The Night We Met (KamiShin)

April 6th

Fear. A feeling of unknown uneasiness. Uncanny discomfort, massaging one's spine as the clock ticks by. Time passes unbearably slow as one's guts clench around themselves, and heat begins to rise. Something so otherworldly yet surprisingly well-known.
Falling.
The sensation of loosing grip of one's feet and letting gravity yank one down into a pit of arms, running themselves all over one's frame. One plummeting even further down that pit until the only thing left is empty space. A vacuum with no laws yet none to break. A place filled with nothing but emptiness. A floaty feeling, allowing one to travel in all four dimensions. Nonetheless at the same time, one is trapped in a steel cage. One with ten-thousand locks and crannies, so big it could never be explored in a million years.
Not like it could ever be toured anyways. Fear doesn't last that long. It's only for a few minutes, a few hours, at most. Besides, the human brain is simply not courageous enough to wander off into the unknown. It's like a pillow, soft and easily ripped open by simply slashing a knife through the frail threads that keep it together.
That's what Hitoshi felt. But it wasn't so much fear as it was dread, which in some cases, was even worse. The bouquet of flowers in his hand– he could feel his energy decaying them with every step he took. His heart sank as he entered the white maze of rooms and agony. People on chairs, all lined up to say their last words to those who they love. A chamber of emotional torture. He'd never felt happy in a hospital. Knowing that someone's life was being ripped away from him as he breathed— it filled him with an uncanny horror.
"Name?"
Hitoshi gripped the flowers tightly. The thorns from the roses pierced the cellophane, clawing their way deep inside his palm.
"Kaminari Denki."
The woman behind the desk typed away at her computer. The clicking of her nails against the keys was the only sound audible, aside from the distant screams of agony coming from the insides of Hitoshi's heart.
"Room 202."
He felt as if he was walking on quicksand. His legs were becoming more and more fatigued with every sluggish movement. He didn't have the energy to do anything. All he wanted was to hear Denki say his name. He longed for his lover's warmth in his arms. He craved the blond's delicate lips.
Luckily, he didn't have to do much waiting. A nurse immediately came to his side and escorted him into the other's room.
"Mr. Kaminari, you have a visitor," the nurse said softly.
As Hitoshi stepped inside, his stomach did multiple flips. He felt like he was about to throw up. Everything lacked life. The atmosphere was a corpse. A leftover of a spirit that was once so full of life and energy. The flame was about to go out.
"T-Toshi?" A weak voice called out.
Hitoshi fought the urge to run to the hospital bed and cry on his partner's lap. He fought the need to crumble to his knees and scream his head off. But he didn't.
He walked calmly to the other's side, tears already streaming from his tired eyes. The door was shut behind them, leaving the two completely alone. Hitoshi pulled a chair up to the hospital bed. He sat down, and very delicately, pulled Denki's hand towards his own face. Hitoshi leaned into the shorter's palm, crossing his eyes as he placed a weak kiss on Denki's thumb.
"I'm here."
Denki's pupils traveled down to the bouquet of flowers his lover was clutching. He pointed at them.
"Hitoshi...."
"These are for you," Hitoshi said, placing the flowers on the other's nightstand.
Denki shook his head.
"No, Hitoshi. Don't bring me gifts anymore. I won't be alive long enough to enjoy—"
"Shut up!"
Denki's body froze as Hitoshi's scream echoed through the whole room. He watched as his lover broke down, unable to look him in the eye. His hair fell over his head, covering his tear-stained face and trembling lips. He'd never seen Hitoshi so defeated and vulnerable before. But in that moment, Denki realized just how much he'd hurt the other.
His existence had disturbed Hitoshi's life. And apparently, it had become Hitoshi's life too. All the time he'd spent believing that he was unlovable... was it really worth it? When clearly, the boy in front of him was head-over-heels in love.
Denki extended his arm, running a hand trough Hitoshi's matted locks of indigo. He lovingly slid his hand down to his lover's neck, caressing it lightly with his fingers. Naturally, Hitoshi perked up, rubbing out the tears his face had collected like a flooded ravine. He sniffled, swallowing back the sob that had been wanting to escape the boy's mouth for so long.
After all, that's what he was. A boy. He always believed he was more than ready to transition into adulthood. He was independent, intelligent, and responsible. All his life, he believed that he'd never depend on anyone or anything. But Denki taught him something. Emotionally, he was far from prepared. He was nothing more than a frail little boy, the same, parentless one he'd been so many years ago.
He noticed the little smile on Denki's face, appearing as his gaze shifted. How could he still be smiling? There was absolutely nothing to smile about!
"You know.... I wouldn't have spent the last few months of my life any other way..."
"Don't say—"
"—let me finish, Hitoshi," Denki said. He looked to his side, at the window. It was raining hard outside.
"If I had a time machine.... if I could go back six months.... I wouldn't dare change a thing. I'd enjoy watching myself falling for you..."
Hitoshi felt as though he'd been struck in the heart. Tears streamed down his tired face, like waterfalls upon a crumbling cliff. His hands shook as snot dripped from his nostrils. To Denki, it looked as though Hitoshi's pretty eyes were melting. Melting like hot glass inside a furnace.
"My days are numbered. And I don't want you to watch me give my last breath. Will you promise me that? Promise me that you won't be there when I leave?" Denki asked as, he too, began sniffling softly.
Hitoshi shook his head violently.
"No— d-don't fucking say that. I can't.... I can't bare to lose you..."
Hitoshi shot up harshly, turning his back to Denki as he wiped his tears. Denki could hear them— the sobs. A sound he never expected to come from Hitoshi. He sounded like a solider— one that had witnessed the death of all his friends. One that had faced death first-hand; a broken man.
All-of-a-suddenly, Hitoshi snapped around, anger coating his face. He clenched his teeth, eyebrows furrowed with pressure.
"I can't lose the thing I live for! Otherwise, there is no fucking purpose! What will I look forward to when you die?" Hitoshi screamed.
Denki's eyes began to water.
"D-don't yell at me... Don't make me cry..." Denki sobbed.
Hitoshi turned to a beeping sound, coming from the heart monitor as it sped up slightly. His expression softened into one of guilt. He massaged his temples.
"I'm sorry."
"I know."

(This one is short. Sorry.)