Chapter Text
Yagami's been pretty much comatose for six days: six days since they had to carry him out of the ADDC. It's been five days since he got out of surgery, five days since they put him on transfusion, and three days since they let anyone see him. Kaito was in and out on the first day, but he's been stationed at Yagami's bedside at almost all hours for the last two.
Kaito stares at his phone and doesn't really think about anything, idly scrolling through Chatter. Yagami breathes in long, even draws, in and out, deep and slow. Kaito's focus slowly begins to drift towards Yagami's face. He's never seen him so peaceful - though it'd be a more comforting sight if there weren't six staples trailing up his forehead, the sight of which reminds Kaito of the five more in the back of his skull.
He sighs, putting his phone away and resting his crossed arms on the plastic railing of the bed, his chin resting on his arms.
Kaito misses Yagami's long hair, which had to be shaved down to stubble when they put the staples in. He misses his voice, his weird smile, and the way his lips curl around a cigarette. He misses the way he always smelled like smoke but in a good way, better than Kaito ever did. He misses that smell on Yagami's leather jacket, with the cheap, off brand cologne that he somehow managed to make smell like heaven. God, he misses that jacket, too. Kaito internally curses the clean, sterile stink of the hospital room, and the pale blue button up, the uniform of a patient.
These things are all connected, he realizes, after a long bout of staring in silence at Yagami, deep in thought. It's like he's a teenager again, shooting glances across the bar at Tender that are all too obvious but not stopping anytime soon, because no one had ever said anything, and they wouldn't ever say anything. Maybe that's when it all started.
He misses Yagami. Even now, when he's right here beside him, he's not really there. The man lying in the hospital bed doesn't really seem to be the man who's been his closest friend for some odd fifteen years, even if they have the same name and the same face.
"Hey, Kaito - san." The door opens, and Kaito immediately stops thinking about sappy shit, as if whoever's just come in can somehow read his mind.
"Sugiura." Sugiura gives him a smile as he stands in the doorway, wearing a loose, long sleeved shirt and worn grey sweatpants, clutching a pillow against his stomach. Kaito motions towards it, "The hell's that for?"
"Doctor says I've gotta press it on when I move around." He says, as he drags the other chair in the room over beside Kaito's. He slowly, gently sets himself down in it. "How've you been? Higashi says you've been cooped up here the past couple days."
"M'fine." He shrugs, and he only half means it. He knows Yagami's going to pull through, but the thought of waiting another week for him to wake up makes him feel sick. "What about you? How're things on your end?"
"Okubo's gonna get released soon, within the month or so. Paperwork's just gotta get processed." Sugiura plays with his hands in his lap, the pillow now resigned to the floor. Kaito leans back in his chair and runs his tongue along his teeth, itching for a smoke. "Been visiting him ever since they let me walk around. He's doing alright."
"That's good." Yagami's chest continues slowly rising and falling, each breath a new peak and valley. "Ta - bo'll be happy to hear it."
"Yeah," Sugiura sighs. They sit there in silence, and the air grows heavier and heavier with each empty second. He starts again, voice barely above a whisper, "How is he? They... they say anything?"
"Haven't told me much, but," Kaito takes a long, deep breath, just a little off beat from Yagami's. "They said he's just sleeping it off right now. He needs the rest."
"It was pretty bad. He, uh," Sugiura quietly, shakily manages the words. His hand hovers above his stomach, tracing the edge of what Kaito assumes is his wound. "He fell three stories and onto a moving car. And got into multiple fist fights after that."
"He's tough." Kaito says, which isn't actually as encouraging as it sounded in his head. He's really got to work on that. "We just gotta wait it out."
"Yeah... Yeah, I know, it's just," He reaches for the pillow and wedges it between his stomach and his thigh. "I don't want it all to go to waste. If everything's over and he's not here, then..."
"I get it." Kaito's throat suddenly feels very, very dry. He nods, swallowing roughly, putting a hand to his neck. "He deserves to see what he did for everyone, yeah?"
"I just want it to be worth it." Sugiura says, both to make himself clear and to show his agreement. He balls the case of the pillow up in his fist, straining the pale, brown fabric. He takes a shaky breath, stops short like he's about to say something, then still waits a little longer to speak. "...I'm scared, I guess. Funny, I'll be just fine - but here I am, scared shitless."
"Think I'm just as scared as you are, man," Kaito chuckles, mirthless. He can feel Sugiura's eyes on him, but all he can do is stare at Yagami. He breathes in slow and deep, subconsciously matching Yagami's tempo. The silence lays in wait, ready to be broken. He starts, after a long while, "I want it to be worth it, too."
Sugiura leaves an hour after he'd arrived, because it's already pretty late and he needs the sleep just as much as Yagami does. Five hours after Sugiura's left, Kaito falls asleep himself, leaning against the railing of the bed. He nods off around two in the morning to the sound of quiet, level breathing.
Yagami's been sleeping for seven days, now: he breathes in long, even draws, in and out, deep and slow.