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You lie in wait in your hospital bed on a crisp and windy evening. The early autumn night is already encroaching along the sky, as artificial lights start to twinkle through the blinds. The room is warm and cosy, and lit by mellow lamps along the chestnut walls. It feels more like a hotel than a hospital. Everything has been taken care of, you've been told you're a perfect candidate for this surgery, it's all going so well, but...
You’re scared. And nervous. And hungry. And so alone. Even though you’ve spent the whole day with doctors and nurses, and other hospital workers, there was no one close enough to come with you. It was too much to ask of any of your friends who all have their own lives, and your family was never going to be an option. And even though the staff were so kind and welcoming, they could never fill the role of a special someone who was here only for you.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
You nearly jump out of the bed. The pit in your stomach now replaced by a racing heart. With your hands still clasped just beneath your chin you say, “C-come in!” as your voice shakes.
The door swings open, letting in a beam of sheer, white light from the hallway that cuts across the moody warmness of your suite. Then, a shadow casts itself into the room, a silhouette so memorable.
“Mr. Kaiba?!” you say in utter shock.
He takes that as an invitation to come in and approaches the foot of your bed. “I was told you’re fully prepped,” he says as he takes a look at your chart. His eyes just barely peer up above the clipboard and find your own. “Nervous?” he asks.
You wince and nod your head as you take a deep, constricting breath.
“You’ll be fine,” he rolls his eyes. “I only hire the best,” he says as he puts the chart back down. “Your forms didn’t list any next of kin, and you only asked for a single suite at the hotel,” he says as if this were an interrogation.
“I didn’t need anything else,” you quiver.
“It’s all fully paid for, no questions asked,” he reminds you.
“I don’t want to ask for anything I don’t need,” you naturally reply.
“I’ve already had it upgraded,” he huffs. “You should make the most of it. You only get this chance once,” he smirks.
It makes you smile too. “Hopefully.”
“Hmm,” he replies, “I take it your family aren’t supportive, I didn’t see anything in your file to suggest they had passed.”
You nod.
“Most people bring family; not the sort of thing you take a buddy along for,” he snickers with his eyes closed. “Except for one girl I know, she had her whole gaggle of friends with her when it came time for her to go through with it.” He opens his eyes and looks right at you, “It was a unique situation.”
You nod.
“No significant others?” he asks.
You shake your head. “I didn’t want to until this was taken care of…”
“That’s preposterous,” he groans. Memories of the office flood back, the nerves rise through your body up to your heart.
“Uh- Sorry, I just-” he sighs, “I had someone else say the same thing to me once before.”
Is he blushing?!
“I- It’s also hard to meet new people… I spend a lot of time at work…” you say.
“Hmm,” he grumbles, “I know that feeling.”
You smile.
“It can’t be easy going through all of this alone,” he starts. “I won’t get into it but I know what it’s like to lose a family. It's an asinine thing to reject one's own child for,” he says as he comes to your side. “I know someone who would love to help out if you want. She told me to give you this,” he says as he pulls a card from his pocket, “Just don’t go giving it around, she’s kind of a big deal.”
“This is a Duel Monsters card?” you ask, looking up at him.
“A Kuriboh to be exact,” he grumbles, “The attack and defence points make up her number.” He finishes by putting his palm to his eyes.
You hold the card between your fingers and thumbs, marvelling at the fact you hold something from the Queen of Games. “This is incredible,” the words pour from your mouth beneath a pair of doe eyes.
“It’s ridiculous is what it is,” he sneers. “But it makes a statement I suppose. Give her a call tonight if you like, I know she’ll be happy to help. Or the next time you’re lucid enough to use a phone, which might not be for a few days.”
“The recovery’s really rough,” you mutter, the nerves bundle up in your chest as you speak.
“Don’t worry,” Kaiba says, “I only pay for the good stuff. No one makes a Kaiba Corp employee cry out in pain but me.” Did he just smile at you?
“Thank you, Mr. Kaiba, for everything,” you say through a chuckle.
“It’s an important issue to me,” he says, “I make it my personal business to ensure all our employees going through this have their needs met.”
You giggle, “Do you always visit them in the middle of the night?”
He smirks at you, “Not always.” He turns away and walks toward the door but stops at the threshold and looks back at you. “You’ll be okay, I promise. We’ll take care of everything if there are any complications. If he makes a mistake, well, I’ll give him a taste of his own medicine.”
You never realised the boss had such a sense of humour.
“It’s a wonderful experience, I’m told,” he says with his hand wrapped around the door handle, and a smile on his face. “Like everything’s finally fallen into place.”
All you do is smile. Your heart feels lighter.
“Try and get some rest, say your goodbyes too,” he says as he shuts the door before you even have time to react to that last comment.
“Thank you, Mr Kaiba.”