Within White Walls
Title: Within White Walls
Author: Aishuu
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Challenge: Healing
Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei
Type: Light Yaoi/Angst
Time: 42 minutes
Pairing: Yukimura/Kirihara
Notes: Too much time in a hospital drives you nuts. Really.
Yukimura Seichi hated hospitals.
When he’d gotten sick, he’d done his best to avoid being committed, but eventually there had been no avoiding it. His doctor, Haragata-sensei, has told his parents he needed to be kept for observation as his condition progressed, and that was that. No matter how mature he was, Yukimura was only fourteen, and his parents controlled his life.
They stopped by daily, on their way home from work, but his hospital stay was a long-term proposition as he knew that his father worried about the medical costs not covered by insurance. His mother had just gotten a job at a flower shop to help defray expenses, which was why she wasn’t around as often as he imagined she’d liked to be. He knew she worried about him, with good reason.
He knew they kept him here in an attempt to make him well, but he was of the firm opinion that hospitals were only good for driving a person mad. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since coming, since every four hours someone would stop by and take his vitals. That was really the only time he saw the staff, with the exception of Akari, the dietician, who would take an order three times a day. She had a pleasant smile, but he was tired of those pleasant, let’s-be-nice-to-the-invalid smiles.
The lack of privacy grated on his nerves, but he welcomed the interruptions, routine though they were, because they kept him from brooding too deeply. It wasn’t his nature to fall into despair, but he’d been depressed ever since coming.
There were twenty-four hours in a day - that was 1,440 minutes, or 86,400 seconds. He knew that too well, especially since he’d been stuck within the same four white walls for the last thirty-eight days. Each moment seemed to drag, reminding him of everything he’d lost.
Before, all he’d had to worry about was keeping his team on the course for the Nationals, and from killing each other. Now, that seemed like a far-off dream, a different life.
He was scared. He could end up permanently paralyzed… or die.
He’d never thought about dying before. He was fourteen, and he had his entire life before him. But his body was failing, and though the doctors said it was rare, his condition did occasionally lead to death.
He dreamed of death now, imagining what it’d feel like if his heart stopped working, or the muscles around his lungs became paralyzed. Would it hurt? Or would it be like falling asleep, and not waking up?
He hated thinking on it. He wanted distraction, but there were only so many books he could read, so many times he could go to the activity room and play video games with the other long term pediatric patients. He began to both long and loath for the visits from his teammates. Sanada and Yanagi came most frequently, and their seriousness beat down on him, adding stress to his already burdened soul.
Sanada worried for him. It was clear, in those dark eyes, that the pressure of carrying the team and Yukimura’s hopes for a third National title bothered the vice captain.
“They’re doing well,” he said on Yukimura’s thirty-fourth day in the hospital.
Sanada had managed to convince the nurse to let him take Yukimura for a walk on the hospital grounds, a rare treat. The flowers were blooming, and Yukimura was seating on the bench, touching their fragile petals.
“I knew they would,” Yukimura said. It was true that Rikkai was a strong team, and even without his presence would probably race straight for the title. He felt like he was talking about something distant, something that didn’t concern him.
“They’re working harder for you.”
Yukimura hated that. He wished that his team didn’t feel motivated to get the National “for buchou” but rather for the sheer thrill of the championship itself. He felt they were misdirected, but didn’t know how to correct them. He couldn’t break their hearts like that.
“I’m proud of them,” he said, giving Sanada the smile he expected.
Talking to Yanagi was worse, because Yanagi spent so much time researching Guillain Barre. Yanagi had his own theories what Yukimura should be doing, and always said that he should ask for second and third opinions. However, he did firmly support the surgery which his primary doctor had suggested to speed recovery.
“It does sound a bit gruesome, but I think it would be best,” Yanagi said on Yukimura’s thirty-sixth day in the hospital. “It is, of course, your decision to make.”
Yukimura, sitting on his bed with his hands folded in his lap, had nodded slowly. He knew that plasmapheresis was something that his parents were pushing for, but they were being kind and letting him make his own decision. It would mean committing to a series of procedures, and he was frightened of the idea. It sounded vampiric.
“I’ve had a cold, so they’re not ready for it,” Yukimura said honestly. “And I haven’t decided.”
Yanagi had nodded slowly. “We only want what’s best for you.”
That was the case with everyone. Everyone wanted what was best for Yukimura, and Yukimura wanted to be left alone… but he hated the loneliness.
On his thirty-ninth day in the hospital, Yukimura Seichi wondered what the point was. He hated the life he was leading, and wondered if getting better was possible. The life he’d led before seemed so far away.
“Ne, buchou? You busy?”
Green eyes looked at him curiously, and he blinked at Kirihara Akaya, the team’s second year prodigy, who stood wearing casual clothing and a grin that meant mischief.
Kirihara’s visits had always been the most irregular, and he’d usually been accompanied by another teammate. During Kirihara’s first year, he’d decided, as vice captain, that someone needed to be assigned to keep an eye on Kirihara, and the mayhem he caused under reasonable control.
“Who’s with you?” he asked, leaning forward a bit in an attempt to see if Jackal lurked out of sight.
“You are now,” Kirihara said cheerfully, before slouching over and taking a place on the bed without a by-your-leave.
Yukimura laughed a bit, amused as always. Kirihara wasn’t rude, so much as oblivious to social niceties. “I don’t think Sanada will accept that.”
Kirihara winked. “You outrank him,” he said impishly.
Giggles welled up in Yukimura, and he changed them into a polite cough. Guys didn’t giggle, and he received enough hell about his feminine face as it was. “Akaya, are you trying to get me in trouble?”
“I wouldn’t do that!” Kirihara protested. “Sanada would blame me! He always does!” he said, before starting in on a long-winded rant on Sanada’s temper and unfair practice policies.
Yukimura found himself laughing several times as Kirihara forgot about anything except his irritation. Kirihara was nothing if not honest, and his snide opinions on Marui’s weight (he’d gained five pounds), Jackal’s nerves (Yukimura suspected that between Kirihara’s own antics and Niou’s latest pranks, the half-Brazilian would have a nervous break-down before graduation), Niou and Yagyuu (or Yagyuu and Niou, depending on the day), Yanagi and his data, and last but definitely not least Sanada and his temper, had Yukimura rolling.
He leaned back against his bed, hitting the button so it moved into a fully upright position and let Kirihara’s voice roll over him. Every now and then Kirihara would ask an opinion, but then he would plough on, undeterred.
Kirihara had been going on for nearly two hours when the nurse came in to take vitals, and it was like coming crashing to the ground after remembering how to fly. He tried not to sulk as the wrist cuff squeezed for his blood pressure, and Kirihara went still.
It only took two minutes, but Kirihara seemed subdued. It occurred to him then that somehow or other that he’d never seen Yukimura being fussed over.
“I’m sorry,” Kirihara said abruptly, rising to his feet. “I… forgot.”
He raised a hand to forestall the second year from leaving. “Please… stay.”
Kirihara looked uncertain as he settled down a bit more uncertainly. “They don’t know I’m here,” he said. “I just wanted to see you. You’re the only one who really listens to me.”
Something clenched in Yukimura’s chest, and he felt like a release valve had been let go. He felt a genuine smile spread across his face as he realized that Kirihara was visiting him and not his invalid captain. Only with Kirihara could he feel like himself, and forget about his problems.
“Akaya,” he said, and he smiled, reaching out and pulling the younger boy closer. It was awkward, but he managed to wrap his arms around the impulsive boy. Kirihara smelled like the outdoors and soap, a clean fresh fragrance with a hint of something more.
Kirihara seemed a bit stunned, but then he wrapped his arms around Yukimura as well, leaning against his chest for a second. Kirihara, though, could only stay affectionate for a second before pulling back, an impish smile on his face, with his angular eyes sparkling. Most people would have made statements of how they missed Yukimura, or how they wanted Yukimura to get well quickly, but Kirihara wasn’t like that.
“Sanada is going to be so jealous. He has pictures of you in his locker.”
This time Yukimura did giggle.
Author: Aishuu
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Challenge: Healing
Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei
Type: Light Yaoi/Angst
Time: 42 minutes
Pairing: Yukimura/Kirihara
Notes: Too much time in a hospital drives you nuts. Really.
Yukimura Seichi hated hospitals.
When he’d gotten sick, he’d done his best to avoid being committed, but eventually there had been no avoiding it. His doctor, Haragata-sensei, has told his parents he needed to be kept for observation as his condition progressed, and that was that. No matter how mature he was, Yukimura was only fourteen, and his parents controlled his life.
They stopped by daily, on their way home from work, but his hospital stay was a long-term proposition as he knew that his father worried about the medical costs not covered by insurance. His mother had just gotten a job at a flower shop to help defray expenses, which was why she wasn’t around as often as he imagined she’d liked to be. He knew she worried about him, with good reason.
He knew they kept him here in an attempt to make him well, but he was of the firm opinion that hospitals were only good for driving a person mad. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since coming, since every four hours someone would stop by and take his vitals. That was really the only time he saw the staff, with the exception of Akari, the dietician, who would take an order three times a day. She had a pleasant smile, but he was tired of those pleasant, let’s-be-nice-to-the-invalid smiles.
The lack of privacy grated on his nerves, but he welcomed the interruptions, routine though they were, because they kept him from brooding too deeply. It wasn’t his nature to fall into despair, but he’d been depressed ever since coming.
There were twenty-four hours in a day - that was 1,440 minutes, or 86,400 seconds. He knew that too well, especially since he’d been stuck within the same four white walls for the last thirty-eight days. Each moment seemed to drag, reminding him of everything he’d lost.
Before, all he’d had to worry about was keeping his team on the course for the Nationals, and from killing each other. Now, that seemed like a far-off dream, a different life.
He was scared. He could end up permanently paralyzed… or die.
He’d never thought about dying before. He was fourteen, and he had his entire life before him. But his body was failing, and though the doctors said it was rare, his condition did occasionally lead to death.
He dreamed of death now, imagining what it’d feel like if his heart stopped working, or the muscles around his lungs became paralyzed. Would it hurt? Or would it be like falling asleep, and not waking up?
He hated thinking on it. He wanted distraction, but there were only so many books he could read, so many times he could go to the activity room and play video games with the other long term pediatric patients. He began to both long and loath for the visits from his teammates. Sanada and Yanagi came most frequently, and their seriousness beat down on him, adding stress to his already burdened soul.
Sanada worried for him. It was clear, in those dark eyes, that the pressure of carrying the team and Yukimura’s hopes for a third National title bothered the vice captain.
“They’re doing well,” he said on Yukimura’s thirty-fourth day in the hospital.
Sanada had managed to convince the nurse to let him take Yukimura for a walk on the hospital grounds, a rare treat. The flowers were blooming, and Yukimura was seating on the bench, touching their fragile petals.
“I knew they would,” Yukimura said. It was true that Rikkai was a strong team, and even without his presence would probably race straight for the title. He felt like he was talking about something distant, something that didn’t concern him.
“They’re working harder for you.”
Yukimura hated that. He wished that his team didn’t feel motivated to get the National “for buchou” but rather for the sheer thrill of the championship itself. He felt they were misdirected, but didn’t know how to correct them. He couldn’t break their hearts like that.
“I’m proud of them,” he said, giving Sanada the smile he expected.
Talking to Yanagi was worse, because Yanagi spent so much time researching Guillain Barre. Yanagi had his own theories what Yukimura should be doing, and always said that he should ask for second and third opinions. However, he did firmly support the surgery which his primary doctor had suggested to speed recovery.
“It does sound a bit gruesome, but I think it would be best,” Yanagi said on Yukimura’s thirty-sixth day in the hospital. “It is, of course, your decision to make.”
Yukimura, sitting on his bed with his hands folded in his lap, had nodded slowly. He knew that plasmapheresis was something that his parents were pushing for, but they were being kind and letting him make his own decision. It would mean committing to a series of procedures, and he was frightened of the idea. It sounded vampiric.
“I’ve had a cold, so they’re not ready for it,” Yukimura said honestly. “And I haven’t decided.”
Yanagi had nodded slowly. “We only want what’s best for you.”
That was the case with everyone. Everyone wanted what was best for Yukimura, and Yukimura wanted to be left alone… but he hated the loneliness.
On his thirty-ninth day in the hospital, Yukimura Seichi wondered what the point was. He hated the life he was leading, and wondered if getting better was possible. The life he’d led before seemed so far away.
“Ne, buchou? You busy?”
Green eyes looked at him curiously, and he blinked at Kirihara Akaya, the team’s second year prodigy, who stood wearing casual clothing and a grin that meant mischief.
Kirihara’s visits had always been the most irregular, and he’d usually been accompanied by another teammate. During Kirihara’s first year, he’d decided, as vice captain, that someone needed to be assigned to keep an eye on Kirihara, and the mayhem he caused under reasonable control.
“Who’s with you?” he asked, leaning forward a bit in an attempt to see if Jackal lurked out of sight.
“You are now,” Kirihara said cheerfully, before slouching over and taking a place on the bed without a by-your-leave.
Yukimura laughed a bit, amused as always. Kirihara wasn’t rude, so much as oblivious to social niceties. “I don’t think Sanada will accept that.”
Kirihara winked. “You outrank him,” he said impishly.
Giggles welled up in Yukimura, and he changed them into a polite cough. Guys didn’t giggle, and he received enough hell about his feminine face as it was. “Akaya, are you trying to get me in trouble?”
“I wouldn’t do that!” Kirihara protested. “Sanada would blame me! He always does!” he said, before starting in on a long-winded rant on Sanada’s temper and unfair practice policies.
Yukimura found himself laughing several times as Kirihara forgot about anything except his irritation. Kirihara was nothing if not honest, and his snide opinions on Marui’s weight (he’d gained five pounds), Jackal’s nerves (Yukimura suspected that between Kirihara’s own antics and Niou’s latest pranks, the half-Brazilian would have a nervous break-down before graduation), Niou and Yagyuu (or Yagyuu and Niou, depending on the day), Yanagi and his data, and last but definitely not least Sanada and his temper, had Yukimura rolling.
He leaned back against his bed, hitting the button so it moved into a fully upright position and let Kirihara’s voice roll over him. Every now and then Kirihara would ask an opinion, but then he would plough on, undeterred.
Kirihara had been going on for nearly two hours when the nurse came in to take vitals, and it was like coming crashing to the ground after remembering how to fly. He tried not to sulk as the wrist cuff squeezed for his blood pressure, and Kirihara went still.
It only took two minutes, but Kirihara seemed subdued. It occurred to him then that somehow or other that he’d never seen Yukimura being fussed over.
“I’m sorry,” Kirihara said abruptly, rising to his feet. “I… forgot.”
He raised a hand to forestall the second year from leaving. “Please… stay.”
Kirihara looked uncertain as he settled down a bit more uncertainly. “They don’t know I’m here,” he said. “I just wanted to see you. You’re the only one who really listens to me.”
Something clenched in Yukimura’s chest, and he felt like a release valve had been let go. He felt a genuine smile spread across his face as he realized that Kirihara was visiting him and not his invalid captain. Only with Kirihara could he feel like himself, and forget about his problems.
“Akaya,” he said, and he smiled, reaching out and pulling the younger boy closer. It was awkward, but he managed to wrap his arms around the impulsive boy. Kirihara smelled like the outdoors and soap, a clean fresh fragrance with a hint of something more.
Kirihara seemed a bit stunned, but then he wrapped his arms around Yukimura as well, leaning against his chest for a second. Kirihara, though, could only stay affectionate for a second before pulling back, an impish smile on his face, with his angular eyes sparkling. Most people would have made statements of how they missed Yukimura, or how they wanted Yukimura to get well quickly, but Kirihara wasn’t like that.
“Sanada is going to be so jealous. He has pictures of you in his locker.”
This time Yukimura did giggle.