Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Rubber squeaked against linoleum. The line was steady in its rising and falling, as it had been for the past hour. And the hour before that.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
His leg swung back and forth, rhythmically, like a pendulum. Nothing else. Everything else was as still as death. And if it weren't for the incessant beeping and the faint whir of all the machines, it would be just like a visitation. He tried not to think about that, though.
Beep.
Beep.
Because this was a hospital, not a funeral home. It was a hospital bed, not a coffin. But it could have very well been a coffin in a funeral home. That fact was definitely not lost on him. The fear that they could still end up there continued to linger at the edges of his mind, even though the doctors were confident that he would pull through.
Beep.
Beep.
But looking at him, Hiro wouldn't think so.
Tadashi looked like death.
His unburned skin (or the patches visible under the mess of bandages) was a shade of pale that made Hiro feel nauseous. The entire left side of his face was covered in sterile fabric, but it was safe to say that his pallor was far too gray to be anywhere near healthy. Nothing about him looked healthy. There seemed to be tubes all over the place—some finding connection with Tadashi by disappearing into the swaths of bandages on his arms and another, larger, snaking down his throat. Hiro had visibly cringed when he first saw that one. They were there to help him do simple, fundamental things, like breathe and eat. The bandages were everywhere, too. Wrapped around his head, his face, his neck, his chest, his arms and who knew where else. They did a good job of hiding the burns, at least. The actual sight of inflamed, wounded flesh would only be another blow that Hiro did not need.
Tadashi looked so small and helpless lying there. More helpless than Hiro ever thought possible. The white sheets seemed to swallow him. The doctor said he was in a coma due to smoke inhalation or the trauma to his spine or maybe something else entirely. Hiro had lost track and all the medical jargon he'd heard in the past week had become one big tangle in his head. He hadn't exactly been paying attention. All he knew was that there were a lot of things wrong with Tadashi.
Hiro was scared to touch him for fear that he would break.
He wasn't supposed to look this way. He wasn't supposed to look so weak and vulnerable. Hiro had never, ever imagined he'd see a day when his big brother would need help simply to breathe. When he was younger, in the days following the accident that killed their parents, he used to have nightmares about losing Tadashi too. He'd wake up in the dead of night sobbing so hard he'd give himself hiccups, and Tadashi would let him climb into his bed and spend the rest of the night right next to him so Hiro could feel his warmth and hear his breathing. But he never considered what it would be like if Tadashi was reduced to a state like this.
Was he really so fragile?
He'd always been so strong—invincible in Hiro's eyes. Almost like a superhero.
How stupid.
Tadashi was human just like everyone else, and it was stupid of Hiro to ever get the notion that nothing would ever happen to him. Even if he was the foundation of Hiro's entire life.
That would explain why seeing him this way hurt so much. Tadashi meant security and safety and assurance. He meant everything was okay, and if it wasn't, that it would be soon. He fixed everything. Always had, for as long as Hiro could remember. He'd always been there to bandage scraped knees and wipe runny noses and rescue him from binds and make everything better. But now that assuredness had been shaken and fractured, burned up in the fire along with Tadashi. For the first time in a long time, Hiro felt unsteady and scared and lost. It took a lot for his confidence to waver and, right now, he searched and found he had none at all.
Now, he watched his brother's chest rise and fall in a steady, mechanical rhythm as the machine delivered the oxygen he could not breathe sufficiently on his own. He was alive, but not by his own strength. The thought sickened Hiro.
His eyes once again wandered to the little screen nestled among a thousand wires and tubes that showed Tadashi's heartbeat. Just a little digital line on a monitor that spiked up in even increments to show that his heart was still beating.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
The sound was reassuring and infuriating all at the same time. It was a constant every time Hiro visited. He visited a lot. Every single day, for hours on end or until they kicked him out. He'd spent the first couple of nights after Tadashi's admission in the hospital room, bedding up in his sleeping bag on the hard cushions that passed for a sofa, convinced that his brother would wake up the next day. When he didn't, Cass practically dragged Hiro home to get proper rest. But he always headed out around lunchtime to sit with his brother in hopes that, maybe, he would wake up and Hiro's face would be the first he saw. But it was coming up on a week since the fire, and he was still as unresponsive as he'd been since the first night.
Hiro once asked the doctor when he would wake up, but all he received in reply was a tight smile and the words, "It could be any day now," accompanied by a condescending pat on the shoulder. The doctors and nurses treated Hiro like a little naïve child who needed to be protected from potentially upsetting information, and he hated it. He hated the way the nurses would plaster on sweet smiles and speak to him in sugary tones, the kind people normally used with toddlers. He hated that he felt anchored to the stupid place, almost physically incapable of leaving his brother's side. But most of all, he hated the uncertainty. Because he wasn't some naïve child, and he could decipher the doubts about Tadashi's condition easily enough, no matter how much they might be trying to shield from him, or how much they assured both him and Cass that his life was no longer in imminent danger.
While the rational part of him knew that was true, that the doctors didn't lie to people just to protect their emotional states, there still remained the possibility that Tadashi wouldn't wake up. No one had mentioned it, of course, since everyone seemed optimistic, so it was only a suspicion festering inside Hiro's own mind. But it was a thriving suspicion, and every second that passed with Tadashi's eyes remaining closed and unresponsive strengthened it.
Nothing the doctors said could put him at ease. Maybe his worst fears were running away with his thoughts, but he knew with certainty that he wouldn't—couldn't—start to feel better until Tadashi told him with his own mouth that he was okay.
So until then, he sat and stared at the invalid form that was his brother and pleaded silently with everything he had for his fears to finally be put to rest.
Wasabi, Honey, GoGo, and Fred came by often and Hiro was grateful for that. Their visits had been somber occasions at the beginning, but as the days passed and hanging out in a room with a comatose friend became a tiny bit more normal (or, at the very least, less jarring), everyone seemed to loosen up a little. They'd talk about upcoming classes and tell Hiro how much he fun he would have, even though the mere thought of going to school while Tadashi was in the hospital kind of made him want to puke. They would share food and project ideas and chat and laugh like everything was peachy. Hiro never really laughed. He'd pretend to, but no matter how hard he tried, he was never able to put his heart into it. How could he, when his brother was right in front of him being fed oxygen and nutrients necessary for his survival through tubes? Something about that didn't seem right.
He guessed that Tadashi's friends felt the same way deep down. Occasionally Hiro would catch one of them glancing at the injured boy with a look of unease and deep-seated worry and his fingers would curl stiffly into his palms. Sometimes they would invite him to join them for lunch out or some other activity in hopes of luring him from the white walls—they seemed convinced it would cheer him up to see color and be surrounded by lively people—but he always refused. Somehow it seemed like his duty to stay diligently positioned at Tadashi's bedside, like some sort of sentinel. The thought of leaving him alone was nearly unbearable.
The room was saturated with a heavy silence now, only perpetuated by the beeping and whirring of machines. Hiro scuffed the bottom of his shoe on the floor repeatedly, watching like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever discovered he could do. Because he couldn't look directly at Tadashi anymore.
The first time he'd been allowed into the room, he couldn't tear his eyes from his brother. He was trapped in some sort of daze, horror holding his gaze captive even when he wanted nothing more than to look away. He hadn't expected anything less awful, of course. He'd spent the better part of the day coaching up his nerves in preparation for what he knew he would see, for everything he'd been warned about.
But there was a difference between descriptions to create mental images and actually seeing it with your own eyes. Seeing involved tangibility and reality being driven home in the harshest way, like a blow to the gut. And the grotesque sight that awaited him in the hospital bed certainly left him breathless. It didn't take long for him to decide that he'd seen enough, and now he couldn't look at Tadashi for more than a few seconds at a time.
The words "lucky" and "miracle" had been floating around, tucked into conversations Cass had over the phone or murmurs passed between nurses and doctors. Hiro wasn't sure whether or not to associate them with the broken form in the bed. When he braved another glance and that irritating band around his chest tightened painfully again, he really didn't think that describing his brother as "lucky" was appropriate at all. It was a miracle that he was still alive…and, Hiro would undoubtedly rather Tadashi be in this awful state but still there with him than the other unfathomable outcome…but at the same time, the cost of his survival was so enormous that Hiro couldn't bring himself to call it lucky.
Hiro had purposefully not been thinking about the news he and Cass had received the night Tadashi had been admitted. But at times like these, when he was alone with his big brother in the hospital room and had nothing but his thoughts to occupy the time, it was difficult to keep it from replaying in his mind.
And after all this time, he still couldn't wrap his head around it. Couldn't grasp that his brother might never do karate or throw him over his shoulder or stand ever again. That was impossible. There was no way Tadashi could just…be broken like that. Even when he looked so god-awful and half dead…
Hiro's fists clenched around the edge of his seat. No. Tadashi was strong. He would overcome this, just as he always overcame everything.
Like that time when he was fifteen and Hiro was ten, and they'd been riding a bike together outside the café. Tadashi let Hiro pedal while he hung on behind, and since the weather was hot they had both neglected to put on shoes. Hiro had been pedaling furiously down the sidewalk, intent on picking up enough speed to clear an upcoming hill, when Tadashi suddenly let out a bizarre, half-choked yell and jerked Hiro's shoulders violently, effectively throwing their balance off and sending them both skidding across the pavement. Somehow, his older brother had managed to get his big toe caught in the wheel's spokes, which resulted a gash that almost reached bone. There was blood everywhere, and Hiro had been convinced that Tadashi was going to die. But the older boy had picked himself up off the ground and, with Hiro's help, limped back to the café while keeping a smile on his face the entire time, the only sign of pain being his labored breathing and ginger footing.
It was then that Hiro became sure that Tadashi was invincible. After the incident, he'd kept on asking if the injury hurt, and his brother always answered by saying, "Nah, it's just a scratch. I'm just glad it was me and not you."
It was like that every time Tadashi was inured. Even when he was bleeding out on a sidewalk, he seemed so unaffected. Like it only took a pinch of willpower to swallow his pain and smile instead to put everyone's minds at ease. And after fourteen years of watching Tadashi stay calm and relaxed through illnesses and broken bones and a thousand other injuries resulting from robotics experiments, how could Hiro not come to the conclusion that his big brother was somehow invincible?
So now he clung to a scrap of hope that Tadashi's resilience wouldn't fail in this situation either. Once he woke up and was on the mend, everything would be right again. And maybe…maybe the doctor would be proven wrong.
Hiro hadn't mentioned a word about it to his friends, so unless Cass had mentioned it at some point when he wasn't around, they had no idea of Tadashi's paralysis.
His aunt was stressing like there was no tomorrow. She tried to hide it, but Hiro knew. She was on the phone constantly, always rifling through papers and scrolling through websites in her free time.
A few days ago when she was busy in the café, he'd snuck onto her computer to look at the web history and found searches on paraplegia and wheelchairs. Up until that point, he'd done a pretty good job of pretending Tadashi's diagnosis was a nightmare his own mind had conjured out of fear. But seeing the words Cass had typed out on the screen made something tight and cold close around his throat, and he felt the fragile wall he'd so carefully built up to protect his sanity begin to crumble away. He'd only spoken to his aunt out of pure necessity for the rest of the night.
A sudden vibration from his pocket was a welcomed distraction from the depressing thoughts swirling in his head. Unsurprisingly, it was a text from Cass telling him to head home for dinner. And as usual, Hiro felt a tug in his chest at the thought of leaving Tadashi conflicting with the urge to jump up and get out of the hospital as soon as possible.
With a weary sigh, he slowly raised his eyes to his brother's sleeping face and leaned forward. For a few seconds he chewed on his lip, trying to summon the words he wanted to say. It seemed stupid to talk to Tadashi aloud when he obviously couldn't hear him, but at the same time that was exactly why Hiro needed to speak.
"Night, Dashi," he finally muttered quietly, switching back to his brother's childhood nickname almost without thinking. "I'll be back tomorrow. Um…" He kicked his feet back and forth uncomfortably. "I…I miss you. Everyone does. So you should probably wake up soon because sitting here kinda sucks when you can't even have a conversation. And Honey Lemon's threatening to start painting your nails soon out of boredom. Not that I'd let her do that, of course." He rubbed the back of his neck and swallowed thickly. "And Aunt Cass has been crying a lot at night after I go to bed. She thinks I don't know, but I, um…haven't been sleeping that well. So, yeah, you should probably wake soon. You're always telling me not to make Aunt Cass worry and you need to take your own advice for a change."
His throat felt tight again as he stood and pushed the chair back against the wall. Then he shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled for the door. Before he passed through the frame, however, he forced himself to slow and crane his neck to look at his brother one last time.
"I love you," he murmured, barely above a whisper. "Please be okay."
Dinner passed in the same way it had for the past few days. Minimal conversation, forced smiles, Cass trying to lighten the mood and failing miserably when Hiro's only response was to prop his head on his fist and push food around his plate with his fork. He was halfway through a pile of green beans when the usual questions started.
"How did he look today? Any better?"
Hiro kept his eyes on his plate and shrugged. "'Bout the same."
From the corner of his eye, he could see Cass deflate a little bit. "Did they say anything about him waking up soon? Or taking him off the respirator?"
"No."
They both knew if that had happened, Cass would probably know about it before Hiro. But her optimism never ran out, it seemed.
"I'm sorry I couldn't make it out there today," she said, looking genuinely rueful as she cut off another piece of chicken. "It's been pretty busy."
Hiro brought his cup to his mouth and took a sip of water as an excuse not to answer. A weight suddenly settled at the bottom of his gut. He knew it killed her to be away from the hospital so much, but they'd come to a silent understanding that she couldn't afford to keep it closed like she had for the first few days after the fire. Hospital bills were beginning to pile up, and they were both acutely and painfully aware that Tadashi was in for a long stay. And on top of everything that entailed, there would undoubtedly be therapy–physical for certain, and possibly even psychiatric–involved in his recovery. Then there was the medicine and equipment he would require, and Hiro had already eavesdropped on a heated conversation Cass had with the insurance company.
Their family wasn't exactly bad off, but Hiro was well aware of the financial strain this would put on Cass. She didn't ever talk to him about money, but he wasn't stupid. The heavy feeling that settled in his stomach whenever he thought about it nowadays was a new sensation. He'd never really given their financial state much thought before that week. He had food and clothes and tools for his work, so what else was there to think about? Money had always been something for Tadashi and Cass to handle. But now he was beginning to realize just how hefty a burden his aunt shouldered by herself.
If Tadashi was awake, he'd probably tell Hiro to stop wasting time in a hospital room and help her out with the cafe. Every day the voice in his head–which he guessed was his conscience, and sounded suspiciously like his brother–got louder and louder, telling him to make himself useful and ease the strain Cass was under. He'd resolved himself to deciding that if another day passed and Tadashi still hadn't improved, he would start helping out at the Lucky Cat.
The thought made him feel kind of sick.
He helped Cass clear the table and wash the dishes after dinner, a chore usually taken up by Tadashi. With only two sets of dinnerware, it didn't take long at all.
"Wanna watch a movie, Hiro?" Cass asked as she wiped her hands on a dish towel and tossed it back on the counter.
She'd asked that question a lot this week. He gave her the usual answer of, "No thanks. I'm pretty tired."
Her cheek puckered where she bit the inside of it, a little crease appearing between her eyebrows. "Oh...okay. Well, maybe tomorrow night."
"Yeah. Um, goodnight, Aunt Cass."
He took a step in the direction of the stairs, but was stopped when her arms abruptly circled around his narrow shoulders and squeezed tightly. "Goodnight, sweetie. I love you so, so much."
Hiro surprised himself by allowing a little smile to curve his lips. And, after a few seconds, he hugged her back. "I love you too."
He climbed the stairs and prepared for bed with sluggish feet and a leaden heart, and returning to an empty room did nothing to lift his spirits. It wasn't something he'd ever considered before the accident–going to bed without Tadashi there. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened. The crippling loneliness that seized him on the first night kept him awake well into early morning. The second night, he'd brought Mochi to bed with him and hugged the poor cat to his chest like a stuffed animal. It didn't help as much as he'd hoped, especially since Mochi decided after ten minutes that he didn't like being held for so long. The cat had never been too fond of Hiro, anyway.
The previous three nights had been spent lying awake, staring at the ceiling, and warring with his guilt. The fights got uglier every time, and that night was no different. Hiro was stretched out spread-eagle on top of his blankets. As usual, the silence was deep and vast utterly unbearable without Tadashi's steady breathing to fill it. So the voice certainly didn't fail to do it instead.
You're so selfish, Hiro. It was the exact same thing, every night.
No, I'm not. Tadashi needs me. He retaliated with the exact same excuse.
He's in a coma. He doesn't need you.
But...he might wake up. He'll need me then.
But Cass needs you now, and you run off every day. You leave her all alone to work by herself.
She's okay with it. She knows I need to be with Tadashi.
She's supporting the three of you on her own. She feeds you, clothes you, raises you, and what do you do in return?
I'm just being a good brother…
And a bad nephew. Did you even notice the disappointment in her face when you brushed her off again?
No, if she was disappointed, she...she would've said something…
She's too nice to say something. She must be exhausted and yet she's still reaching out to you, even when you're not doing anything to help her. You're so selfish. You're no good to anyone.
When the argument reached that point, he usually turned over to bury his face in the mattress and pull the pillow over his head. His hands fisted around the sheets.
"I have to do something," he whispered, voice thick and dulled by the bedclothes.
He couldn't stop Tadashi from running into the fire, and he hadn't been doing his part to make the situation any better. He'd given Aunt Cass the cold shoulder again and again, even when he didn't really have a good reason to.
Tadashi would be so disappointed.
That thought was like a kick in the gut. Before he knew it, Hiro was propelling himself off the bed and his bare feet were slapping against the hardwood as hemade for the stairs. It was only 12:15. Maybe she hadn't gone to bed yet.
When he reached the top of the stairs, a soft yellow glow on the wall confirmed it. He eased himself down the steps with one hand on the railing.
And then he froze.
Because he could hear quiet, gentle sobbing wafting up from the kitchen.
It definitely wasn't the first time this scenario had played out, but Hiro's heart broke all over again. He hated listening to Cass cry. Tadashi was the same way. Something about it just struck him as cruel and unjust, like the thought of leaving a kitten out in the rain. This time, though, it was multiplied tenfold by the cold ball of guilt sitting heavy in Hiro's stomach. It had become something nearly palpable and he didn't know how much longer he could stand it.
His sweaty fingers curled on the railing and he sunk onto the steps, feeling the pressure of tears building behind his own eyes.
She's crying because of you, the voice accused loudly. No half-hearted apology can fix this. You really screwed up, bonehead.
Whew, sorry this took so long. Got caught up in the holidays.
So, I have a couple things I need to say about this fic. The most important is that I am writing this story mostly for self-indulgence, and sharing it because people seemed to like the AU. I'll be the first to admit that I'm embarrassingly clueless about the medical field (or most of it). One reason this chapter took longer was because I had to do a lot of research. That being said, I KNOW there are going to be parts to this story that are inaccurate. Because, frankly, I can't dedicate the amount of time and research needed to make sure everything is factual. I'll do my best to make it realistic, but please please don't expect everything to be spot on. I can tell you right now that it won't be (but rest assured I'm definitely not going to slack off and start making stuff up).
If I make any glaring errors and you want to point them out, go ahead. But I just want to put out a disclaimer that I am by no means well educated in the medical field. If this was some original story I was publishing for monetary gain, I would most certainly put in the effort to make it as accurate as possible. But it is only a fanfic, and BH6 and its characters belong to Disney. I gain nothing from this but writing experience and emotional turmoil. And, like I said, this story is almost entirely for self-indulgence, because I love me some good hurt/comfort.
I'd like to give a HUGE shoutout to amandabeep/murphystarr on Tumblr and their mom for helping me out with a lot of medical stuff for the story. Seriously, I don't know what I'd have done without you, so thanks again so much 3
And thank all of you for reading! I feel like I vomited up this chapter so I hope it doesn't suck too much.