8th dream; [waiting]
Akira is walking down a hospital corridor. He's dressed like an ordinary boy in a hoodie and jeans, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He takes slow, measured steps. Each echoes off the white, polished floor and walls. The flourescent lights overhead flicker and hum, clearly in their last days of life.
One of them lets out a loud pop as it dies. Akira jumps a little.
Kakashi is leaning against a door frame where he wasn't before. He's reading a book and looking as lazy as usual.
"He's waiting for you, you know," Kakashi drawls.
Akira stares at the door.
"But no one ever--"
When he looks back to Kakashi, the older man has disappeared into thin air.
"--waits for me."
Akira shrugs and opens the door into a familiar room. His dorm at Fuuka Academy. Two beds, two dressers, and a sheet hung between to divide the rooms. Akira's side has punching bag and some free weights resting on the bed.
On the other side, a boy is sleeping.
He is angelic. His face is round and soft, his brown hair curves over his forehead gracefully.
"Takumi..."
Still walking slowly, like he's not quite sure the ground is steady, Akira makes his way to the bed and sits down next to his.
His dear, dear friend.
The young man he loves.
In a week or so, Takumi is going to die. Your Child (a giant metal toad, something like a summon) will be ambushed from above while trying to escape a skirmish. And you'll be flat in the dirt when you feel that horrible tearing and Takumi will cry out your name and clutch his chest and try to get to you as he dissolves into green dust.
Akira is crying. The tears fall freely down his face and spatter with soft noises on the bedspread. Takumi stirs, opens wide blue eyes.
"Akira...kun? What's wrong?"
"You're gonna die. You're gonna die because I love you. I can't stop. I can't control how I feel at all. I'm sorry."
"Oh... is that all?" Takumi's eyes flutter shut and he seems to be smiling a little. "I wasn't ever going to live that long after all, with being so sick. I think it's better... I got to spend some time being alive with Akira-kun, than living forever never having met him."
"Takumi," Akira whimpers, scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palm. "You're such a moron."
"Sleepy..." Takumi sounds far away. But he is here, he is the warmth in this room.
"Get some rest, you need to build up your strength, idiot." Akira's voice is a paper-thin, adoring whisper. "I'll be here."
Takumi drifts back to sleep. Akira takes his hand.
[Akira wakes up sniffling, rubbing his eyes with his fists. He'd stayed up in fear he'd reveal the horrible details of the war, of his feelings for Itachi and Naruto, of a million other things. He had not expected this. Not expected to be reminded of the distance between him and dead Takumi. Near-inconsolable, he curls up tightly in his bedclothes, rocking himself slightly.]
One of them lets out a loud pop as it dies. Akira jumps a little.
Kakashi is leaning against a door frame where he wasn't before. He's reading a book and looking as lazy as usual.
"He's waiting for you, you know," Kakashi drawls.
Akira stares at the door.
"But no one ever--"
When he looks back to Kakashi, the older man has disappeared into thin air.
"--waits for me."
Akira shrugs and opens the door into a familiar room. His dorm at Fuuka Academy. Two beds, two dressers, and a sheet hung between to divide the rooms. Akira's side has punching bag and some free weights resting on the bed.
On the other side, a boy is sleeping.
He is angelic. His face is round and soft, his brown hair curves over his forehead gracefully.
"Takumi..."
Still walking slowly, like he's not quite sure the ground is steady, Akira makes his way to the bed and sits down next to his.
His dear, dear friend.
The young man he loves.
In a week or so, Takumi is going to die. Your Child (a giant metal toad, something like a summon) will be ambushed from above while trying to escape a skirmish. And you'll be flat in the dirt when you feel that horrible tearing and Takumi will cry out your name and clutch his chest and try to get to you as he dissolves into green dust.
Akira is crying. The tears fall freely down his face and spatter with soft noises on the bedspread. Takumi stirs, opens wide blue eyes.
"Akira...kun? What's wrong?"
"You're gonna die. You're gonna die because I love you. I can't stop. I can't control how I feel at all. I'm sorry."
"Oh... is that all?" Takumi's eyes flutter shut and he seems to be smiling a little. "I wasn't ever going to live that long after all, with being so sick. I think it's better... I got to spend some time being alive with Akira-kun, than living forever never having met him."
"Takumi," Akira whimpers, scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palm. "You're such a moron."
"Sleepy..." Takumi sounds far away. But he is here, he is the warmth in this room.
"Get some rest, you need to build up your strength, idiot." Akira's voice is a paper-thin, adoring whisper. "I'll be here."
Takumi drifts back to sleep. Akira takes his hand.
[Akira wakes up sniffling, rubbing his eyes with his fists. He'd stayed up in fear he'd reveal the horrible details of the war, of his feelings for Itachi and Naruto, of a million other things. He had not expected this. Not expected to be reminded of the distance between him and dead Takumi. Near-inconsolable, he curls up tightly in his bedclothes, rocking himself slightly.]