Reawakening

"Chidori..."

My timorous whisper breaks the silence of the hospital room. I am shaking. I have no idea why I'm doing this. I had only planned to watch you, make sure you were alright. But your eyes were open when I arrived, yet you did not see me. My voice caused you to look up. You have that same blank stare as last time I was here, when it was confirmed that your memories were lost. I shouldn't have come. I shouldn't have disturbed you.

I am frozen in my spot though. Maybe words of recognition will escape your lips.

"Who's there?" Your voice is faint, maybe a little frightened. Now, guilt alone will not permit me to leave. My hand instinctively connects with the back of my head, nervously tracing circles on my buzzed scalp.

"It's...it's me. Junpei," I add, hastily. Would you at least recall me from the other day? The heavy silence which punctuates my introduction fills me with dread and anxiety. Are you wracking your brain to think of the fastest way to call security? Please...don't.

"Junpei," you repeat, separating both syllables carefully. I smile in spite of the nervous sweat accumulating on my palms.

"Yeah!" I purse my lips immediately. Was I too enthusiastic?

"Yeah," I say again, more quietly this time. "Y-You remember me?" I hear the light rustling of the bed sheets as you ease your back against the frame.

"You were with the lovely red headed girl, from the other day. Correct?" I nod.

"Yes," I spit out almost immediately after, in case you couldn't see me. I decide it's safer to come a little closer, and so I gingerly take a few steps towards your bed. Your face is much clearer now; at this angle, the moonlight pools in with perfect precision on your countenance. It's been too long since I could look at your face when it was just the two of us. You sit there as if plucked from a page from my own memory, but you are real and staring back with large, inquisitive hazel eyes. Those are the difference from the Chidori in my memories; your eyes had ceased to be appraising after a while, and you would gaze with the kind of longing that your lips would never admit to. My memory also beholds a Chidori in her telltale white garments, fitted modestly and inciting thoughts of bridal lace and ruffles. Perhaps it was only me that took from your gothic lolita outfit a bridal connotation, as only I have relished in fantasies of you as my poignantly beautiful bride to be. Your sanguine tresses, long and emphatically shining through a gossamer veil, have long been the subject of my dreams. Those dreams were lost when you gave me your life, but upon seeing you before me, even in just a hospital gown, you remain as intact and as beautiful as I remember. Those reveries return and dance around my head, prodding the part of me that excites itself with hope and what-if's.

"What brings you here?" You are quizzical but don't seem negatively affected by my presence. I'm hoping this is an auspicious sign of things to come.

"I...well..." My voice trails off. How do I tell you that I am that kind, warm person in your dream? How can I make you know that it's me who's waiting at the end of the tunnel for you, and that is where I'll forever remain. I decide it's not something I can convey with words. I can only hope it's something that will dawn on you in the passing moments we share together.

"I just felt like I needed to see you. How you were doing...and all." I smile sheepishly. You cock your head to the side, and return my smile with a small one of your own.

"I had a feeling you would be back soon," you reply mirthfully. I feel my cheeks warm up; they are undoubtedly reddening. Am I so obvious?

"Why's that...?"

"I'm not quite sure. I suppose...the look on your face amongst the others...it was different." You are staring at me intently. I can only nod.

"We were good friends then?" you question. If a good friend is someone who kicks the foundations of your world out from underneath your feet, leaving you on your ass and wondering what the hell happened and why you suddenly feel so much more alive...then yes, we were.

"We were close." I think that you have taken note of the ambivalence in my voice, because your eyebrows are raised slightly and your lips have just begun to part, as if you mean to question my tone. We were close, yes, but this is an understatement. I cannot think of what else to say though. To let the truth of our meaning to each other just spill out of my lips would be tactless. Tact was not always my forte, but with you, my mind is more alert to potential wrongdoings.

"That's nice." You say this appreciatively, but it seems to me as though you've just settled on it, for lack of anything better to say. My mind has clammed up in its efforts to think of the right thing to say. The same way a myriad of different colors combined will only form the color black, my mind has gone to this same dark void as a result of all my thoughts. One surviving thought beckons me to speak from my most base desires.

"I wish you remembered me..." An awkward silence is also waiting at the end of this admission, until you finally break it.

“Tell me, Junpei, what did we like to do together?” Your curiosity is encouraging. It makes me feel as though you might recognize your own life behind my eyes.

“We…liked to talk a lot. You loved art, and…you would show it to me. It was beautiful.” I don’t know how to tell you about our superficial rivalry regarding your involvement with Strega, and how you did not fear death, but rather, your attachment to me. I don’t know how to tell you that you that I am the reason you became afraid, and that that fear came from the same root feeling which also caused you to give your life to me. These memories cannot be tangibly described to you, and I’m not sure how much is necessary to tell you. I wish I could know the right thing to say or do. My uncertainty is what makes me rely so heavily on what you will intuitively pick up on; I am too afraid to reveal anything too telling on my own.

“Oh yes… I do like to draw, very much. Junpei, you would not happen to have any of my art, would you? I would like to see something I drew, perhaps…from this lapse in my memory.” I become very aware suddenly of the inside pocket of my jacket. In there, I carried something that I thought was my only remnant of you. It stayed with me for so long that I was barely consciously aware of it anymore. Now you are here in front of me. Maybe this one thing that connected you to me in your death will now connect you to me in life. I reach into my pocket slowly, and pull out a folded piece of paper.

“This is something you drew for me,” I tell you. I hand it to you, and you do not open it right away. Still folded, you stare it for a few seconds, with nervous anticipation.

“I’m a little nervous. I guess we’ll see how well I know myself from my art,” you say, and chuckle softly. You carefully unfold it, delicately smoothing out the crease. A minute passes as you take in the picture. I’m trying to look for a change in your eyes. They widen for a moment when you first see it, and then revert to enigmatic neutrality along with the rest of your face. My knees start to feel a little weak, so I take a seat next to the bed, not taking my eyes off of you.

You let the paper drift slowly out of your hands and onto the sheets below, and look towards me.

“Did I draw anything quite like this for anyone else?” you ask. I shake my head. You give a small nod, glancing back down at the picture.

“I should hope not. I can tell by looking at this Junpei…you meant a lot to me. But I can also tell... I was afraid when I drew this.”

“You were…afraid, back then. But, not now.” It is true. You expressed an uncharacteristic zest for life last time I saw you.

“What was I afraid of, Junpei?”

“You…were afraid of life. Life with attachment. It made you fear death.” I can only hope this conversation doesn’t stray into the realm of specifics.

“Oh…” You are studying me carefully, as if trying to glean some memory by looking at me. I notice your breathing has becoming more distinct.

“Something about you…makes me feel like…I’m asleep again. Or, what felt like sleep anyway. See, almost everything was empty. I could not remember a thing. Except for that one overwhelmingly soothing presence. I…I told you about it…the other day…”

“I remember.” Without thinking about it, I place my hand gently on the bed. Hesitantly, you reach for it, and I envelope your small hand in mind. Your fingers are loosely wrapped around my hand.

“Being with you now…I remember that feeling more than ever. That incredibly warm and tender presence.” It’s almost as if you are afraid to say that you think I am that presence, as though you are afraid of being proven wrong. I tighten my hold on your hand as confirmation of whatever you may be thinking.

You lean upwards and pull the covers off of you, moving towards the edge of the bed so that you are right next to me. Your legs are curled up underneath you, and your hand is still inside of mine. With your other hand, you grab the piece of paper, holding it underneath both of us. I look down at it. It’s been a while since I looked. I would spend hours analyzing every stroke and line that made up my face. The painstaking detail had been apparent, especially in the eyes and lips. Some may see me as goofy, immature, maybe a little naïve. But it was with you that the tender part of me came out, and I knew what it was to care for someone in such a profound sense. It was that caring part of me captured in this portrait. I knew that the only thoughts of the boy in that picture were “I love you”, and I knew that his only intent was to protect you.

“I don’t feel afraid,” you tell me. Your appearance seems to betray this; you are shaking and still breathing heavily. You look down, and your hair falls forward, covering your face.

Look at me, I want to say. Instead, I reach my hand up to your face, tremulously brushing the strands out of your eyes, and then cupping your chin gently, lifting your face up. Last time I touched you, I watched the life fade from your eyes.

“I’m not afraid,” you say again, forcing resolution into your voice. “I’m just…”

“Excited?” I finish for you. We both smile at my simple but effective word choice.

“Something like that,” you respond. My hand drifts from your chin and to your hair, running through it gently. I reach the end and then clasp the hand I am holding with both hands.

“I missed you,” I murmur, averting my gaze slightly. I find it hard to stay looking in your eyes. In my chest is a precarious calmness, threatening to collapse and give way to a complete loss of composure if our contact intensifies anymore.

“I’m not afraid,” you whisper. “I…I am so happy for this life. I can meet you…all over again. Somehow, that makes up for words we shared that I don’t remember. I can start over…happier…better for you.”

I raise your hand to my lips, and plant a gentle kiss on your fingers, still looking into your eyes.

“Better for yourself. Not me. You were always all I wanted…” My voice tapers off, the impact of my small kiss reverberating throughout my body. I close my eyes in an effort to handle this overwhelming sensation internally, and lower my head, resting my forehead on your fingers. I feel your hands slide smoothly from mine and caress the sides of my face softly. The air around me becomes sweeter, and I feel your forehead pressed against mine, our noses lightly grazing. Eyes still closed, I am trembling and my breathing is strained. I am losing the battle against cohesive thought.

“Thank you for keeping me yours.” Your words are barely audible, but they echo in my head for the longest time. Before a response can escape my lips, they are sealed by the softest sensation, pressing into them gently. My eyes flutter open halfway and all I can see are your eyes, serenely shut, and your eyebrows raised ever so slightly. All at once, the most tender and passionate emotions seize me with explosive force. My hands are buried deep in the lush depths of your hair, pulling your face closer to mine while I return the kiss with a deeper certainty. It isn't long before we both break away in unison, our eyes opening to immediately meet each others. We are both wide eyed and dumbfounded. Our hands are still clinging with feverish desperation to the sides of each other's faces.

"Chidori..." I have to give my self a second to regain a solid breath before I continue. "I could never have another."

You collapse onto my chest and into my arms which immediately wrap around you, holding you close to me. Your small fists cling tightly to the fabric of my shirt, and your face is buried in my shoulder.

"Ch-Chidori?" I stammer, slightly alarmed. You look up at me with big eyes, glistening but happy.

"I'm sorry...I'm just so happy. I feel as though I have gotten the second chance that everyone wishes for...I just hope I never lose this feeling, or this moment with you." You sound meek and nervous.

"Don't be scared. You don't have to be anymore. I'll...always be here for you." I ease you back delicately to get a better look at you. I want to see your beautiful face that I've been robbed of for too long. I want this image to linger in my mind for as long as possible. The only thought that resonates inside me while you face me is "I love you". I keep the thought to myself, allowing it the chance to come to blossom after we make up for our lost time. Even though it is clamoring inside me to escape, I let it take the form of an abrupt and short kiss that leaves my lips damp and aching for more.

"Always," I whisper breathlessly into your ear.

We fall asleep in together in the bed with little regard for hospital protocol. Nothing is more important than your small body pressed against mine, your delicate limbs wrapped around my own. Before I succumb to sleep, I tell you I love you, letting the words safely fall on your sleeping ears. And just before my consciousness fades to black, I can swear I hear your faint affirmation.