Haikyuu One Shots

Tsukkiyama: Ruined // angst

"I'm not sick, I'm dying."

That's the last thing you said to me before I couldn't look at you the same. Those five words, they changed my whole perspective. Why?

Because they were true.

You were right. There was no getting better. There was no coming back from this. There wasn't a bright side to look on.

It wasn't getting better, and that's just the way it was, still is.

I still visited you everyday, even though it wasn't the same. We would talk, but neither of us could say much. It's like you weren't completely there, so therefore I wasn't really either. For years you kept me here, in this city, on this planet. You were my anchor. So when you started to drift away, I did, too.

The kisses weren't the same. The 'I love you's we exchanged felt empty. Not in the way that we didn't love each other anymore, I still love you with all my heart. Just that we knew it wouldn't matter. The fact that we loved each other couldn't save you. It couldn't save us.

Nothing could have saved us.

We used to sit in that bland, white room talking about what we would do when you got better. I would talk about how on your first day back the whole house would be decorated with your favorite type of flowers and how once you were strong enough we could travel the world. I would tell you everything that you would know if you were living a normal life. And you would smile and laugh, just like before. But soon our conversations became less hopeful.
You weren't getting better. You were getting worse. And I knew you still wanted to believe that it would all get better. I did, too. I think I was still believing long after you had given up.

Sometimes you wouldn't tell me the things the doctors told you until later. All you really wanted was for me to be happy so you figured that if I didn't know I would be happier. But eventually you would have to tell me and I could see the heartbreak in your eyes when I started talking less, smiling less. I wanted to make it easier for you; I wanted to be able to tell you it was going to be fine. I wanted to tell you about our friends and how they were doing. I wanted to plan my life with you.

But when I looked at your pale face and the machines surrounding you, I couldn't seem to put a convincing smile on my face. And that's what I regret most. Maybe if I just could have been stronger, we would have both been happier. At the end, neither of us could muster anything close to a smile. I couldn't comfort you. I couldn't say anything.

One time, the doctors said you were getting better. They said you could go outside and eat lunch with me. So I took you to a park. Of course there was an ambulance parked ten feet away from us and doctors were constantly watching us, but it was still nice. We sat on a blanket I had laid out and we had our first normal conversation in weeks. You were getting better.

There was still a part of me that said that you weren't, though. I just ignored it. You were laughing and eating and I couldn't have been happier. Your face had color; you looked healthy. We both just forgot about the past couple months. It was almost a normal day.

When it was time to head back, you waved goodbye with a huge smile on your face. And it looked like it was really getting better for a few days. It really did.

I was in your room, sitting on the chair with my head on my arms, resting on your bed. You were telling a story about something trivial that was going on in the hospital. I was happy. You had energy in your voice. The treatment was working. When I needed to go home, I stood up and was about to wave goodbye. Then something happened; I can't quite remember what, though. I remember screaming and doctors flooding the room. I remember two of them pulling me out of the room, tears streaming down my face. I remember crying in the waiting room, hoping to god that you were okay. I remember a doctor coming out and telling me that you had survived, but you weren't doing well. I remember sighing in relief, but a knot was forming in the pit of my stomach. The confirmation that I had been right earlier, that this couldn't last, that we couldn't be happy forever.