Intertwined • BokuAka •

Chapter 11

Beep.

Beep.

That was the only sound Bokuto heard as he slumped against one of the blue hospital chairs next to Akaashi's bed, eyes closed as if he were asleep. The gray machine beeped softly like a muffled alarm clock.

It has been one and a half days since Akaashi was shot and brought to the hospital, and he was still not awake.

Bokuto had skipped school to stay with him, and would only return home when it was late at night. His parents reluctantly gave him permission to do so, under the condition that he return home safely.

They have changed a lot ever since Akaashi became Bokuto's friend. Bokuto was glad that he could finally have the freedom he wants, hang out with friends and spend more time with his beloved Akaashi. He had foreseen happy days, just playing and messing around, being carefree and not having to worry about anything.

However, he did not expect that one day he would have to go to the hospital, and the reason was to bring a severely injured Akaashi, covered in blood, for emergency attention.

He could still recall the moment when he was about to call the ambulance. His hands were shaking terribly and the screen of his phone was blurred by the tears which fell from his eyes uncontrollably. Akaashi was just laying there, his skin white as paper and cold as ice, his clothes slowly turning red from the blood which pooled beneath him.

The image still haunts him, and it would stay etched in his mind like carved wood.

Bokuto heard the door behind him open and opened his eyes, turning around wearily to see who it was.

Suga entered the room with a plate filled with pancakes in his left hand, his upper right arm covered in white bandage held together by translucent tape. He was wearing a light blue shirt and black denim jeans. He limped slightly as he walked to Bokuto and hooked a blue plastic chair with a foot next to Bokuto, its metal legs squeaking across the floor. Bokuto felt a pang of guilt as he watched Suga settle into the chair with some difficulty.

"Here," Suga said, passing the plate to Bokuto, worry coloring his voice. "You haven't been eating anything. You're going to fall sick if you keep it up."

Bokuto took it slowly and thanked him. He looked at the pancakes, and then back at Suga. "What about you?" He asked hoarsely.

Suga shook his head. "I'm fine. I just ate." His hazel brown eyes regarded Bokuto thoughtfully. "Do you need water? Your throat seems dry." He leaned forward to get ready to stand.

"No it's okay," Bokuto hastily said. He did not want to further trouble Suga, who had helped him a lot and almost risked his life doing so.

"Sure? I don't mind getting it."

"It's alright. I have the maple syrup to... um... lubricate my throat." He gestured at the golden syrup topped on the pancakes awkwardly. "Thanks, though."

"Okay then." Suga sank back into his chair and gazed silently at Akaashi, compassion and anxiety lining his face. Bokuto stared at his pancakes, debating whether he should eat them or not. He felt as if this was wrong. He should not be enjoying food while Akaashi was still unconscious in bed, his life hanging by a thin thread.

The aroma of the pancakes, however, made Bokuto's stomach grumble loudly, and he finally gave in. He stabbed at a pancake with a plastic fork and wolfed it down in three huge bites.

"He's not yet awake, is he?" Suga finally spoke, quietly.

Bokuto had finished his pancakes and got up to dump them in the bin. "No." He returned back to his seat, following Suga's gaze. Akaashi, in light blue hospital clothes with tubes twisting around him like plastic snakes, looked peaceful with his eyes closed and his hands by his sides, the white blanket covering him up to his collarbone. Bokuto felt a hard lump rose in his throat, cutting off his breath. A few minutes of not watching out for him, and he ended up like this.