Little Miss Aizawa | Dadzawa [BOOK 2]

Chapter 25 - Broken Happily Ever After

WARNINGS: broken bones/fractures, internal injury

It felt like there was a weight sitting on his chest, crushing his lungs, making every breath turmoil. His throat burned, and his jaw ached when he tried to move it. 

But that wasn't even a touch on the rest of him 

He ached from his toenails right to the skin of his scalp.

To put it simpler: he felt like shit. 

A groan escaped his chapped lips. This seemed to elicit a reaction from whoever the hell was around him, if the scurry of footsteps and curt shout of nurse was anything to go by. His brain still felt foggy, and through the haze he briefly wondered if he was dead. 

Then something bitterly cold was slapped across his forehead, and he tried to bolt up. 

Nope. Definitely not dead. 

"Hey, stop, you need to rest." A hand pushed against his shoulder, pinning him to the bed. Panic spiked inside his aching chest, and he began struggling even more. At least they had the curtesy to remove the thing from his face.  

"Shota, please." A hand wrapped around his. "Love, you need to relax." 

He fell limp against the cushions surrounding him. Something in that voice put him at ease, like they'd come and personally removed every trace of anxiety from his overwhelmed mind. He could feel himself drifting back off to sleep, lulled by the steady beeping of machines either side of him. The scent of pungent cleaning products and rubber gloves clung to the air, like a sickening cloud lingering just above his head. 

Against every pull to fall back unconscious and hide from the dull hurt wracking his body, he pried his eyes open. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, adjusting to the glare of the overhead lights. They were white, pristine, and painfully artificial. They were nothing compared to the warmth of the sun. He had the sudden desire to go outside. 

"Shota?" That comforting voice said again, the grip on his hand tightening. His head lolled to the side, hair tumbling into his eyes. A careful finger grazed his cheekbone, brushing the unruly locks to the side. He blinked again, the world slowly starting to fade back into focus. 

"Does he need anything?" This voice was distant, growing closer. This time, it was his hand that tightened.

"He's still coming round." The softer one said. 

His eyes fluttered open again. He was met with both a comforting smile and a face pinched in concern looming over him. It took a moment, but when reality caught up with him, recognition alighted behind his eyes, and his own smile teased his lips. 

"'Zashi." God, his throat burned. He cringed in the discomfort speaking had brought around, falling silent again. 

"Hey." Hizashi leaned closer, bringing Shota's hand up to his lips and kissing along his knuckles. "Hey, I'm here."

Behind, Neito continued to linger. "You look like shit."

"Language."

Shota huffed, small smile stretching into a grin that made his lips crack and sting. "Child." His eyes flicked up to the young blond, something warm settling in his chest.

Neito returned the smile. "Father."

The door to the hospital room slowly creaked open, five heads popping inside. Hizashi turned to look, gesturing them to come inside. Hitoshi and Hanta made straight for Shota, playfully shoving against each other and colliding with Neito when they reached the bedside.