--Chapter 2: Dolor Veniam Fert--
“Who does that fucking prick think he is, anyway? Did you hear him? Fuck, I just want to slam my fist into his smug ass face!” Sanzo growled vocally, shoving articles of clothing and other necessities into his suitcase. Compared to Hakkai’s carefully packed one, Sanzo’s resembled a disheveled mess, and the mere sight of it made the brunet wince.
“Not while we’re in the church, Sanzo. If you feel it necessary to continue yelling curses like that, please keep it to a normal decibel level,” Hakkai admonished, letting out a heavy sigh as the blond continued swearing a blue streak. “And that ‘prick’ as you call him happens to be your superior, whether you like it or not. We have to go where he sends us. Try to think of this as a quasi-vacation!”
His sunny tone only earned him a dark look from Sanzo, who looked less than pleased with the green-eyed man’s choice of words. If it were possible, the blond frowned harder as he fought to close his overstuffed suitcase. “Whatever. Let’s go get this fucking mission over with.”
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“Goku, it’s time for your medication,” a sweet-voiced woman called, smiling sadly at the prostrate figure perched in the window sill. Encompassing eyes the color of well-polished amber turned in her direction, partially covered by messy russet bangs that hung carelessly against a tawny forehead. They regarded the owner of the voice with a silent nod of assent, the thin body springing from its resting place and the boyish face offering a bit of a smile as she turned to lead him out the door.
It always hurt Aria’s heart to see the normally spirited boy in such a mood, but she knew that there wasn’t anything she or any of the other nurses could do about it. She brushed a ebony lock of hair behind her ear, accompanying deep sloe eyes filled with sympathy for the boy trailing behind her. She knew his wrists were probably aching with the change in the weather, the rain a continual downpour that dampened the spirits of all who resided at the Home. “It’s probably time to change those bandages, isn’t it?”
Another silent nod of assent and Aria found herself missing the usual boisterous voice that always poured out of the small boy. Goku was by no means young, being nineteen, but because of his ‘condition’ his growth had been stunted to a near standstill. It was as if he was caught eternally in gangly adolescence. “My feet are hurting too…but I think it’s just the rain and the cold,” she heard him say somberly.
“Well, let’s just go and change those bandages, shall we?” she answered, leading him into what appeared to be an examination room. The walls were a stark, sterile white that glinted harshly in the bright lighting from the bulbs overhead. She noticed her companion tense a bit, and she couldn’t fault him one bit for it. Motioning for him to hop up onto the metal table, she quickly examined the stained bandages that were wrapped tightly around his wrists and feet. The bandages had become a constant, so much that Goku didn’t even flinch anymore when she unwrapped them, careful as she was. She was the only one that the brunet allowed to touch his wounds, eyes filled with trust and appreciation for her reaction.
Aria always tried not to flinch at the sight of the wounds, a direct puncture through each wrist and through the flesh of his feet. It defied all thought and medical science, how they continued to bleed constantly and always reopened despite the sutures performed to keep them closed. Because they couldn’t define it, Goku was branded a hemophiliac and a danger to himself, since the doctors chalked it up to self-mutilation. She doubted that it was either of these things, but kept her mouth closed. “Has the bleeding slowed any?” she asked seriously, cleaning the flesh as best she could. The strangest thing was that the flesh never smelled rotten or decaying, but rather fragrant, like roses or something equally perfumed.
Goku shrugged, fighting a wince as the alcohol touched the open wounds. “I guess. I’ve gotten so used to it now, I don’t even think about it. At least until dumb ass Gojyo steps on my foot like he did this morning,” he grumbled good-naturedly, earning himself a soft smile as a reward. He knew his melancholy always affected those closest to him, which made his mood dip even lower. Aria was one of the few people who didn’t cower away or look at him in disgust, so he always did what he could to make her happy.
“Almost finished. Should I go give Gojyo another shot in return?” she teased, delighting in the flashing grin that responded to her words. Of course, she wouldn’t actually go and give the redheaded pain in the rear a shot for his teasing, but it always amused Goku to think she would.
“Right in his ass. Give him a taste of his own medicine,” he supplied, noticing she was finished wrapping the wounds and moving about as if to test them. Satisfied, he hopped down off the table and held out his hand in expectation. He knew what was coming next; the god awful pill that made his head feel heavy and fuzzy. He wasn’t crazy, and they both knew it.
As if on cue, she handed him the pill and turned around, smiling a little when she heard the small sound of the pill hitting plastic. She could have said something, but didn’t. What the doctors didn’t know didn’t hurt them. “I think Gojyo’s waiting in the playroom for you. Let me know when you need those bandages changed again, okay?” she offered, planting a delicate kiss on his forehead as she shooed him off in the opposite direction. When he was out of earshot, she sighed audibly, flopping down in the chair and holding her head in hands. For all the strength she showed in front of Goku, she couldn’t help but break down in tears when she was alone. Her heart bled for him, knowing that there wasn’t anything she could do to help him. Instead, she put her faith in God and hoped that she made the right decision.
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Gojyo leaned farther out the open window, blowing a steady stream of smoke from his latest drag out into the wet air. He watched it curl and dissipate, disinterestedly throwing the half-finished cancer stick outside and turning around with a sigh. The visit hadn’t gone well; his stepmother was her usual bitchy self and his brother had just sat there silently, allowing her to take potshots at him. The man’s eyes had told numerous apologies, but Gojyo would have none of it.
“You’re nothing more than a filthy, half-breed abomination to God! Your immoral bitch of a mother tempting your father like that! Disgusting! You’re taking after her, I know it!” Gojyo remembered, barely listening as his eyes remained trained on some indefinable spot behind her head. The subject of his birth and mixed heritage was always touchy, so naturally the crazed woman felt it necessary to bring it up every time she saw him.
“Gojyo…hey, Gojyo, are you-ACK!” was the only warning he got as a body pummeled into him, nearly knocking him out of the window. Scarlet eyes the color of fresh blood widened comically, equally vermillion locks growing damp with their sudden exposure to the elements. He felt spindly arms wrap tightly around his waist, preventing him from falling and keeping the other body upright in the process. He turned, fully prepared to tongue lash the person he knew was behind him, until sorrowful eyes met his own. “I-I’m sorry. I tripped,” Goku mumbled, looking away and wringing his hands together. The boy had lost his balance again, a side effect of the wounds on his feet. It was hard to keep one’s balance with a wound clear through the arch of one’s foot.
“It’s okay. Don’t get all upset about it,” the redhead offered, twining tanned fingers into brunet locks as a brotherly show of affection. A sniffle was his reply, sighing once before pulling the boy into a tight headlock. “C’mon, only pansies cry like that. Are you a pansy?”
The boy struggled whole-heartedly against the hold, muttering responses into Gojyo’s side. The redhead triumphed, keeping the smaller body steady against him as he mocked, “Stupid monkey, you should know-YEOWCH!” His words were interrupted when sharp teeth dug into his side, instantly releasing the other man. “What the hell?!”
Goku smiled innocently, offering a shrug of his shoulders as he took a seat at the table in the center of the room. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Gojyo. I didn’t see a thing.”
Gojyo growled under his breath, setting about a fit of coughing that he covered with his hand. Cool, rough hands and that strange perfumed smell that always followed the brunet assaulted his senses, calming him despite the cloying thickness of it. His hand came back red, knowing the boy saw it before he had a chance to wipe it off. “Gojyo! You’ve been smoking again, haven’t you? Didn’t the doctor tell you can’t smoke?” Goku scolded gently, helping his still wheezing friend to a chair. A glass of water appeared, followed by a familiar smiling face.
“Goku’s right. Am I going to have to do another room search, Gojyo?” Aria asked sweetly, though there was enough of a scolding tone of her own underneath the innocent sounding words. “I know your brother feels it necessary to bring those things to you, but it’ll only aggravate your condition.”
The redhead grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but rightfully handed her the still full pack of cigarettes without complaint. His lungs burned from the smoke he had inhaled, now regretting smoking one in the first place. He knew good and well he wasn’t supposed to be smoking, but at the same time, he didn’t really care. Pulmonary edema is what they called it, but all it meant that his body was trying to drown him in his own fluids. “Sorry I let you down again,” he muttered, earning himself a smack in the back of the head.
“Stupid. You didn’t let me down again…just stop doing it in the first place!” Goku continued to scold, but he knew the words had would have the proper effect on his companion. He felt a certain envy that Gojyo had visitors at all, albeit not the best of visitors, but visitors nonetheless. Goku was parentless, found wandering around hungry and amnesiac, unable to remember where he had come from or anything else. Gojyo and Aria were all he had, a semblance of the older brother and mother that he never had.
Gojyo smiled weakly at his words, taking the opportunity to ruffle the boy’s hair just a bit. He tried to forget about the unpleasant visit, forcing it out of his mind as he and Goku began to tussle playfully, under Aria’s watchful eyes. Even trapped in this hell of a hospital, he felt more at home than he ever did under his stepmother’s roof.
(Translation: Pain brings absolution)