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solongsun It was hard to say which one of them Ruki was more worried about.
Since their terrible fight in the music room neither Aoi nor Die were speaking to each other, and the atmosphere was oppressive; as a group they felt splintered, torn apart in some fundamental way. To Ruki it was as though somebody had ripped the spine out of them, leaving the nerve endings raw and the flesh bloody, the bright muscle aching and exposed. Their silence was a splintery, frightening thing that froze the air.
All in all, it felt like a relief that Aoi shut himself away so much. With Die and Uruha hanging around each other all the time he seemed to prefer to be alone: he hardly spoke at mealtimes and he was looking different, with dark circles under his eyes and his hair messy and matted where he hadn't been bothered to drag a comb through. His usually proud posture had sagged into a defeated stoop, and it was hard to separate it with the image of him shut away in his dorm; it was as though spending so much time in a small, cramped place was making him small and cramped as well. He had a look to him as though he had been trapped for too long in a cloud of unhealthy air; his face was pale, his gaze dull.
The weather wasn't helping. Winter seemed to have moved in overnight, and the light that came in through the windows was dim and grey. The skies around the surrounding hills seemed permanently misty, washing out the horizon, and when Ruki opened windows the air from outside smelled dank; the ripe, organic smell of green things rotting. Some of the trees were already bare, and the ground was brownish with muddy leaves. The whole world seemed to be dying.
For his own part, Die was trying. He wasn't allowed to eat unsupervised any more; he would have an orderly in the seat next to him for the entirety of each meal, monitoring every mouthful, and it was obvious the strain was getting to him. He would swallow painfully, his eyes glittering and hectic, his jaw tensed with stress, and after the plates had been cleared away the countdown would begin: the clock ticking until Die managed to slip away to the bathroom, running the shower to disguise the noise of his retching.
The pipes would gurgle in the walls, and a little more of Die's body would rush towards the sewers.
The end of the week grew drier and colder, and the Friday found Ruki lying on his stomach on his bed, doodling absently and trying not to think too hard about what might have been in Eiji's letter.
He wondered how many minutes and hours he'd wasted composing letters to Eiji in his head. When he'd first arrived, it had seemed like the only way he could organise his thoughts; it had been as though he hadn't even known what he was thinking or feeling until he'd heard Eiji's voice in his head, reading it out. His voice was smoky sounding, slightly gravelly from years of cigarettes.
He glanced up and saw the darker spots on the walls where Kai's posters had once hung. If he closed his eyes he could summon them up still in their old arrangement: the giant Yellow Submarine poster that had been fastened over the head of his bed; the handmade banner that read HERE COMES THE SUN in bubbly psychedelic writing, clashing shades of pink and green.
He thought of them all on a scrap pile somewhere, or being turned into paper soup in the recycling plant, and his stomach hurt.
There was a tap at the door and he sat up stiffly, his elbows locking. The collection of loose sketches on the paper in front of him looked smudgy and unappealing; he sighed and balled them up. 'Yeah?'
The door opened peremptorily and the head nurse stepped in, her hand – her nails were very blunt, Ruki noticed, almost square – wrapped firmly around the arm of a young man who looked vaguely familiar: something about the way he stood, Ruki thought at first, until he noticed the grey blanket draped around his shoulders and made the connection.
The man in the blanket. Nervously, he sat up straighter. 'Hello.'
'Ruki, good afternoon.' With a pushy little gesture the nurse guided the man further into the room; he went docilely, his eyes weirdly unfocussed. 'I'd like you to meet your new roommate, Hara Toshimasa.'
'Oh.' Ruki rubbed an uncomfortable hand through his hair. 'Hi.'
The man didn't react, but when he was prodded he sat himself down on the bed in a vague kind of way. The nurse gave Ruki a small twitch of a smile, looking almost anxious.
'Hara might be a little sleepy,' she explained, 'Until we can get his medication fine-tuned.'
'Oh,' Ruki said, hoping he didn't sound as perturbed as he felt. Sleepy was a bit of an understatement, in his opinion; in the time she'd been talking, Hara had leant back against the wall and his eyes had slipped closed, his face slack. He was sweating, Ruki noticed; beads of it were banding around his temples.
'Shall I leave you two to get acquainted?' She peered at Ruki's new roommate, 'Perhaps when he's feeling a little more up to it, you can give him a tour and introduce him around? We've been through the rules, of course, but we do find our new patients engage with the regime here a little more if they hear them from a contemporary. Yes? Well...'
She hesitated, but the man on the bed was completely unresponsive. Ruki swallowed.
'Well,' she said at last, 'Thank you, Ruki. Do make him welcome.'
She left the door open behind her, and Ruki turned himself a little awkwardly to face the other man, planting his bare feet on the floor and knotting his fingers together between his knees. The man's eyes opened a crack, and then closed again.
It was hard to tell how old he was. He certainly looked tired – his skin had an unhealthy ashy colour to it and his eyes were darkly shadowed – but underneath the exhausted lines his face was falling into and the way his hair was sticking damply to his skin, Ruki thought he might not have been that old at all. He was tall and skinny, a collection of long shapes all loosely knotted together. Where the blanket was slipping off one shoulder, Ruki saw that there was a white dressing stuck over the crook of his arm and an ugly bruise branching out of it, following up the vein, like he was wearing his blood on the outside. Looking at it, he suppressed a shudder.
It was weird, sharing a room with somebody so out of it. In time Ruki shuffled further back onto his bed, crossed his legs neatly and returned to drawing: since Hara was so still he was the easiest thing to focus on, and Ruki squinted at his paper, trying to figure out if the man looked as dead in real life as he did on paper. He roused himself only once, to pull his blanket tighter around him and lie down properly. He rubbed his cheek against the pillow like a child, but gave no indication that he was aware he wasn't alone; he didn't open his eyes and though his lips moved faintly, he didn't say anything Ruki could catch. He shivered occasionally, but that was all, and when the sky started to darken and dinner time approached, Ruki found himself nervous to approach him.
Tentatively, he poked the man's shoulder. He didn't open his eyes, but his face screwed itself up into a scowl.
'Hara,' he said, and cleared his throat. 'Hey. Hara?'
It took some time, but two dark brown eyes slowly opened and took him in. Hara reached up and rubbed at them ineffectually.
'Who're you?' he said, his voice a little slurred and rough.
'I'm Ruki. I'm your roommate.'
'Oh.' He was quiet for a moment, blinking up at Ruki in a dazed sort of way.
'It's almost dinner,' Ruki said, and the man started to close his eyes again.
'I'm not hungry.'
'But...you sort of have to eat, here. It's a rule.'
The only answer he got to that was a low groaning noise. Ruki bit his lip. 'Please get up,' he tried. 'If you don't eat, we'll get in trouble.'
There was a pause. 'Trouble?'
'Yeah. They can...they have punishments.'
There was another long silence, but at the end of it Hara started to push himself up, rubbing at his own face blearily. He seemed to feel his own sweat against his hand and grimaced. He pulled his hair back but then realised he had nothing to tie it up with, and let it drop around his shoulders. Unsteadily he got to his feet, swaying a little; he yawned and shivered and gripped the blanket tighter around his shoulders.
Standing up, even hunched over the way he was, he towered over Ruki. He gripped the wall to keep himself upright and Ruki wondered briefly how it would look if Hara had chosen to lean on him, instead: like he was some kind of human crutch, probably.
In the corridor outside, there was some slow activity as the collection of patients made their way to the table. He saw Die walking as if to the guillotine, his head down and his hands jammed painfully in his pockets; his arms were so thin that the shape of the bones was visible, horrible and vulnerable looking, like something that desperately needed to be touched but was far too fragile to bear it. In the dining room he took his seat at the table and let out a long, low breath, and uncomfortably Ruki surveyed the range of chairs.
Kai's old seat seemed to stand out like an exclamation mark.
'I suppose that's the free chair,' he said uneasily. 'If you want to sit there.'
Wearily, Hara pulled it out and dropped himself down into it. He rubbed his face harshly and gave a wide yawn.
'Thanks.' He caught sight of Die on the other side of the table and rested his cheek on his palm. 'Hey, skinny.'
Die's look was nervous. 'Hi.'
Noisily, Aoi scraped his chair over the floor as he jerked it out. He sat down firmly and leant back, lit cigarette already propped between his lips, and surveyed Hara coldly. His throat hollowed as he took a deep pull on his cigarette, and he let grey smoke billow from his nostrils.
'Who's this,' he demanded.
'It's my new roommate,' Ruki said in a small voice. The room was filling up around them, there was the sound of chairs being pulled out and slow bodies settling themselves, but the only thing he could properly focus on was Aoi's face. It felt sharper than everything else in the room, vivid with dislike and veiled with smoke. His eyes seemed to burn.
'Oh, right. So he's not content to sleep in Kai's bed; now he has to sit in his chair, as well.'
'C'mon, Aoi,' Ruki said quietly, 'There's nowhere else for him to sit.'
'Then he should sit on the floor,' Aoi snapped, slamming the palm of his hand on the tabletop in a way that made even Shinya jump. He made a soft sound of upset, and something darkened in Kyo's face.
The moment was only partially defused by the orderly pulling a chair up next to Die, halfway between being at the table and hovering over his shoulder; Ruki noted with some distaste that it was the same man who had struck him that one time, in the music room. It felt like ages ago now; another lifetime. Die and Aoi had been so close then, the staff had needed to physically wrench them apart.
He remembered that – the man grabbing Aoi by the hair and sending him wheeling into the wall; the way Die had leapt at him then, his skinny body spiky with anger but useless, weak as paper. He wondered if Aoi was remembering too. Looking at his eyes, it was impossible to tell.
Their trays landed in front of them, and Die made a sort of whimpering noise, running his hand through his hair. The orderly handed his chopsticks to him, and when Die faltered, Ruki watched the man grab his wrist and squeeze his fingers harshly around them, making him hold on.
'Don't be so rough,' Aoi said sharply, and the orderly's face twitched in annoyance. He gave a quick glance over his shoulder to check that none of the other staff were within earshot and then leant in close.
'You want to push me into punishing you, that's fine,' he said, his voice pitched low but very clear, 'Just you give me a reason, faggot. I'd love to.'
Looking unimpressed, Aoi blew cigarette smoke in his face. The orderly leant back again and pushed Die's hand towards his food. 'Eat.'
It seemed the whole table held their breaths as Die haltingly took a mouthful of food, chewed, and swallowed. An unreadable look on his face, Aoi dragged his eyes away and focussed them back on Hara, his expression flashing back to anger.
'So,' he said bitterly, 'What's up with you?'
Ruki's new roommate shrugged groggily.
'Just tired.'
'I mean what's wrong with you?' Aoi said from between gritted teeth, 'Why are you here?'
Hara shrugged, but the movement made his blanket slip and reveal his damaged arm. Ruki felt the entire table follow the line of Aoi's eyes to the bruising, where they hardened with disgust. 'Not a fucking junkie,' he said softly. 'Pathetic.'
'Another mouthful,' the orderly said at Die's side. 'Go.'
Junkie? Ruki thought desperately; was that what he was? He shot Hara a troubled look, but to his credit, the other man just gave a tired sigh.
'Yep,' he said in a bored sort of voice. He took a mouthful of rice and chewed slowly, looking supremely unperturbed.
'Great,' Aoi said savagely, 'Congratulations. That makes you the biggest fuck-up here.'
'Does it,' Hara said tonelessly. He gave another yawn and then turned to Uruha, who sat at his side. 'Hi.'
Wordless, Uruha simply shook his head and thumped his own fist against the side of his skull, and Hara's eyes cast themselves a little uncertainly around the table.
'What are you doing here if you're a junkie?' Ruki asked, surprising himself. The word sounded harsh from his lips, and he stuttered, 'I mean – if you're not sick?'
Hara just shrugged, but Aoi leaned forward, a nasty look in his eyes: 'Sometimes the state sends trash like this through,' he hissed, 'They scrape them off the street and send them in for rehab and therapy, like there's any point to it.'
'Aoi,' the orderly said quietly, 'Are you getting out of hand? Do I need to manage you?'
Aoi shot him an annoyed glance. 'You tell me,' he said, his voice dangerous, and the orderly shook his head. He gripped Die's shoulder hard.
'Eat,' he muttered, and Ruki thought he might have seen a brief flash of irritation over Die's face.
'I am,' he said, his voice expressionless.
'Then eat faster. Do I have to feed you, Die? Do I have to feed you like a baby?'
Die must have hesitated too long, because the man grabbed the spoon from his tray and scooped up a large clump of rice. Casting another quick look over his shoulder, he grabbed Die by the hair and forced the spoon between his lips, making him choke. Tears sprang into Die's eyes and the orderly let him go in disgust as he coughed rice over his plate, taking a great gasp of breath once his throat was clear.
The next few things happened very quickly, but to Ruki, they felt slow. They felt artificially slow, in fact, as if time itself was faltering, and he saw everything in what felt like ultra high definition: he saw Aoi's hand make a fist as he rose out of his chair; saw the tension in his body as he threw himself across the table and the arc of water as it spilled from a knocked cup, rice and vegetables scattering over the tabletop; saw the look of surprise contort the orderly's face for the briefest moment – all he had time for – before Aoi was on him, the force of his body hitting directly upon the man's chest and knocking him off his chair and to the floor. They landed messily, the orderly on his back and Aoi above him, and Ruki saw Aoi's face pull itself into a snarl as he thrust the burning end of his cigarette exactly between the other man's eyes.
The uproar was instantaneous. The orderly howled, kicked out, and threw Aoi off him easily; he grasped him by the back of the neck and thrust him face-down onto the floor. Footsteps in rubber-soled shoes squeaked in the corridor and the room was flooded with white; orderlies and nurses in their snowy uniforms, and everything seemed to be happening at once: Uruha's face petrified at seeing his two best friends treated so roughly, his fingernails digging bloody crescents into his own cheeks; Hara staggering out of his chair; Kyo frozen; Shinya with his eyes shut tight and his hands gripping desperately at his own shoulders.
The burn on the orderly's forehead was a meaty pink and streaked with ash. He staggered to his feet in an ungainly way; Aoi was still clawing at him, trying to drag him back down, and with a half-closed fist the orderly swiftly broke his nose. The blood was vivid, almost too dark to be real, and shocking in its quantity; it ran fiercely and Ruki watched as Die made some harsh noise and stumbled upright, out of his chair.
His face paled, and he folded double. He coughed once, roughly, and gave a dizzy sort of glance outwards before his legs gave out. He collapsed in an oddly vertical kind of way, as if he had simply crumpled.
'Die!' Aoi cried, his voice thick, bubbling through the blood. On the other side of the table Die was lying in a messy sort of pile on the floor, his breath wheezing uselessly in his throat and an awful expression on his face; the nurses closed in around him as a wall of white but Aoi was fighting through them, refusing to be dragged back, speckling the floor in coin-sized droplets of blood: 'Die,' he kept saying, 'Die—'
The T-shirt was scissored away from Die's skin, revealing the poor stem of his body; the nurses seemed to be everywhere at once, rolling seamlessly into action; taking his pulse and pushing his hair away from his mouth and holding his head steady.
'Call an ambulance,' somebody was saying, and over the top of them Aoi was almost screaming is this a fucking hospital or not?, and when Ruki managed to scramble around the table what he saw frightened him, because Die's face was a ruddy red-grey and his breathing was only happening in harsh, disconnected gasps, and his body was all wrong somehow – his legs horribly swollen and his throat hollowing with effort and his eyes rolling fearfully in his head. His mouth was flecked with pinkish foam and the lips underneath it were a weird purple. There was a grinding sound as the chairs and table were shoved away from him; a window swung wide like a mouth to give him air.
His hand, a thin claw with bluish fingernails, groped pointlessly; still fighting against the orderlies that tried to pull him away, Aoi grasped at it. Their fingers locked tightly and Ruki saw it as Die struggled to focus; as two sets of terrified dark eyes met.
'Aoi,' he said almost soundlessly, and Aoi's knuckles whitened with the strength of his grip.
'I'm so sorry,' he said, his words running over each other in their haste to get out, 'Die, I'm so sorry.'
Die smiled at him, the expression ghoulish with the blood on his teeth and horribly contorted. 'If anybody could have saved me,' he said in a gritty, distorted voice, 'It would have been you.'
The rest was immaterial, lost in a sort of rushing sound in Ruki's ears: Aoi crying out, a hypodermic needle plunging into his upper arm. Hara stumbling back against a wall, white-faced. Shinya huddled in a corner, his hands clasped over his own head.
Ruki felt Kyo's hand on his waist, and he let his face fall into the other man's shoulder. Outside, the mist completely obscured the hills.
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I didn't expect Aoi to be so openly hostile to Totchi. I wonder if that's him projecting his frustration with Die, using the "how dare you replace Kai" as an excuse to express his grief, or if there's something more behind it. Like maybe thinking it's Totchi's fault he's a junkie while the rest of them are victims to their illnesses (or their parents' stupidity, in Aoi's case).
That orderly needs to be fired. And break his nose too, for good measure. What Die says to Aoi there at the end... I can't even; it will make me cry again. I stand by my previous statement - if you kill Die, I'm not speaking to you anymore.