks in on him at the end of his shift, surrounded by several books and a large stack of paper.
“Hey,” Koyama says quietly.
“Hey.” Shige doesn’t look up, busying himself sifting through the papers.
Koyama considers for a moment, then steps inside and closes the door behind him. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m drowning in paperwork,” Shige grumbles. “You wouldn’t believe how quickly this stuff piles up.” He still doesn’t look up, writing busily.
“Shige.” Koyama has to actually grab Shige’s hand to get him to stop and finally look at him.
“What?” He doesn’t quite snap, but his voice is sharp, like he knows where this is going and he doesn’t like it.
“You wrote your name wrong.”
Whatever Shige was expecting, it wasn’t that. He blinks in confusion for a few seconds before he looks more closely at the form he’s filling out and realizes that Koyama’s right. “Damn it,” he mutters. When Koyama lets go of his hand, he slams his fist down on the table.
Koyama considers for a moment and then asks, “Does this have to be done tonight?”
“No, but-“
“Come on.” Koyama doesn’t give him a chance to argue, just drags him out of his chair. He lets go before they’re out the door, but it’s too late to bother turning back then, so Shige reluctantly follows him.
Koyama doesn’t say a word all the way to the train station, and it’s a sign of just how far away Shige’s thoughts are that he doesn’t seem to notice. He doesn’t even comment when they get on the train to go to Koyama’s apartment. Koyama’s not sure he’s even paying attention to where they’re going.
It’s long past rush hour now, so they find seats easily. Koyama squeezes Shige’s hand once they sit down, and Shige jumps, startled, before smiling apologetically. “Sorry,” he says. “I was...” He waves a hand vaguely, which Koyama interprets as “out of it”.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he offers.
Shige looks around. The train’s not packed, but there are still plenty of people around. He shrugs. “You know. I have a lot to think about.”
“Mm-hmm.” Koyama has a lot more to say, but he knows this isn’t the place. He also knows (whatever Shige might say to the contrary) when to be quiet, so he doesn’t say anything more, but he keeps his hand on Shige’s.
When they get off the train, Shige finally stops and thinks about what’s going on. “Oh, are we going back to your place?” he asks.
Koyama laughs. “Apparently, since you followed me this far.”
“Shut up,” Shige mutters, more by reflex than because he’s upset at being mocked. It’s clear he has other things on his mind right now.
They scrounge some leftovers out of Koyama’s fridge for a very late dinner, and Koyama rambles to fill the silence while Shige stares at his food. “You won’t figure out the secrets of life by starving yourself,” he says when he gets tired of watching Shige barely eat.
“What?” Shige asks, taking a moment to make the connection. “Oh.” He obediently, if unenthusiastically, shovels food into his mouth.
It’s only when Shige’s eaten properly and the dishes have been washed and put away that Koyama finally does what he’s been wanting to do since the minute he walked into Shige’s office and saw him so clearly wound up and upset, pushing Shige down onto the couch to give the only kind of comfort he can offer right now. He can’t fix anything, can’t help Shige do his job or take back what happened earlier, but he can do this.
Distracted as he is, Shige doesn’t respond right away when Koyama kisses him. He snaps out of it after a moment and kisses back, but then he pulls away.
“What if it was us?” he asks, his hands on Koyama’s arms to keep him back.
Koyama cocks his head, confused. “What do you mean?”
“We work together, and that’s okay, but what if it wasn’t? When is something like this worth breaking the rules for?”
“It’s not really the same thing,” Koyama points out. “You and me dating could be against company rules, but I don’t think anyone would argue that it’s ethically wrong unless you forced me into it somehow. Between a therapist and a patient, it’s a whole different thing.”
“I know, I know.” Shige slumps back against the couch cushions, frustrated. “But what if you were my patient instead?”
“I can’t really see me being depressed,” Koyama says. He tries to laugh, but Shige is in no mood for jokes.
“Then if you were the doctor and I was your patient,” Shige amends. “What would you do?”
“We can’t know, Shige.” Shige frowns deeply, not liking that answer. “We can’t know what we’d do in a situation we’ve never been and will never be in. We can’t know what it’s like for them because we’re not anything at all like them.”
“I know.” Shige sighs. “But...if I don’t understand, how can I help?”
Koyama thinks about it for a moment. “Have you ever been depressed? Really depressed, the way Shibutani-san is?”
“No,” Shige admits grudgingly, seeing where this is going. “Not like that.”
“But you don’t need to understand to be able to help him, do you?”
“Maybe I do,” Shige says. “I thought I was helping until today, but...maybe I can’t if I don’t understand.”
“Shige,” Koyama says, in his ‘I’m saying this for your own good, so you better listen’ voice. “You can’t understand everything. But you have to believe you can help anyway or you picked the wrong career.” Before Shige can open his mouth to say that maybe he did, Koyama continues, “And believe me, I’ve seen people who aren’t suited for this work. You’re not one of them.”
“I guess,” Shige agrees reluctantly. “It’s just hard.”
“Well, if it was easy, then I’d be a doctor,” Koyama jokes. He grins widely when Shige laughs. “Now, will you shut up and let me kiss you?”
Shige smiles that slightly-embarrassed smile of his. “Okay,” he says, and so Koyama does.
Pairing: Koyama/Shige
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1033
A/N: Takes place after Yasu confronts Subaru over not taking his meds, on the same day.
Shige is still at his desk when Koyama checks in on him at the end of his shift, surrounded by several books and a large stack of paper.
“Hey,” Koyama says quietly.
“Hey.” Shige doesn’t look up, busying himself sifting through the papers.
Koyama considers for a moment, then steps inside and closes the door behind him. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m drowning in paperwork,” Shige grumbles. “You wouldn’t believe how quickly this stuff piles up.” He still doesn’t look up, writing busily.
“Shige.” Koyama has to actually grab Shige’s hand to get him to stop and finally look at him.
“What?” He doesn’t quite snap, but his voice is sharp, like he knows where this is going and he doesn’t like it.
“You wrote your name wrong.”
Whatever Shige was expecting, it wasn’t that. He blinks in confusion for a few seconds before he looks more closely at the form he’s filling out and realizes that Koyama’s right. “Damn it,” he mutters. When Koyama lets go of his hand, he slams his fist down on the table.
Koyama considers for a moment and then asks, “Does this have to be done tonight?”
“No, but-“
“Come on.” Koyama doesn’t give him a chance to argue, just drags him out of his chair. He lets go before they’re out the door, but it’s too late to bother turning back then, so Shige reluctantly follows him.
Koyama doesn’t say a word all the way to the train station, and it’s a sign of just how far away Shige’s thoughts are that he doesn’t seem to notice. He doesn’t even comment when they get on the train to go to Koyama’s apartment. Koyama’s not sure he’s even paying attention to where they’re going.
It’s long past rush hour now, so they find seats easily. Koyama squeezes Shige’s hand once they sit down, and Shige jumps, startled, before smiling apologetically. “Sorry,” he says. “I was...” He waves a hand vaguely, which Koyama interprets as “out of it”.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he offers.
Shige looks around. The train’s not packed, but there are still plenty of people around. He shrugs. “You know. I have a lot to think about.”
“Mm-hmm.” Koyama has a lot more to say, but he knows this isn’t the place. He also knows (whatever Shige might say to the contrary) when to be quiet, so he doesn’t say anything more, but he keeps his hand on Shige’s.
When they get off the train, Shige finally stops and thinks about what’s going on. “Oh, are we going back to your place?” he asks.
Koyama laughs. “Apparently, since you followed me this far.”
“Shut up,” Shige mutters, more by reflex than because he’s upset at being mocked. It’s clear he has other things on his mind right now.
They scrounge some leftovers out of Koyama’s fridge for a very late dinner, and Koyama rambles to fill the silence while Shige stares at his food. “You won’t figure out the secrets of life by starving yourself,” he says when he gets tired of watching Shige barely eat.
“What?” Shige asks, taking a moment to make the connection. “Oh.” He obediently, if unenthusiastically, shovels food into his mouth.
It’s only when Shige’s eaten properly and the dishes have been washed and put away that Koyama finally does what he’s been wanting to do since the minute he walked into Shige’s office and saw him so clearly wound up and upset, pushing Shige down onto the couch to give the only kind of comfort he can offer right now. He can’t fix anything, can’t help Shige do his job or take back what happened earlier, but he can do this.
Distracted as he is, Shige doesn’t respond right away when Koyama kisses him. He snaps out of it after a moment and kisses back, but then he pulls away.
“What if it was us?” he asks, his hands on Koyama’s arms to keep him back.
Koyama cocks his head, confused. “What do you mean?”
“We work together, and that’s okay, but what if it wasn’t? When is something like this worth breaking the rules for?”
“It’s not really the same thing,” Koyama points out. “You and me dating could be against company rules, but I don’t think anyone would argue that it’s ethically wrong unless you forced me into it somehow. Between a therapist and a patient, it’s a whole different thing.”
“I know, I know.” Shige slumps back against the couch cushions, frustrated. “But what if you were my patient instead?”
“I can’t really see me being depressed,” Koyama says. He tries to laugh, but Shige is in no mood for jokes.
“Then if you were the doctor and I was your patient,” Shige amends. “What would you do?”
“We can’t know, Shige.” Shige frowns deeply, not liking that answer. “We can’t know what we’d do in a situation we’ve never been and will never be in. We can’t know what it’s like for them because we’re not anything at all like them.”
“I know.” Shige sighs. “But...if I don’t understand, how can I help?”
Koyama thinks about it for a moment. “Have you ever been depressed? Really depressed, the way Shibutani-san is?”
“No,” Shige admits grudgingly, seeing where this is going. “Not like that.”
“But you don’t need to understand to be able to help him, do you?”
“Maybe I do,” Shige says. “I thought I was helping until today, but...maybe I can’t if I don’t understand.”
“Shige,” Koyama says, in his ‘I’m saying this for your own good, so you better listen’ voice. “You can’t understand everything. But you have to believe you can help anyway or you picked the wrong career.” Before Shige can open his mouth to say that maybe he did, Koyama continues, “And believe me, I’ve seen people who aren’t suited for this work. You’re not one of them.”
“I guess,” Shige agrees reluctantly. “It’s just hard.”
“Well, if it was easy, then I’d be a doctor,” Koyama jokes. He grins widely when Shige laughs. “Now, will you shut up and let me kiss you?”
Shige smiles that slightly-embarrassed smile of his. “Okay,” he says, and so Koyama does.