Doubt

11.

Madara:

It was all a mind-numbing haze.

I slept most of the time.

And when I was awake, my broken mind wasn't strong enough to make any memories of it.

I remembered fragments.

Someone holding my hand.

That familiar sensation that used to hold so much comfort, so much trust.

Now causing me to panic.

I remember screaming, forcing my hand away, a nurse running in asking "What's happening? What's happening?", me dry-retching, his familiar voice unfamiliarily apologetic, going "Sorry! Sorry!"

"It's clear he doesn't want you here. Please leave."

And he left.

And I healed.

Hashirama:

I was now alone.

But it was completely different from the loneliness I felt before.

That one had been empowering, full of new experiences, of personal development.

That loneliness was chosen by me, and it wasn't so lonely at all, but filled with the presence of him, that had now been replaced by the absence of him.

In the hospital, he slept uneasily, drenched in sweat, moaning in his sleep, not waking up due to the strong tranquillisers he was on. Over and over again, when I was holding his hand, I was reminded of that surging sensation in my stomach, as if a stone had been dropped into it creating a whirlpool, that I experienced when the door of Katie's bedroom opened and Madara caught me red-handed. Retrospectively, I had no idea what I had been thinking. None at all.

But that was nothing compared to the pain I felt when Madara woke up to find me next to him and started screaming at me to leave, clawing at his face, so much panic in his eyes it was enough for several lifetimes.

I returned home, that was still filled with the presence of him. I returned to university, that was still filled with the disgust my former friends felt towards me.

I hated myself, and I hated myself deeply.

Then it came, two weeks after everything happened. I opened my front door and walked in to my hallway, and something crunched underneath my polished black shoe.

I looked down, and it was my spare keys.

My spare keys that I had given to Madara that he had thrown in through the letter box.

In full frenzy, I ran through my apartment, opening cabinets and drawers, only to see that everything that was Madara was well and truly gone. I even went through the laundry even though Madara always did his laundry at his place, being too polite to do it here before having officially moved in.

Then it dawned on me.

The sweater.

A grey melange sweater that belonged to me but hat Madara always wore when he was here.

I went to my closet and found it there, neatly hung up. With trembling hands, I pulled it off the hanger and brought it to my face. I felt the familiar smell of his soap and cologne and skin. I felt my face crumble up, and my eyes burn behind my eyelids. The tears started falling as I closed my eyes, breathing his scent in.

I fell to my knees and wept.