"Hiro is here."

"Hiro is here."

Tadashi doesn't respond, only looks out the window as wistfully as he's always had. The bed's empty, no longer warm in the late hours of the night. The body that had once laid upon it, gone. Forever. Why can't Baymax see that? Tadashi thinks on recalibrating the software... again.Thinks, but never does even after a year.

"Hiro is here."

Again, silence is the only reply. And maybe he should really fix that flaw, now. But he can't. He won't. He chooses not to for the very namesake of his younger brother is taboo especially around him, because everyone believes he'll break down. He'll shut himself up. And maybe he will. But he still wants to hear 'Hiro', tell him repeatedly that everything will be alright because-

"Tadashi, Hiro is here."

And then there's a shuttering sound, a rise of feedback familiarity and a silent blip. Tadashi turns away from the window with watering eyes, sees the movement of video blurring into focus, and a smile, more like amusement.

"I really don't think hugs would come in handy, big bro. I mean, do nurses typically hug their patients?" Hiro asks in the background, only part of his face visible as he looks on.

"No, but Baymax isn't just some nurse. And what do you mean hugs don't solve anything?" Tadashi spins on the spot and plucks Hiro off the ground into a back-breaking hug, smothering their cheeks against each other.

Hiro squirms, writhing and fighting his way out of his big bro's arms. "Woah! WHAT ARE YOU DO-TADASHIIII! STOP IT!!"

"You had a grumpy face on! It's disappeared! Magic?!" Tadashi laughs, keeping a firm hold on the small body against him.

"Was not! You jerk!" But Hiro's laughing as Tadashi spins them around in and out of the frame until there's a crashing sound and a very audible 'Oomph! OW!' then Baymax zooming in on a piled mess of tools and junk in the corner of the room and his regulated 'Are you two alriight?' amongst heavy set laughter.

Tadashi chokes, dried tears pulling at the cheeks tightly as lips once pursed curve on their own to form a forlorn smile. A hand reaches up, shaking and uneasy. After more than a moment's hesitation, it lands on a zoomed fixture of HIro's face with a soft tp. The white vinyl slightly indents to the weight, and Hiro's open-mouth guffaw with it.

It's cracked, worn, and terribly shaken, but Tadashi's voice is heard even above the choked sobs that's pouring out of him.

"Thank you.. Baymax. I needed... I needed that."