Banany's fic journal

Title: Voices (Part 3/?)
Pairings: Koyama/Shige, Tegoshi/Masuda
Word count: 3,662
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Following an accident, four of the members of NEWS are left comas in hospital. Upon awakening, their memories of being themselves have been replaced with ones of being other people, from another life.



Koyama found Tegoshi sitting by the bed in the second room he checked, singing in a whisper. He approached from behind, but his footsteps must have been audible, because Tegoshi wasn't startled when he spoke.
"I thought you'd be with Massu."
The singing stopped, replaced by a smile when Tegoshi turned to look at him. It was bright. Pretty.
Fake.

"I was," Tegoshi replied, "I was with Massu all of yesterday. But then I thought that this guy might be lonely." He looked sad all of a sudden, and Koyama couldn't decide whether his fake, happy smile or real, sad smile was worse. He stopped looking at him, but seeing Ryo lying comatose in the hospital bed hurt more. He settled his eyes on the floor instead.

"He wouldn't be happy if he heard you say that. You know what he's like."
Tegoshi laughed. The noise was horrible; sounded like breaking glass. "If he heard."
The comment hung in the air, invisible, but still dark and ugly like a stain. It wasn't in Tegoshi's character to say something like that. But then again, things had changed.
"But you know that Ryo-chan gets lonely easily." He continued hastily, trying to push away his old words with new ones, "And I think that... well, Ryo-chan is so sensitive that he'd be really sad if we left him by himself."

Koyama wondered if it was fair for Tegoshi to worry about leaving Ryo alone, when that was exactly what Ryo had done to them. And then the thought made him feel sick with guilt. Because Ryo hadn't had a choice. Like Shige hadn't had a choice. Like Yamapi and Masuda hadn't.

"Yeah." He glanced at Ryo's face; his features were impassive. It hurt more than any of his biting words ever had. "Yeah. I guess you're right."
Tegoshi sighed and caught hold of Ryo's limp hand, rubbing it absent mindedly with his own. Koyama bit his lip, stung by the familiarity of the scene. Tegoshi and Ryo's positions mirrored his and Shige's, from only days before, all too perfectly. The thought that Tegoshi could be feeling the same loneliness as he had made Koyama more nauseous, and before he knew what he was doing, he'd pulled Tegoshi against him - cradling his body close, stroking his hair, shielding him. Tegoshi let go of Ryo and clung to Koyama, burying his face in his chest.

"I wish Yamashita-san was here." He said into his shirt, and Koyama silently agreed. If Yamapi were here, he'd know what to do. He always did.
Had.

"It's okay," He whispered, planting a kiss on the top of Tegoshi's head and hugging him a little tighter, "It'll be alright, because he'll wake up soon. Okay?"

There was a pause, and then Tegoshi whispered back, "Yeah. Okay."
He didn't know if Tegoshi really believed him. How could he, when Koyama didn't really believe himself?


Winter was closing in, but for the past two days there had been a definite increase in temperature, and each new day had greeted them with sunshine. It made perfect sense to Koyama that the sun would suddenly come out after a long bout of rain, because, after all, it had been on the same day that his sunshine had come out of hospital. Tegoshi, on the other hand, had found it completely ironic – it had to be irony, he claimed, that the day the rain boy returned home, the sun came out.

Koyama didn't try to tell him otherwise, but he didn't agree either. And so, Tegoshi was released from hospital with only a rapidly healing scar and a patch of short hair as physical evidence of the accident. The public saw this, and talked about how Koyama had been so lucky to come away almost unhurt – not realizing that behind his unharmed body, it was he who had been damaged most of all.

Koyama couldn't stand being alone anymore, and went back to work immediately to avoid it. He came home late each night to prolong going to bed. When he finally did, you could hear him talking to himself into the early hours of the morning, no doubt trying to push away the silence and emptiness of his room. It always took him hours to fall asleep.

Tegoshi wasn't going back to work for almost a week – though there was little that he could do in the superficial entertainment world, with a patch of short hair and an ugly scar – but he kept watch over Koyama with worried eyes. Koyama called him up, more often than he needed to, to check how his head felt, asking if he was experiencing anything out of the ordinary; dizziness or nausea or pain. Sometimes Tegoshi got three or four calls a day from him, and was asked the same questions over and over again.

It made Tegoshi's heart ache, because he knew this was Koyama's way of dealing with the situation. He never got angry at the frequent calls, and always responded to the questions in full detail. During his time off, Koyama would come to visit and fuss over him, telling Tegoshi not to walk around so much, because it was bad for him. Tegoshi always made sure to comply. That was his way of taking care of Koyama – by letting Koyama take care of him. He needed to, Tegoshi realized, to make himself feel better.
Because he'd already failed to take care of the others.

It was on a slightly too sunny afternoon that the phone call came, after Koyama had finished making tea for himself and Tegoshi, insisting that he needed the antioxidants. They were sitting at the dining room table, and Koyama was just taking his first sip when Tegoshi's mom walked in with the phone.
"Koyama-kun, it's your mother." She told them, and Koyama took it from her with a thank you, cradling it against his ear with his left hand, the teacup still held in his right.

"Hey mom." He answered, "What's up?"
His mother didn't reply right away, and her breathing seemed more frantic than normal. Koyama felt a twinge of worry in his chest.
"Mom, is something wrong?" He asked. His voice must have sounded as though he was trying to suppress panic, because Tegoshi suddenly seemed on edge. Koyama's mother jumped to reassure him.

"Nothing's wrong, Kei." She said, almost too hurriedly. "It's just... Well, it's just that Shigeaki-kun's parents called."
Koyama suddenly found it hard to breath. His head began to pound, and the room had grown far too warm. His eyes flicked towards the air conditioner, only to find that it was already on, and it was only then that he noticed his right hand was empty. Tegoshi was in front of him, wiping up spilled tea. Koyama hadn't even felt himself drop the cup.

"Shige's parents? What did they say?" He forced the words out of his throat, in a strange, twisted voice that didn't sound like his own. It took a moment for him to realize that he could feel Tegoshi's arms around him, but even then it barely registered in his mind. His mother wasn't replying. She wasn't saying anything. It must have been ten minutes since she'd last spoken by now. Ten minutes? Ten seconds? Why wasn't she talking? Why wasn't she telling him?
He closed his hand around the phone more tightly, only to clutch thin air.

Koyama looked around wildly, finally realizing that the phone was in Tegoshi's hand. When had that happened? Had he dropped it too?
Tegoshi's face was pale, but he seemed to be keeping it together, while his mother hovered in the corner, not knowing what to do. Koyama sat still in Tegoshi's embrace, feeling as though the panic inside him was thrashing around, trying to claw its way out.

"Kei-chan," Tegoshi's voice sounded like it was coming from far away, mingling with a low buzz inside Koyama's own head. "He's awake. He woke up yesterday."

Koyama was overcome by a strange feeling, as though he was having miniature blackouts. One moment he was at the dining room table, wrapped in Tegoshi's arms, and the next he was fumbling with his car door, trying to get the key into the lock. Then he was pulling out into the street, driving in the direction of the hospital more by instinct than anything else. His mind was on things other than the road.
He had to see Shige.

~*~*~*~

His parents had come to see him as soon as they'd been told he'd woken up. Seisuke hadn't and still didn't know their names, but he had known that they were mom and dad. He'd known, because when he first saw their faces, he'd felt an emotion that was too strong for him to deny that they were.
The relief and sorrow on his father's face, the tears and joy in his mother's eyes, they'd struck him right in the heart. He was quite aware than he already had parents – parents who weren't these people – and he didn't see how this could work. But he also didn't know who else they could be.

His mother had wrapped her arms around him, stroked his hair, whispering, "We're going to take you home soon. You don't need to remember anything. All that matters is that you came back to us."
His father had wiped away stray tear before it could fall, and all of a sudden, Seisuke had had to try and choke back a sob himself.

That had all happened yesterday. Now he was waiting for the results of his final check-ups, for some papers to be signed, for advice on how to handle his condition, and then he'd be leaving.
Going home, to a place that wasn't.

He was just sitting in his bed, half waiting to be updated on his situation, half waiting to wake up in the real world, when he heard the heavy footsteps of someone running, joined by deep gasps for air as the door to his room flew open.

Dark, startled eyes met darker, fearful ones, and Seisuke felt nostalgia wash over him.
He knew the face of the man standing in the door way. Knew his name. They had never met, never once spoken, he'd never even seen a photograph before. But he knew.

The man – Koyama – seemed hesitant, on edge. It was like he was quivering, desperate to do or say something, but not knowing what. He didn't know how to take action, or even if he should.
Seisuke made the first move for him.

"Hello." He said, as simple as that, and propped himself against the pillows so he was sitting up. He felt dizzy and weak at first, but that gradually faded. By the time Koyama decided to move from the doorway, the feeling was almost completely gone.

He took two steps into the room, then stopped abruptly, as if someone had him on a puppet string and had just jerked him back.
"Hey Shige..." He said, soft and low. His voice wasn't the same as Seisuke remembered from all the times he'd never heard it. "I can't believe you're finally awake."
Seisuke didn't reply. He didn't know how to.

"You know, I thought that when you woke up..." Koyama started again, only to trail off. He was lost, confused; these feelings were laid bare to the naked eye by the tension in his limbs, and the curves of his face. He didn't seem sure if they were really ready to see one another yet.

"What did you think?" Seisuke asked. It didn't really sound like a question. Maybe it wasn't meant to be one.
Koyama looked away, broke eye contact. I thought I'd hug you and wouldn't let go until you pushed me off. I thought I'd take you out to karaoke and bowling, and to eat somewhere really expensive. I thought you'd call me an extravagant idiot, and do that half-smile thing to tell me you wouldn't want to be doing anything else.
But he couldn't say all that. Not to a stranger.
"I thought I'd be happy." The words seemed choked, like someone was strangling him. "I didn't think for a second I'd only be another face you didn't recognize."

Seisuke's chest tightened. Koyama sounded so lonely that it hurt.
"You've always been an idiot." He said, and Koyama sharply drew in a breath, took a step back to steady himself.
"Do you know who I am?" He asked, mind not daring to hope and heart not being able to help it. Seisuke could hear it in his voice – see it in his eyes, behind the shine of the too-bright hospital lights. "Shige, do you remember me?"

He edged forward, all unsteady legs and erratic steps, towards the bed. For a moment Seisuke thought that he was going to reach out for him, take hold of him, but Koyama suddenly seemed afraid. Instead, he grabbed the bed sheets, weaving them around his hands like misshapen gloves. His face was too close, eyes begging, and Seisuke couldn't help but turn his head away before he replied.

"You're Koyama." He said, confident of the answer. If he hadn't been so sure, he couldn't have replied. Koyama looked as if he were about to break, and Seisuke didn't want to be the one who delivered the final blow.

He was given no warning before weight and warmth was flung against him, arms enveloping his body and fingers clutching the back of his flimsy hospital gown. Seisuke had never felt such desperation in a hug in his entire life. His arms, moving as if on their own, threaded themselves around Koyama's body in return, holding him tenderly.

"They said you were someone else now." He said in a hoarse voice against Seisuke's neck. "They said you weren't you anymore."
Koyama was crying, Seisuke realized with a start. He could feel the tears against his neck; lukewarm liquid that somehow burnt hot against his skin. He didn't know how he was he supposed to say that it was true. How he could possibly break the news to Koyama that he wasn't Shigeaki? Had no memory of ever being Shigeaki?

It should have been easier, because he knew that Koyama was only a dream; he wasn't real, was just something that Seisuke had made up. He didn't have real feelings to hurt. But despite what logic said, the man he was holding in his arms felt real; just as real as Mika had felt every time she'd ever hugged him. And he couldn't do it. Couldn't say that he wasn't who Koyama thought he was.

"I missed you." Koyama whispered after his tears had subsided, "Single eyelids was lonely without you."
Seisuke awkwardly stroked his hair with one hand, wondering if Shigeaki was missing Koyama too.


It quickly became plain to him that he should have cleared up the misunderstanding with Koyama as soon as it had happened.
"He remembers me." Koyama had assaulted the doctor, as soon as he had returned to the room, "Shige knows who I am, so his memory must have come back. I know that--"

"No," Seisuke had interrupted hastily, before the doctor or his parents could gain any false hope. Then, "No." he repeated, a little less harshly, "I remember Koyama's name and face. But that's all."
He couldn't meet anyone's eyes, finding the foot of his bed much more appealing to stare at.

Koyama didn't say anything after that, and the doctor launched into a brief explanation of the results of the tests they had run, to cover the sudden awkwardness.
Eventually Seisuke chanced a brief look at Koyama's face, while the doctor was talking and immediately wished he hadn't. It was the most frighteningly blank face that he had ever seen, reminding Seisuke of the eyes of a dead animal. He shivered, and tried to concentrate on the doctor's words.

"However, what we don't know is how this happened. Aside from some minor bruising, he wasn't injured in the accident whatsoever. Tegoshi-san was the only one who sustained a head wound grave enough to cause the sort of amnesic symptoms Shigeaki-san is experiencing. And as far as the memories of being a completely different person, we're stumped. If you want, we can refer you to a psychiatrist to further try and identify the cause of this, because from the tests we've run, it doesn't seem as though the cause is physical."

"So Shigeaki can come home now?" His mother asked. Her voice was hopeful, but tentative, like she was afraid that the answer would be no.
"Well, I'm no expert," The doctor said, "But as far as I know, being in familiar surroundings where something could trigger his memory will be far more beneficial than staying here in the hospital, having more tests run. And as I said before, his physical condition is absolutely fine."

Seisuke saw his parents exchange relieved smiles, and somehow, the idea that they were so happy to have him back, even when he wasn't the person they'd been hoping for, warmed his heart. But then he caught sight of Koyama's face out of the corner of his eye, and suddenly everything seemed wrong again.
Seisuke tore his gaze away, and tried not to think about him anymore.

It was a strange feeling, Seisuke found upon returning home, to be sat down and told about who you are. At the time he'd left the hospital, all he'd known was that his name was Kato Shigeaki, he'd been involved in an accident that had left him in a hospital for just over three weeks, and that he had a best friend named Koyama Keiichiro.

To suddenly be informed that he was an internationally famous pop star, who also happened to be a law student at Aoyama Gakuin University was a little mind boggling.
'Welcome home. By the way, did you know that you've released over half a dozen number one hit singles?'
It was only a tiny bit stunning.

He'd been introduced to Tegoshi Yuya a couple of days later (who had winced when Seisuke had used the word 'introduce') and made his first trip to the psychiatrist - a man in his early forties with abnormally bushy eyebrows. Seisuke was asked to talk at length about his life, while his parents talked at length about Shigeaki's life.
The psychiatrist attempted to make connections that didn't seem to exist.
His father eventually got tired of the constant questioning, and cut the man off in the middle of a sentence.

"Can you please tell us what it could be and how to fix it?" He said, his words polite, but his voice the complete opposite.
The psychiatrist was unperturbed by his behaviour; he was probably used to people getting angry and frustrated, and replied in a professional manner.

"I've never heard of a case exactly like this one before, but there is a slight possibility that your son could be suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder thanks to the accident, leading to a suppression of memory."
He pursed his lips, in a way that Seisuke quickly learned meant that the man was theorizing, rather than stating anything he was sure of.

"But it seems unlikely that memories of his entire life would be suppressed, much less replaced by new ones. Cases of False Memory Syndrome have been recorded, but again, not to this extent. Both PTSD and FMS most often centre around the actual traumatic event that caused them. Memory suppression of your entire life, and the creation of the memory of an entire life to fill in the gap are quite unheard of."

When they left the psychiatrist's office, he promised to do some research, and Seisuke and his parents went home without much progress and with few new leads.
"I'm still dreaming." Seisuke said to himself, once he was alone in his room. It was a conclusion he'd come to several times after waking up in someone else's life. "Or I'm insane, and this is all an illusion. That's why they can't figure it out."
He laughed, but it sounded bitter. The idea that he'd lost his mind... it wasn't really that funny.

~*~*~*~

It had been four days since Shige had woken up, and neither Ryo, Massu, nor Yamapi were showing any signs of coming out of unconsciousness. Tegoshi visited only occasionally, because whenever he saw Massu's blank face he felt a cocktail of negative emotions. Fear that Masuda would wake up and have no idea who he was, the same way Shige had. An overwhelming sense of loneliness and loss. And, a feeling he kept solely to himself, a twinge of jealousy that it had been Shige who had woken up, while his Massu's condition wasn't even improving.

Right now, it was the second to last evening he was spending off work, and he was wasting it in his room, curled up in a ball on his bed. His parents, while confused that he seemed to be feeling worse rather than better since Shige had woken up, had stopped bothering him whenever he seemed down. He'd told them that he needed time to himself to mull over his feelings rather than being interrupted, and they'd learned to comply.

Thus, here he was, lying alone in his room, feeling sorry for himself.
He was debating whether or not to go and have a bath and then fall asleep despite it still being quite early, when his mother threw open his door, in a way far more violent than was characteristic of her.
Tegoshi looked up, startled. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were wide and bright. She seemed out of breath, though she couldn't have run very far from anywhere else in the house to his room.

"Yuya, Yuya, I was watching the news," She said, words slurring together in a hurried way, "I was watching the news. They said that Masuda-kun has woken up."
~*~*~*~