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Apr. 1st, 2013 06:59 am"Live, Hitori. Live, and be happy."
The Sunday after losing Nageki, the afternoon light streams into his hospital room and heats it almost to the point of discomfort. It would be uncomfortable for Hitori if he cared about the burns on his hands or anywhere else on his body, scattered like dust in the wind, but the last thing he cares about is whether he's comfortable or not. Nageki wasn't comfortable when she died. Nageki wasn't comfortable when she was alive, either, was she? How long had she been so despairing she would take her own life? Why couldn't she leave, even when he finally showed up to save her (late, late as always, he's never ever been there when she's needed him)?
What happened at St. Pigeonation's?
-----------
On Tuesday, he's discharged without his explicit agreement. He's not well enough to leave, he argues, he needs to be committed for a while. He needs help. It's difficult to be as persuasive as he usually is when he can barely form a sentence, though, and he can't articulate the kind of help he needs. The kind of help he knows Nageki would definitely want him to get.
It doesn't seem right that they'd discharge someone who can't speak a full sentence and bursts into tears at the drop of a pin. His roommate threw a pillow at him last night, hissing at him to stop crying about Nageki. He can't stop crying about Nageki. In every dream he relives her death, the look on her face as she closed the door, the trembling in her voice as she told him her wishes. He can't even wrap his head around her first request. Her body should have been destroyed completely in those temperatures, there shouldn't be anything left. Just ashes. Did she want him to collect those?
He doesn't care about why. He just wants to do what she asked of him.
Her second request isn't any easier. Live, and be happy. He can't be happy without Nageki, can he? She's been the most important person in his life since he was seven years old. Not a single day has gone by that she hasn't occupied his thoughts, what to do when he gets home and sees her, what to do when she gets home and they can be together again. She'll never be home again, now. He'll never see her again.
She wanted him to at least try, though. To try to be happy and move on. He doesn't know what happens after death, but if she's watching over him he doesn't want her to be upset with him. It's important to try.
His voice is still hoarse when they finally make him leave the hospital Tuesday night. There's no strength left in him to argue now. When he gets home, he thinks the college might have some grief counseling services. Nageki would definitely want him to try for that. She wouldn't want him to cry the whole trip home, right?
(I can't, Nageki. I can't do it. I can't be happy without you. And it's my fault you suffered. It's my fault you're gone.)
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The transition from distance college to going to classes is bizarre to Hitori, but he knows he needs to do it. There's no reason for him to be at home all the time anymore, and work only takes up so much of his time. Nageki would want him to meet people, to make friends and do things with them, he guesses. All the things she must have thought he was doing before she died, when really he was just at home studying and waiting for letters from her.
The counselor he's been seeing is more interested in giving him medication than listening to him cry, and that doesn't surprise him. He doesn't like the counselor after all, he feels like she gets bored with him easily and gives him textbook lines that could apply to anybody's problems at all. It's normal to feel that way, Uzune. But why? Why is it normal to feel as miserable and guilty as he does? Is it because he's right, because it's his fault? It's hard to say who's right between Nageki-in-theory and himself. They were both on such extreme ends of who to blame for what.
The medication helps, at least the symptoms. Fewer and fewer people would realize he goes home at night to cry and wish the fire Nageki set had killed him, too, but he's so absentminded now. He's learning that as long as his grades don't suffer, no one gives him a second glance.
It makes sense to Hitori. No one ever gave him a second glance besides Nageki before, anyway.
(I'm trying. You'll forgive me for failing, right, Nageki?)
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There's a guy in Hitori's chemistry class that keeps staring at him. Even Hitori notices, he can't pretend the guy isn't staring, and in trying to figure out why Hitori finds himself staring back. He knows it isn't that his clothes are messed up or his hair or there's anything on his face (he's gotten better about that, Nageki, in the few months since she's died he's been able to do laundry and make himself presentable to his classmates at least) because it's been happening for a week now.
He notices things about this guy that he wouldn't if they weren't locked in a staring contest. The guy doesn't back down or look away, for one, and Hitori shudders at his forwardness; isn't that a little rude? But beyond that, this guy is... really tall, and muscular. It's intimidating to Hitori, small and sleek. He's always been strong (well, less so now than before) but now he has to question his definition of the word. And he has the kind of facial hair Hitori's always wished he could grow, the kind Nageki always screwed up her nose at ("I'm glad you don't have a beard like that, Hitori. It must be so itchy for people who kiss him"). He seems so cool and in control of everything, unlike Hitori who's relied on his helpfulness to be likeable...
Nageki wouldn't like him. That's what Hitori thinks when his classmate creeps into his thoughts at home, that Nageki wouldn't like him, but he can't pinpoint why.
Even so, he finds himself dressing just a little more carefully when he goes to his chemistry labs, and getting up so early in the morning has become noticeably easier.
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It's an unseasonably warm autumn night. Hitori doesn't have many nice clothes and he hasn't worn them tonight, but he has paid special attention to making sure he looks nice tonight, which he's sure contrasts with the way he fidgets under the awning of this café. He doesn't want to seem nervous or anxious, he wants to seem smooth and cool and like somebody people should want around. He wants to seem natural and comfortable, like he was with Nageki.
"Was." Maybe he'll never feel that comfortable again. It's certainly beginning to feel that way...
"Yo, Uzune!"
It's a deep voice, not high and obnoxious like Hitori's, and not quite as familiar as maybe it should be. He recognizes it anyway, and turns abruptly to see-- "A-ah, Yoshida-kun!" His classmate strides up to him, easy and sure of himself. Hitori's positive that the pang he feels is jealousy, but he shouldn't let himself feel that way, not tonight. Regardless of the reason, Hitori's heart pounds hard in his chest, and he nods as Yoshida leads him into the café for their date.
Nageki wouldn't like Yoshida, he knows, but he knows that she would want him to try his best to be happy, and... and Yoshida seems to like him. And he seems nice... He won't let Hitori pay, and Hitori's too nervous to argue to at least pay for half.
"So, you popped up out of nowhere in the middle of term. What's up with that?"
Hitori pauses, his hand outstretched for his coffee mug, only halfway there. That's... that 's a question he isn't sure he wants to answer, not because he's ashamed but because it requires a lot of backstory. After a second he flashes Yoshida an apologetic smile, retrieving his mug and taking a sip. It's not sweetened at all, but Hitori doesn't grimace. Yoshida paid for this and he can't show that he doesn't appreciate it, or that he's ungrateful.
"I transferred from the distance program, that's all. ...It got lonely." Surprisingly, his voice doesn't waver at all. He doesn't even sound like he's hiding anything, and with the way Yoshida nods he can tell that he believes him. Nageki would never have believed him. Something would have given him away, but... Yoshida barely knows him. He'll never be able to know him the way Nageki did, so it's not fair to compare them. Hitori decides that he'll do his best not to.
Yoshida doesn't talk much. Hitori's used to being the chatty one, but he's not used to the flickers of annoyance crossing somebody's face when he tries to fill the silence. They're not close enough to have a comfortable silence, so he's sure somebody has to fill it, and he's concerned because when he asks, Yoshida won't tell him that anything's wrong. Maybe Hitori's just bad at reading faces after everything--? Maybe it's the medication.
They talk into the night and only leave when the café closes. Hitori wants to go home. He's miserable again, and wants to go home and be miserable instead of stay with Yoshida and feel lonely. This hasn't been good, he doesn't think, and Yoshida's decided he doesn't really like Hitori after all. Hitori knows he shouldn't decide for himself whether he likes Yoshida-- his judgment can't be trusted anymore, can it?
His stomach twists when Yoshida grins and suggests that Hitori come to his place. He wishes that he'd asked, but... but not everyone can cater to what makes Hitori the most comfortable. He can't mess this up. It would be important to Nageki that he get over her.
He agrees, trying not to show that he's shy but failing. Yoshida calls him on it and he's so embarrassed, but instead of being angry his date decides to stop for drinks instead.
"Just to loosen you up a little, you know?"
The Sunday after losing Nageki, the afternoon light streams into his hospital room and heats it almost to the point of discomfort. It would be uncomfortable for Hitori if he cared about the burns on his hands or anywhere else on his body, scattered like dust in the wind, but the last thing he cares about is whether he's comfortable or not. Nageki wasn't comfortable when she died. Nageki wasn't comfortable when she was alive, either, was she? How long had she been so despairing she would take her own life? Why couldn't she leave, even when he finally showed up to save her (late, late as always, he's never ever been there when she's needed him)?
What happened at St. Pigeonation's?
-----------
On Tuesday, he's discharged without his explicit agreement. He's not well enough to leave, he argues, he needs to be committed for a while. He needs help. It's difficult to be as persuasive as he usually is when he can barely form a sentence, though, and he can't articulate the kind of help he needs. The kind of help he knows Nageki would definitely want him to get.
It doesn't seem right that they'd discharge someone who can't speak a full sentence and bursts into tears at the drop of a pin. His roommate threw a pillow at him last night, hissing at him to stop crying about Nageki. He can't stop crying about Nageki. In every dream he relives her death, the look on her face as she closed the door, the trembling in her voice as she told him her wishes. He can't even wrap his head around her first request. Her body should have been destroyed completely in those temperatures, there shouldn't be anything left. Just ashes. Did she want him to collect those?
He doesn't care about why. He just wants to do what she asked of him.
Her second request isn't any easier. Live, and be happy. He can't be happy without Nageki, can he? She's been the most important person in his life since he was seven years old. Not a single day has gone by that she hasn't occupied his thoughts, what to do when he gets home and sees her, what to do when she gets home and they can be together again. She'll never be home again, now. He'll never see her again.
She wanted him to at least try, though. To try to be happy and move on. He doesn't know what happens after death, but if she's watching over him he doesn't want her to be upset with him. It's important to try.
His voice is still hoarse when they finally make him leave the hospital Tuesday night. There's no strength left in him to argue now. When he gets home, he thinks the college might have some grief counseling services. Nageki would definitely want him to try for that. She wouldn't want him to cry the whole trip home, right?
(I can't, Nageki. I can't do it. I can't be happy without you. And it's my fault you suffered. It's my fault you're gone.)
-----------
The transition from distance college to going to classes is bizarre to Hitori, but he knows he needs to do it. There's no reason for him to be at home all the time anymore, and work only takes up so much of his time. Nageki would want him to meet people, to make friends and do things with them, he guesses. All the things she must have thought he was doing before she died, when really he was just at home studying and waiting for letters from her.
The counselor he's been seeing is more interested in giving him medication than listening to him cry, and that doesn't surprise him. He doesn't like the counselor after all, he feels like she gets bored with him easily and gives him textbook lines that could apply to anybody's problems at all. It's normal to feel that way, Uzune. But why? Why is it normal to feel as miserable and guilty as he does? Is it because he's right, because it's his fault? It's hard to say who's right between Nageki-in-theory and himself. They were both on such extreme ends of who to blame for what.
The medication helps, at least the symptoms. Fewer and fewer people would realize he goes home at night to cry and wish the fire Nageki set had killed him, too, but he's so absentminded now. He's learning that as long as his grades don't suffer, no one gives him a second glance.
It makes sense to Hitori. No one ever gave him a second glance besides Nageki before, anyway.
(I'm trying. You'll forgive me for failing, right, Nageki?)
-----------
There's a guy in Hitori's chemistry class that keeps staring at him. Even Hitori notices, he can't pretend the guy isn't staring, and in trying to figure out why Hitori finds himself staring back. He knows it isn't that his clothes are messed up or his hair or there's anything on his face (he's gotten better about that, Nageki, in the few months since she's died he's been able to do laundry and make himself presentable to his classmates at least) because it's been happening for a week now.
He notices things about this guy that he wouldn't if they weren't locked in a staring contest. The guy doesn't back down or look away, for one, and Hitori shudders at his forwardness; isn't that a little rude? But beyond that, this guy is... really tall, and muscular. It's intimidating to Hitori, small and sleek. He's always been strong (well, less so now than before) but now he has to question his definition of the word. And he has the kind of facial hair Hitori's always wished he could grow, the kind Nageki always screwed up her nose at ("I'm glad you don't have a beard like that, Hitori. It must be so itchy for people who kiss him"). He seems so cool and in control of everything, unlike Hitori who's relied on his helpfulness to be likeable...
Nageki wouldn't like him. That's what Hitori thinks when his classmate creeps into his thoughts at home, that Nageki wouldn't like him, but he can't pinpoint why.
Even so, he finds himself dressing just a little more carefully when he goes to his chemistry labs, and getting up so early in the morning has become noticeably easier.
-----------
It's an unseasonably warm autumn night. Hitori doesn't have many nice clothes and he hasn't worn them tonight, but he has paid special attention to making sure he looks nice tonight, which he's sure contrasts with the way he fidgets under the awning of this café. He doesn't want to seem nervous or anxious, he wants to seem smooth and cool and like somebody people should want around. He wants to seem natural and comfortable, like he was with Nageki.
"Was." Maybe he'll never feel that comfortable again. It's certainly beginning to feel that way...
"Yo, Uzune!"
It's a deep voice, not high and obnoxious like Hitori's, and not quite as familiar as maybe it should be. He recognizes it anyway, and turns abruptly to see-- "A-ah, Yoshida-kun!" His classmate strides up to him, easy and sure of himself. Hitori's positive that the pang he feels is jealousy, but he shouldn't let himself feel that way, not tonight. Regardless of the reason, Hitori's heart pounds hard in his chest, and he nods as Yoshida leads him into the café for their date.
Nageki wouldn't like Yoshida, he knows, but he knows that she would want him to try his best to be happy, and... and Yoshida seems to like him. And he seems nice... He won't let Hitori pay, and Hitori's too nervous to argue to at least pay for half.
"So, you popped up out of nowhere in the middle of term. What's up with that?"
Hitori pauses, his hand outstretched for his coffee mug, only halfway there. That's... that 's a question he isn't sure he wants to answer, not because he's ashamed but because it requires a lot of backstory. After a second he flashes Yoshida an apologetic smile, retrieving his mug and taking a sip. It's not sweetened at all, but Hitori doesn't grimace. Yoshida paid for this and he can't show that he doesn't appreciate it, or that he's ungrateful.
"I transferred from the distance program, that's all. ...It got lonely." Surprisingly, his voice doesn't waver at all. He doesn't even sound like he's hiding anything, and with the way Yoshida nods he can tell that he believes him. Nageki would never have believed him. Something would have given him away, but... Yoshida barely knows him. He'll never be able to know him the way Nageki did, so it's not fair to compare them. Hitori decides that he'll do his best not to.
Yoshida doesn't talk much. Hitori's used to being the chatty one, but he's not used to the flickers of annoyance crossing somebody's face when he tries to fill the silence. They're not close enough to have a comfortable silence, so he's sure somebody has to fill it, and he's concerned because when he asks, Yoshida won't tell him that anything's wrong. Maybe Hitori's just bad at reading faces after everything--? Maybe it's the medication.
They talk into the night and only leave when the café closes. Hitori wants to go home. He's miserable again, and wants to go home and be miserable instead of stay with Yoshida and feel lonely. This hasn't been good, he doesn't think, and Yoshida's decided he doesn't really like Hitori after all. Hitori knows he shouldn't decide for himself whether he likes Yoshida-- his judgment can't be trusted anymore, can it?
His stomach twists when Yoshida grins and suggests that Hitori come to his place. He wishes that he'd asked, but... but not everyone can cater to what makes Hitori the most comfortable. He can't mess this up. It would be important to Nageki that he get over her.
He agrees, trying not to show that he's shy but failing. Yoshida calls him on it and he's so embarrassed, but instead of being angry his date decides to stop for drinks instead.
"Just to loosen you up a little, you know?"
