Perched on the seat that someone had brought to the room weeks ago for him so that he would at least sit comfortably, Shiro’s fingers toy with one another anxiously, steel gaze firm on the healing pod. He’s watching it now the same way he’s been watching it during whatever free time he’s had for something like a month now, though unquestionably with more worry in his brow than there had been weeks ago. He hasn’t seen anyone stay in the pod this long before, and more and more he’s grown concerned that it might never open, that the man inside won’t recover from those horrific injuries he’d gained.
The images of that day still haunt not only his dreams, but even his waking moments. All that blood… The massive gash that slashed across Raiden’s stomach… He still remembers how horribly his hands had been shaking as he carried the other to the castleship, pleading with him in hushed tones to stay awake, to just stay with him—
He only just got his brother back, he can’t lose him, and lose him for real.
Before he can continue to worry himself in the anxious circles he’s been running for weeks, a noise jerks Shiro out of his thoughts. There’s a tick, and as he watches nervously, the healing pod finally hisses open, seemingly in slow motion. Barely even aware of the motion, the Paladin is on his feet in an instant, breath caught in his chest as his eyes remain on the form of his twin brother, watching for a sign of wakefulness.
Call tentative, fists clench so that fingernails can dig into his flesh palm, and Shiro resists the urge to step closer. He wants Raiden to have space when he first comes back to. …Assuming that he does actually wake up.
“Raiden, can you hear me?”
{ That time, however long ago it was, was awful. Agony intense enough to
make him wish he could pass out, but not enough to slip and fall into
unconsciousness as quickly as he’d wanted. He remembers the blood,
remembers the strike ripping through him, remembers someone screaming.
Maybe himself, maybe the others. But he doesn’t regret it. Doesn’t regret
stepping in the way for somebody else.
( did you ever sit back and watch the clouds go
by when you were younger? you don’t remember,
but through your barely open eyes, you looked
past your blurry brother to the white puffs high
above you all. you’d watched for as long as you
could, wishing you had the strength to tell shiro
to look up too, to watch the clouds go by with
you. the sun was so warm on your skin. it almost
felt like home. you remember the way he looked
at you as your strength ebbed away as easily as
your lifeblood, the way he picked up the pace
when your head tilted, leaned against his chest.
and then your eyes closed. )
Perhaps that should have been it. A painful, peaceful end to someone
who didn’t even belong in the story to begin with. But it wasn’t. He got
help just when he hit Too Late’s doorstep, one foot hovering across the
threshold before pulling back.
He slept in that pod, letting himself drift for as long as he needed to.
Sometimes flinched, sometimes twitched, but otherwise still and silent.
And that was okay. Some of the things he dreamed about, he
remembered, but others drifted away like the clouds. He let them go.
He let a lot of things go, choosing instead to just drift. It hurts less that
way. From outside, he looked somber, too old for his age. An awful
downturn of his lips that only those who led unhappy lives possess.
And then one day, he rose from the dark waters of unconsciousness,
his healing pod clicking open, letting him go free. He.. doesn’t move
right away. Doesn’t open his eyes, simply sags slightly under the
gravity of the ship. His name. He can hear his name. Struggled to
remember how to open his eyes but eventually he got it, finding
himself leaning against the inside of the pod and greeted by the
sight of his brother. A slow smile pulled at his lips, amusement
brightening his voice. }
“ Hey.. wasn’t I supposed to be the one
to get grey hair first? ”
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