Eleven Red Lotuses | Kageyama Tobio | S/H

Disorientation

・・・　・・・　・・・

     It was a strange week.  The ticking of the clock seemed to ring through every room.  Kageyama couldn't find the motivation to do anything.  All he could do was sit in his bedroom, holding her.  Sometimes, he longed to hear her voice, so he would ask her to tell him about some type of plant.  She always loved talking about them.  
     It was around day three that he was beginning to feel better again.  Maybe it was because the documents had gotten signed and they had a little 'wedding dinner.'  She convinced him to at least show up to volleyball practice, even if he couldn't actually participate.  So here they stood, on the sidelines as he followed the ball back and forth with his eyes.  
     "Don't forget life."  She mumbles.  
     "What?"  He murmurs back.  His mind was a foggy haze at all hours it seemed.  Even with all the light pouring in, it only made the fog harder to see through.  
     "No matter what happens, don't forget life."  She repeats.  "It doesn't stop when you want it to.  It doesn't give you time to mourn, to recoup.  It simply continues.  Don't forget about it, even if you're chasing it."  She offers a soft smile before turning her head back to the game.
     Practice lasts until late.  He couldn't find it in himself to participate, but he did feel a bit energized watching.  (Y/N) had smirked and dragged him off to the lobby.  
     "You can't tell anyone you've seen it until the rest of the school has."  She whispers as she unlocks the lobby doors and slides inside.  She pulls the curtains back with a mighty grin.  Kageyama could only stare up at the painting in awe.  
     He knew it was going to be gorgeous, he didn't doubt that.  The pine tree almost looked like it was alive just in front of him, towering over the room in a kind ruling like it was the king of the courtyard it was nestled in.  He swore he could see the underlying currents in the pond, the lilypads being shifted as fish bumped into their undersides.  He could see the ripples when the rain would come that made the varying-colored flowers shift and sway.  
     Feathers littered the floor, some resting on the vegetation or the water's surface.  None existed in the winter.  A single crow, wings torn and scarred, was perched within the field, its wings open to take flight as light from the setting sun glimmered from past its misshapen form.  
     Written across the bottom in large letters was an English phrase, the translation and the author and date at the bottom.  "May you live all the days of your life."
     "There are eleven red lotuses."  She whispers.  He looks down at her, and she was staring up at him with a strange sense of intensity he had never felt from her.  "I don't know why, but I know that number is important.  Red lotuses symbolize love, so maybe that's how long we'll be together.  Maybe it's how long you'll live without me."

     Kageyama smiles for the first time in 8 days.  He was finally calming down from the massive bomb she had dropped on him.  That had been a good practice game with some good sets.
     He jogs over to his stuff during break.  (Y/N) was sitting by his jacket and ring.  She said she didn't want the ring damaged or him hurt, so she asked that he not wear it while playing.  Whenever he was in a game, she wore it on a simple silver necklace.  
     "You alright?"  He asks her softly.  Her face was scrunched together, a hand on her chest and the other reaching over to hold her bicep.  She was leaned back against the wall, and the fact that she wasn't standing was a bit odd.  She said she didn't like the volleyballs coming at her without being able to move out of the way.  
     "Um..."  She murmurs softly.  She honestly wasn't sure.  "I think I need to go to the hospital."  She states.  
     "W-What?"  He stutters, panic washing over his form as he stares at her for a moment.  "Holy shit.  Petal?"  Her face went pale as her eyebrows scrunched more.  It was weird to see her in pain, she usually tried to hide it as much as she could.  
     He sits down next to her, pulling her phone out of her hands to call an ambulance.  The team stares at them for a long while in shocked silence.  
     Daichi quickly takes over, ordering them to get towels and water.  They placed them on her forehead and behind her neck and on her collarbone.  Kageyama encouraged her to drink as much water as she could.  He gripped her loose hand while Hinata held her shoulder.  None of them knew, she'd told none of them, but the fact that Kageyama (Y/N) of all people was showing physical pain, they knew it was bad.  
     The EMTs quickly slid her onto a stretcher and then into the car.  Since they were legally married, they reluctantly let him join the ride.  
     "Pine."  She whispers, fingers moving to brush his hand gripping the railing.  "Take my necklace off."  His lips and fingers tremble as he leans over, unlatching it and pulling it away.  "Put your ring on.  I want to hold you."  He does so.  Her left-hand clutches onto the top of his own and she smiles weakly before wincing when they hit a bump.  

     He watched with horror as they run through the halls to put her into a room.  He followed them, falling into a chair by her bedside as a doctor and two nurses crowded opposite him.  
     He didn't like the beeping.  In fact, he really hated it.  It was so strange, not rhythmic at all, irregular.  As soon as he felt safe from it, it was blaring in his senses all over again.  All those shows and movies had it wrong, hearts weren't perfectly on rhythm.  
     "Please sign this."  A new nurse says.  Kageyama looks up from the clipboard to the man beside him.  
     "What?"
     "Your wife's mother has relinquished power of attorney.  As her husband, it goes to you.  We can't do anything until you sign this agreeing to it."  Kageyama looks down at it, shakily taking the pen from his hand.  As fast as humanly possible, he scribbled a signature on the bottom and handed it back.  
     As he grabbed her hand, it felt strangely cold and rigid.  Shockwaves shot up his arm as if he had forgotten he had one.  Quickly, another document was in his face as the nurse explained that she'd had a heart attack and they needed to get her into surgery immediately if they wanted even a chance of her surviving.  Kageyama agrees instantly and in a flash, she's being wheeled out of the room.  

     He stumbles down into the cafeteria to grab some food for him and for her.  He had no idea what restrictions she would have after surgery, and the chef told him that the hospital always delivered patient's food with proper restrictions up to their rooms.  He only gets Japanese Karē-Raisu and shuffles back up to the room.  
     He couldn't stomach the food, though.  It smelled amazing and he was sure it tasted great, but even the thought of eating food made him gag.  
     Kageyama looks up excitedly as the door to the room opens.  He waits the agonizing second it takes for the stretcher to roll down the tiny hallway.  His grin immediately falls.  She looked no different, maybe a little paler, still stiff as a rock.  He watched as they wheeled her in and planted her just in front of him.  
     A gentle hand landed on his shoulder, a thumb brushing his arm.  
     "I'm sorry."

     The little girl in the room next door picked up her head at the screams.  Bloodcurdling, aching screams.  Pleading, begging screams.  Wails and sobs of someone whose world had just stopped turning, whose galaxy just went blank.  
     "What is that, Grandmama?"  The girl asks, surprised by the tears in her grandmother's eyes.
     "That's what losing love sounds like, dear."  
     "Does it hurt that bad?"  
     "Unfortunately, it does."  

     It was disorientating.  His head was spinning.  He wasn't even aware of the sounds he was making.  He wasn't even aware of the nurses and aides telling him to stop yelling.  
     Her hand had never been this cold before, never this solid and stiff, never this small and frail.  She had never been fragile.  Who was this girl lying before him?  The one with eyebrows sewn together in agony.  
     It was disorientating.  His forehead rested against a cold stomach.  It didn't sink under his weight, and it didn't lift him with her breaths because she had none.  Laying his head on concrete would've given him the same feeling, but this was (Y/N).  This was his flower, his petal, his lotus.  These were his pines, he couldn't live without his pines.  What had happened to her?  What was life without the one thing he was living for?