All About Us [Yuri Katsuki x Reader]

119 - Wishful thinking

Yuri had taken it upon himself to check up on you every once in a while. He felt responsible for what happened thus making him duty bound to do so. It sounded cheesy yes, but he worries. Your mom and your dad took turns in watching over you for the past few days but they did tend to go back home for a much needed rest and then just come back a little later. He had volunteered to stay in the hospital whenever either of them felt the need to go and rest...He really wished that he had met your family under much better circumstances than this. 

For the past few days, he had found himself in your room more times than he could count. The thought of coming inside once again seemed like second nature now. His shoes had made a soft clacking sound against the white tile. And for the past few days he has done nothing but played the waiting game, unsure of just what to wait for. During that time, he opted to observe. The silence was deafening but at the same time, it gave him solace. Waiting does this sometimes. It gives one time to examine the ordinary and ask questions of the things one simply takes for granted. 

For a moment, he wondered if it was like that with you. You have become such a constant in his life that it had made him question whether or not he has taken you for granted because he had viewed you as something unchanging. He felt like an idiot for believing that he wasn't. 

After all, change is the only constant in life that is guaranteed.

The room you were in was rather austere in a sense. Everything was so austere and in the middle of it all was you. You were situated in center of the room. You were practically dead to the world, unaware of what was going on as you slumbered. When asleep, you laid as still as a brick, it was almost unnerving. The only movement was the gentle, rhythmic rise and fall of your chest. Your breathing was slow, a contrast to your shaky breaths as he held you in his arms. It was becoming quite difficult to imagine that you were the very same person who could literally light up a room with your boundless energy (that is, if you could be bothered). His train of thought trailed off. He briefly wondered what you were dreaming about or if you were even dreaming at all. Dreams were a funny thing. You'd have your own little world in a dream. There appears your desires in a living fantasy, the 'you' who you want to be would easily be attainable. You'd have everything, the things that you despaired to have would be yours. He wondered if you were happy...

You deserved to be happy...after everything that you have been through, no one could possibly deserve happiness more than you.

The lamp by your bedside was on thus casting a warm glow to your otherwise pallid complexion. It illuminated the room to some extent however he could not say that he was pleased with how dark everything was. He had no qualms with the darkness itself but rather he didn't like that it had made the room all that more grim, reminding him of where he was. He would have switched the lights on however, he also did not want to wake you...he did not know what would happen if you did and you caught him there with you. That incident earlier was your first real contact with him and in the back of his mind, he wonders if it was all just a fluke, that this was all a dream that he has yet to wake up to. He figured that the only reason you willingly allowed yourself to be embraced by him was because you were frightened and scared.

His mind was beginning to play tricks on him again and it was not in the way one would think. He wasn't hallucinating or anything rather, he was lost in thought. His imagination was running wild, his brain was working on overdrive,  conjuring up the worst possible scenarios for when you wake. The ability to play out the possibilities in one's head is actually terrifying. It could make you feel happy one moment and then make you feel like collapsing to the ground on the next. Right now, he felt the latter. He could hear the not-so-subtle whispers in his head. The air had become rather dense, making his chest tighten. His thoughts began to scatter like there was an electrical storm in his head, there were far too many short circuits, far too many possibilities, one even more horrible than the other. He would have gladly switched it off if he could. In all honesty, he was scared. He was scared that the moment your eyes open again, you would take one good look at him and your face would contort in utter distaste. He was afraid that you would tell him to leave. He was terrified at the thought that when you do wake up your eyes would look at him distrustfully and with contempt. The warmth that he usually associated with you would be soon replaced by that of hate. His heart wouldn't be able to bear it.

However, he stayed. He couldn't leave you...not now and not ever. He had made the mistake of not coming after you once and he has decided that he would rather live with you hating him than to not be by your side.

Still, it was a rather daunting thought.

He had brought in a chair and set it right next to your bed. He wanted to be there  just in case you needed anything when you woke up. Being this close to you was no longer a luxury that he could afford. He missed this. As he examined your still form, he frowned. He feels like he is to blame for this happening to you. He sighed.

His hands were frailty and caution, shaking gently as he reached out to you.  He gently took your hand in his, careful as not to wake you. The hand that once reassured him that his world was safe laid limply in his touch. He had clutched your weary fingers anyway, letting you know that he was there. It wasn't something uncommon between the two of you. You often held hands when you were together. At first, he had been embarrassed when you did. The way you boldly held  his had him reeling, he felt a sudden rush whenever you did and he had no idea what to make of it. Soon, it became something to look forward to, a reassurance that you were there and that you were with him. 

His eyes began to mist over. He was shaking as he carefully drew your hand closer to his lips and gently kissed your knuckles. He didn't know what else to say.

"I'm so sorry..." His voice was small but it had pierced through the silence. You probably couldn't hear him and he doubts that you did...but still...

In an ideal world, everything would fix itself and everyone would be happy. However, it is sad to think that the moment you open your eyes, everything is going to be lost again. It would be nothing more than a distant memory, one that you couldn't even vaguely remember.

Dreams were fleeting and there was nothing anyone could do to hold onto them.