Walking Under The Cherry Blossoms

                                    

                                          
Tadashi's POV 
                          
I can hear Cherry.
                          
I want to make myself open my eyes, tell her I'll be okay, that I'll wake up any day now, just as soon as my brain has healed itself.
                          
But, something makes me stay stock still, eyed closed, still comatose. 
                          
I want to struggle. I want to make a huge gesture or something to show her I'm still here. I want the doctors to know they can't give up on me, because I'm still definitely here.
                          
But my brain refuses to cooperate. So for now I'll have to be content with my finger jumping every so often, and sighing whenever she's near. I need to keep her believing.
                          
For the past four months, nearly every day I have heard Cherry come in here. She always cries. Sometimes she talks to me as if I can reply. I can't. She knows. And then she cries again. I hear everything she says, though - I've heard everything about her miscarriage. How she's sorry, how she's an idiot for ever wishing she didn't want a child, because now she has even less of me with her.
                          
I hear all of this from inside this shell and I want to cry to. This is the most vulnerable Cherry has ever been, and I know she'd want me to be here to shield her from shocked eyes; to comfort her and reassure her that it's okay to feel and to express. 
                          
But to her, I've left her all alone. Sure, she has Aunt Cass and Hiro and Gogo and Honey Lemon and Wasabi and Fred - but nobody is grieving the same as her because she is the only person I have ever loved this fiercely. She's the only person I've proposed to - she's the true love of my life. Everybody can help Cherry in their own way, but at the end of the day only I can understand how exactly she feels right now.
                          
In my mind, when I'm too tired to try and make myself do something, I remember my fondest memories. Most of them are friends and family, Cherry included in both categories. The rest are about SFIT and Callaghan. I remember particularly the day I persuaded Cherry to take a break from working and walk under the cherry blossoms in the park. She properly opened up to me that day, and cemented our friendship and the possibility of it being something more. I hope she remembers it too. I hope she talks to me about it one day.
                          
I hear the doctors now. For a couple weeks they've been discussing right next to me what to do with me. They need the bed for more urgent patients, they say. I've shown barely any signs of rehabilitation, they say. I want to tell them I'm here, I want to show them I am slowly coming back... but obviously, I can't. 
                          
I know that as long as everyone is here for me and doesn't give up hope I am fine in this bed, but still I want out. It's so frustrating and saddening when I hear people I love come in and cry and talk about how they've nearly lost hope, and I can't do anything about it. 
I create innovative tech to help people. Why can't they help me? 
                          
I hear Cherry again. She's whispering about the first time we kissed. I wish I could whisper back that I don't want the fire to be our last kiss.