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"And the arms of the ocean are carrying me
And all this devotion was rushing out of me
And the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me
But the arms of the ocean delivered me" - Florence Welch
He shook the bottle of prescription drugs, the capsules rattling against the plastic. The lid opened with a pop, and he swallowed the first one dry.
The second one got caught in his throat for a moment, before he grabbed the glass by his sink, chasing it down with lukewarm water.
“Shinjiro…?” he heard a small voice coming from his bed, and so he turned as the lid snapped back on with a click. Minako lay under the sheets, her bare shoulder and collarbone visible only from the moonlight in the window. She looked small in his bed.
“I’m here.” He said, taking the few steps to reach her, running his fingers on the pale expanse of skin.
Her fingers, so lithe and gentle, touched his bicep tentatively. She pulled him to lie down again.
“I’m cold.” She complained, her voice holding no real concern. He saw the hint of a smile, and so he tugged the sheets back, revealing the rest of her to the moonlight before she let out a surprised yelp. He couldn’t help but smirk, crawling into her arms so he could kiss her again.
Minako was like a sigh, every press of his mouth to her skin was a promise, an oath, and finally – an apology. Shinjiro had tried desperately to deny his feelings, but it was pointless. She was tireless, merciless, and sometimes he found her so overpowering that he struggled to look her in the eyes.
When she had kissed him in the privacy of his room, he felt utterly betrayed. His heart beat so erratically he could barely hear her gasps when he reciprocated. He was hungry, mindless, touching her wherever he had denied himself before, and she accepted him. She welcomed him wholly.
She shouldn’t trust him with her heart, he’s a ticking time bomb, he’s a dying man, he’s—
Minako brushed her tongue against his.
He is nothing but hers.
The first shot stings.
He swears he can hear it break bone, where it hits him by his breast pocket. He feels something sharp cutting at his chest and he clenches his teeth so hard he thinks they might crack.
This is what you wanted.
He blinks, seeing a flash of red, and then a cry of pain – but it isn’t from him, and it takes him a moment to realize the adrenaline kick was for nothing. It was quiet.
And then Shinjiro realizes the thing that stopped the second bullet was a person.
“Mina--!” Ken gasps, a sob caught in the boy’s throat.
Shinjiro’s head is spinning, he can’t feel his hands. Minako stands in front of him, her hands holding onto the sleeves of his jacket. She’s pale and Shinjiro can’t hear anything over someone sobbing directly in his ears, and then he realizes it’s his own throat that’s raw, and it’s his own tears that blur his vision as her weight topples into him.
“I won’t let you do this.” She says, all gasps and sobs, smiling despite the bullet threatening her every heartbeat.
There are footsteps nearby but he can’t look away from her. Someone is gripping his shoulder and it’s Mitsuru and she’s yelling to him that they need to get her to the hospital but he can’t breathe.
He can’t breathe.
This was supposed to be his justice. He was supposed to atone, he was supposed to die and break-even. Ken was supposed to be at peace with him dead but now—
“You’re just as much a victim as he is.” She breathes, and Shinjiro doesn’t know if she’s talking to him or Ken but it doesn’t matter. The way she says it, the implications of it are the same either way.
When he picks her up in his arms, he feels lost. Confused. Alone.
He is swimming, he is drowning.
He is an anchor.
She is the lighthouse.
A week passed after they had slept together.
“I’m surprised you’re still here.” Shinjiro said to her one evening, Minako quirking a brow as she pressed her fingers to his wrist. They lay in his bed, his free arm behind his head.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” it seemed like an innocent question.
“I wasn’t expecting you to bother with someone like me.” He said. Honest – much more honest than he intended to be.
“Because I love you.”
“You’ve mentioned it once or twice.” He teased, and watched the smile spread on her face. The room went quiet. He knew he should return the gesture, but the words were stuck in his throat – like the second pill he couldn’t swallow.
“Minako, I just want t—” Shinjiro was interrupted by her mouth on his, a hand gently angling his jaw for her to kiss him better.
She pulled away, looking a bit surprised at herself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interru—“
He kissed her again.
The hospital was silent at 3am.
The rest of SEES was lined up in the chairs outside the operating department. Yukari was with Ken, holding his hand and talking quietly with him. He heard footsteps approach him where he sat by the window.
"Finally come out of it, have we?" He heard someone say, a familiarity only associated with Akihiko. "Can we talk?"
Shinjiro didn't blink, standing up, feeling numbness in his bones.
They walked down a recuperation unit, glass on both sides that displayed an indoor garden. It felt like a sickly zoo, and he hated it.
Akihiko turned when they were alone, his pale features looked haggard in the artificial lighting.
"How's your side feeling?" He asked, and Shinjiro felt himself raise an arm to feel where the bandages were wrapped beneath his bloody jacket. The pocket watch had taken the brunt of the damage, pieces of glass had cut into his skin but somehow he had survived.
By a miracle.
By her miracle.
"Fine." Shinjiro managed when Akihiko looked as if he was expecting him to speak.
They were quiet for a long time, Shinjiro too preoccupied with his guilt to talk, and Akihiko gathering his thoughts.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Akihiko asked finally, looking over at him. "I could've helped."
"I didn't need your help."
"You say that." Akihiko laughed, broken. "People are going to try to save you no matter what you decide, Shinji. Look at Minako."
Shinjiro felt his body shake, his hands move, and he was holding Akihiko by the collar before even letting out a breath.
They stood in silence, Shinjiro ready to pounce, Akihiko ready to take the brunt of his anger, his despair, his fear -- whatever it meant.
"She wasn't supposed to--" Shinjiro trailed off, his voice frail and choked. "I wish I had died on that pavement."
He felt a sharp pain near his temple, and realized Akihiko had smacked him.
"Did you learn nothing?!" Akihiko demanded, his voice echoing down the hall, probably disturbing half the patients in the wing. "Was her sacrifice for nothing, then, Shinji?!" He continued. "Don't you get it? She didn't want it! She knew what was happening between you and Ken before anyone else!"
Both of them were shaking, clinging onto one another. It wasn't anger anymore, it was anguish, desperation. Akihiko was glad he had survived, and Shinjiro felt as if his heart was in his throat every moment Minako's life was on the line. How would Akihiko have coped if Shinjiro had died?
"Minako is too good for--for everyone."
For me.
Shinjiro tried not to weep. "And because I--"
"Don't." Akihiko's head was bowed low, he gripped Shinjiro's jacket harder. "She said she doesn't want you to do that."
"Do what." Shinjiro scoffed and Akihiko looked up.
"Carry the burden alone. That's what she's doing for you."
Shinjiro felt his frame shake, and when it became too much, he closed his eyes.
"I didn't tell you to look for it." Shinjiro defended.
"I know that." Minako said, holding the pocket watch by its chain, swaying back and forth like a countdown. "I'm glad you didn't. Made it a surprise." She grinned and he couldn't help but quirk a smile, relaxing.
She tugged on his hand, placing the elusive pocket watch in his palm and closing his fingers around it.
"And now it's home, with you."
It surprised her when he pulled out a present from his jacket. He was hesitant, and when he spoke, it was tense.
"I got this for you a while ago, I've been hesitating on whether or not to give it to you." He cleared his throat, handing Minako the leather watch. "I thought it might look good on you."
She smiled and he blushed, glancing at his feet instead.
"Thank you, Senpai." Minako took the watch out of its meagre wrapping, and put it on. He felt embarrassed suddenly, surprised at her insistence.
"Could you--?" She gestured for him to adjust the strap. Shinjiro hesitated, and then took a step closer, one hand holding her wrist and the other fitting the leather band.
"Thank you." She murmured, and somehow it feels like a secret. Like if he's not careful enough, the moment could flutter away from him like a bird.
He held her wrist, pressing his thumb at the base of her palm. It was intimate -- too intimate to be played off as an accident. He knew he was asking too much of her, but she smiled as a reply, allowing him this.
The way she looked at him...
He wasn't worthy.
At 5am, Shinjiro woke in the waiting room chair. His shoulders were aching, and his side was sore from the tension in his muscles. He glanced around the room.
Akihiko was asleep in the chair next to him, the back of his head resting on the wall, his arms folded over his chest. The dark circles under his eyes were clearly visible. Almost losing his best friend, and then losing the leader of their group was exhausting. Fuuka was leaning on Aigis, who stared sightlessly forward. Actually, he didn't recall seeing Aigis move at all since she pried Minako out of his arms after being shot. He was weak anyway, and didn't protest. Or -- he didn't have the strength to. The robot had stayed dutifully by Minako's side until she was brought into the emergency surgery unit.
A nurse came out of the emergency unit, and Mitsuru was the only one awake enough to notice. She spoke quietly as the nurse fixed the mask around her neck. There was a lot of nodding, and Shinjiro felt himself walking toward her without really thinking about it.
"Your friend is very weak, but she should be okay. She is extremely lucky to be alive, the bullet barely missed her major artery."
"Can we visit her or is she sleeping?"
"She's awake, and she asked for someone in particular -- is Ken here?"
Shinjiro blinked, surprised that the first person Minako requested was Ken. He was expecting Yukari, or Junpei -- since they had been her friends the longest.
"Me?" Ken asked, looking just as confused and exhausted as Shinjiro felt.
The nurse escorted Ken through the doors and they continued to wait.
"You look tired." She said to him as he washed a frying pan in the sink. He had just finished cooking a delicious meal for her friends. Her friends.
She dried cutlery next to him, closing drawers with her hip. "Don't tell me--" she looked frightened for a moment. "That you actually enjoyed yourself!"
He scoffed, taking a hand out of the water to flick his wet fingers at her. She shrieked once, laughing.
"Cut it out! You know you did." She smiled, winking at him. He had.
"Whatever you say."
"Let's do it again sometime."
He thought of the implications of agreeing, of saying that he'd be looking forward to it. He thought of the kind of promise she was asking of him, and wondered if she had known all along.
A sick man, a dying man.
"I'm counting on you." He said instead, and the smile she gave him was brilliant.
Ken emerged from the recuperation wing with a strange look on his face. He stood next to Shinjiro who was leaning up against the wall.
He looked up at Shinjiro, above him, and then finally was able to look him in the eyes. "I'm sorry I..."
"Don't apologize, kid. If you really want to say something, don't ever apologize to me."
"I was so busy hating you, I didn't try to understand why it happened." Ken said, and then glanced over at the sleeping Akihiko. "I talked to a lot of people. It was your persona, wasn't it?"
Shinjiro didn't say anything, and Ken didn't expect him to.
"After spending time with everyone, I don't think I wanted you dead, I just think it would've maybe --"
"Closure."
"Yes. But I would have felt guilty."
Shinjiro had been waiting for this opportunity for so long, to speak to the boy who was made motherless by his hands -- and yet...
"I don't think there's anything else that needs to be said. You were willing to die even after everything, and Minako was trying to protect us. That's all."
"That's not how I wanted it to happen."
"No, you were hoping Takaya would kill you. Life's not that fair."
Shinjiro let out a huff, maybe it was a sob, or a laugh -- he didn't know himself anymore, he didn't understand. He lived for so long feeling the same, looking the same, thinking the same, and then Minako came and mixed up everything in his head.
He's just as much a victim as you are.
Ken scratched his neck, "She asked for you." He spoke hesitantly, and then walked back over to where Yukari just recently woke up.
After getting short directions to Minako's room, he knocked on the door once, seeing light from the sunrise reflecting in the matte privacy window.
He opened the door, his eyes settling on the fragile looking redhead in the hospital room. She was in the bed, tucked up to her armpits in blankets, and she had various machinery hooked up.
"Shinjiro," she spoke quietly, and he tried to ignore the way his gut clenched at her heartbeat getting faster after speaking his name. He dragged a chair over, sitting in it and taking off his hat.
"Here." Minako spoke again, reaching her hand out to his. The leather watch around her wrist, he turned it over and pressed his thumb on the sensitive skin at her pulse.
Shinjiro wanted to cry, and admittedly, he did - a bit. He sighed, a sob wracking his body as he tried to keep it under control.
For her.
Keep it together.
"How's your side?" She asked.
"Idiot, I should be asking that."
"Well? Ask away." She joked, but he took the bait regardless.
"....how are you."
"I'm happy!" She said, and he blinked, looking up at her. There were tears in her eyes. Beautiful, Ruby, bright and real and she was going to be okay, he could hardly believe it.
"I got to protect you. Thank goodness."
"Minako..." He surged forward, his heart threatening to crush his chest. He kissed her cheek and she was laughing, crying into his arms. She wound her arms around his neck and he pressed his mouth to her forehead, her ear, her nose, her eyelids.
"Don't cry, please." He begged and she only cried more. "Don't ever scare me like that again."
"Then don't try to get killed, doofus." She blubbered between hiccups. "I love you."
He pressed his lips to her eyelids, and then to her ear, whispering his reply like a vow.