Born To Die (Muichiro x OC)

01 • Forget Me Not

Forget-me-nots. That's what he reminded her of.

The name was fitting, too. It was virtually impossible to forget someone as peculiar as him. His effortless first-impression of perfection, the way his luxurious hair flew freely behind him, and the way his eyes focused on anything and anyone who spoke to him. He was the epitome of beauty and perfection.

His presence was ethereal.

Kurumi has always watched him from her corner of the hospital room. He caught her gaze almost instantly, but they never spoke. They shared a few glances, sure, but that was where he seemed to draw the line. He was cautious. Careful. His guard was clearly not easily lowered. He was an enigma just begging to be learned about. It drew her to him like magnet did iron.

All of her life, the only memories Kurumi made was within the four walls of her hospital room. She was never allowed to leave, and when she could, it was only down the hall to the larger room that held a few chairs. That was where all the sick kids would join up to get their shots and medicine.

The disease they suffered from, ceptophrenia, was incurable. All the medicine they took was merely to prolong their deaths. They all knew that all too well. That was the first thing Kurumi learned growing up.

Humans were born to die.

It was as simple as that. Yet the thought still bothered her. If she was going to die anyway, why make her life just lying in a hospital bed last longer? It wasn't like anything was going to come of it. In fact, it brought more harm than good. Her two older brothers, Asahi and Makoto, were forced to work two jobs each just to pay off her hospital bills. Ever since their mother passed away and their father left, it's only been Kurumi, her brothers, and her younger sister, Keiko. 

She didn't want to be a burden, but no matter what, her siblings refused to give up on her. Many scientists have been looking for a cure for two centuries now. Ceptophrenia was a tricky one—not something that could easily be juggled among other research. Finding a cure for it had been abandoned countless of times now, and Kurumi gave up on that possibility as well. She happily opened her arms to welcome a dear old friend, death.

The concept wasn't as scary to her now that she  got accustomed to it.

It being scary wasn't the problem, though. The issue on the table was that, as Kurumi walked down the hallway alongside one of the nurses to get to the larger room for her daily intake of medicines, she realized something she really didn't expect.

She didn't want to die.

She wanted to live. And as ridiculous as it sounded, it was because of him. A boy she's known her entire life but never communicated with. A boy who shared the same illness as her and saw her daily at their fluid-intakes, yet she never caught his eye.

So, it was definitely frustrating to know that she was fighting the inevitable. All of her doctors estimated she had two years left to go before she'd succumb to her illness, which she assumed was the same for him. Most patients suffering from ceptophrenia usually had a lifespan of 16 to 18 years of age. So, maybe if Kurumi was lucky, she'd get four more years and die at the age of 18 instead of two years and die at the age of 16. She didn't like weighing the years of how long she'd have to live, but she needed to be honest with herself.

What were the odds of anyone finding a cure in her lifetime?

What were the odds that she'd get to live?

Close to none, she concluded.

Then it's settled, her mind buzzed as she took a seat in a chair beside the door, awaiting her doctor to come in and treat her. I'm going to die anyways, right? Shouldn't I make the most of my life now, then? Isn't that how it works?