[Code Blue] Two Solitudes
TWO SOLITUDES
Author: Ranier
Series: Code Blue (season 2)
Character/Pairing: Aizawa x Shiraishi
Summary: [One-shot] This is what she will hear when he's gotten her cornered. Preferably inside a room with no doors.
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This is what you’ll hear when I got you cornered. Preferably inside a room with no doors.
These are the words I will never say.
Still, listen.
I want to touch your waist, your waist where my hands rests and curls to follow your curves, and I want to taste the way you move when I have you in my grip. I don’t want to miss a single thing you do. I have you within this fist, this controlling desire I have to take everything you in my own; do you believe that I want you this much?
The way you cut across the concrete field, running in your indoor shoes, afraid of what you may have become aware of, this monstrous thing between us, the way I heat up down there just by a look of your face, or a lift of your lips, taut and wanting. The smell of you, beneath the antiseptics, the colors of your face above all blood, red. I’m not denying this, no longer, and I believe you are past your fear by miles. I want the world to see you with me, I want them to know you’re mine, that every single moment that pass in your mind has me in it, that your thought never strays away from my being.
That’s how live you, that’s how I experience you. I’ve watched you for a while, for years, for every second I have you in the room, in the room with me, even though I’m not looking at you, even though I’m speaking to somebody else, every cell in this body vibrate towards your frequency and yours respond in kind. We collide, you beckon me to come forward, hitherto an unspoken invitation for me to always invade your space. I pour everything about me into you and my words do not need to find a comfortable zone to sail through; you let me say whatever damned thing I want to say. I said some cruel things and you didn’t bat an eyelash, only looking like you were about to burst in confusion: does he like me or does he secretly hate me?
See this world the way I do.
I am the center of this world, and you’re the center of me. The fragile, weak, pathetic woman you’re always going to be is the core of what I see as right, good, and just. This is my world, without you threaded in every fabric of its existence. I am constantly puzzled by how I lived before I met you; perhaps everything was just a prelude, a rather forgettable opening to the climax when you strutted in that overly large doctor gown across your shoulders into my peripheral vision. You were a grown woman hiding a child within that body, perfect skin.
I’ve done everything I could to rip that child apart from you, to pull it outside, and to let the grown woman alone. But no matter what I did, it never worked. Perhaps that ingrown childishness is what creates the kind of doctor you are.
I will be what people call a brilliant doctor. But you are the kind of doctor people will include in their New Year prayers, in their thoughts whenever they see a living, breathing person dear to them. I don’t envy you, although I know you sometimes envy me this edge, this ruthless efficiency. I will be great. You will be memorable and adored.
People call you kind. I call you soft.
You will have a suitable marriage-your parents will allow you to choose love and you can afford this because you have such pedigree.
I will not have a marriage-my parents have made that decision for me a long time ago.
This is why we are never more than colleagues. This is why we always have a physical distance between us, except when our arms work together to save a life. This is why we do not associate outside work, except for one night where both of us got drunk at the bar your friend owns. I still remember the pistachios. Your hand around my neck. The lime on your breath, mingled with alcohol. You murmured into my skin and you told me a secret you couldn’t tell the others. I could feel their curiosity and out of courtesy they averted their eyes, although Fujikawa couldn’t help himself few glances and smirks.
This is what we are. Confidants of each other’s secrets. As amazing as it sounds, I trust you who trusts too easily. We find secluded spots-an empty examination room, the storage, the elevator, a stretch of deserted hallway, three a.m. when everybody else have gone to sleep and we speak in whispers, stealing gaps in time because in the late hours of the night, forever stretches and one becomes too honest.
I have a need of you. In the operating room, sometimes you are the only person who knows what I’m thinking two steps ahead while the others trail behind, doubt filling their heads. Outside, you keep me sane, busy, and human.
I am not denying you.
I’m not making any promises, either.
Do you think you can live with that?