FLATLINE // kazuscara

4

"Hey," Kazuha greeted bittersweetly as he entered Scaramouche's cubical, leaning against the palely-colored wall. "How are we today?" he smiled, a tint of pity hidden beneath his skin.

"Pretty good," Scaramouche smiled back slightly, his hands rested on his comforter. "though I am getting a headache." he put a hand up to his forehead, shaking his head slightly.

"How long has the headache been present?" Kazuha paced towards Scaramouche, cupping his face in his hands. Scaramouche squirmed a little.

"Ever since this morning. I don't know, I just feel like there's a knife pierced through my head or something." he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the headache would just disperse. After all, a knife in your skull wasn't the best situation you'd want to be in. Feeling Kazuha's hands covering his cheeks, he felt his face grow hot.

"Weird." Kazuha breathed, "Nothing on the medication I prescribed you specifically notated headaches in their side effects." his thumb brushed across Scaramouche's cheek, leaving a trace of lingering heat.

Scaramouche felt his heart jump, he laid his eyes on Kazuha once again.

His headache was worse than ever. The eerie sensation of pulsation in his head, the striking pain piercing through his skull, it all combined together. Like they were cutting and popping his skull open.

He felt his heart race. He didn't know if it was one of the side effects of the tablets or himself, but it was speeding up. And fast. The longer he stuck his eyes onto Kazuha, the more his head ached. The more his heart raced.

He peered over towards the heart monitor, connected directly to his heart. Sure enough, it was speeding up. Numbers increased as his face grew hotter; praying inside for his heart to just slow down.

He wanted his heart to stop beating. Maybe that way they won't slam their own muscles into the shard. He wanted his head to stop hurting, maybe that way, he'll keep himself from inching towards Kazuha.

Maybe that way, he would've never asked him the question.

"Kazuha..." he breathed, "Will I die?"

The other bit his bottom lip. His eyes started darting around the room, but never once laid themselves onto Scaramouche. It evoked uncertainty, it evoked guilt.

"No," he blurted out, his eyes widening immediately at his selfish response. But he decided to play along anyway. This was the best response to give to a patient, anyway. To give them fake hope, to give them trust, to give them security; even when the security isn't there.

"You won't die. That's what the hospital is for." he nodded weakly, "You can entrust your life in our hands." his hand slid to the back of Scaramouche's head, ruffling his hair lovingly. Like a mother, comforting her child after a bad nightmare.

Scaramouche felt his breath hitch, his lungs suddenly feeling like a burden for him. Every breath he took was like lifting tremendous weight, making him wonder how it'd feel if he'd just stopped breathing.

"If you can assure me that," Scaramouche whispered, "can you hug me?" putting his hands out, inviting Kazuha.

Kazuha hesitated a little. Part of him wanted to hug Scaramouche, tell him a million times he will survive. But another part of him fought its way up, telling him to speak to Scaramouche of the truth. His inner self fought viciously against both.

He lifted his head, in search of something to ease his indecisive mind. Scaramouche came into his vision.

He looked tired. Like someone who hasn't been getting enough sleep since a week ago. The circles under his eyes grey, his gaze half-lidded. Under all that tiredness that coated him, there was something in his eyes. Fear that he'd never survive, fear that he'd never be able to do what he wanted to do.