Rated M for language & future chapters.
I don't own anything for To Aru Majutsu no Index etc. I wish. ; A;
Inspired by Your Love is Your Sweet Lies, a yaoi oneshot by Hiyoshimaru Akira.
The first thing he noticed was that oh-so-distinct smell of antiseptics. And frankly, it smelt pretty gross. It didn't take a bright person to figure out that he's in a hospital, but this was definitely not the first thing the boy would've liked to notice.
The youth did not feel any pain or discomfort, nor did his head feel groggy. In fact, he could sense his surroundings to be fairly pleasant and comfortable, aside from that strange odor - but he was starting to get used to that too.
He felt surrounded by a distinct blackness, but he didn't complain. He was content with not being able to see for the time being.
Steady Tick tocks resounded in the room, the rhythmic sound of his breathing paced spontaneously with the sound of the clock.
Tick tock, breath in.
Tick tock, breath out.
Tick tock, breath in.
Tick tock, breath out.
Out of boredom, the boy started to count each passing second. He decided that he would wake up as soon as he perceived another person's company. Perhaps it was because he did not want to wake up and see an empty, gray room. He did not want to acknowledge that he was alone.
541...
542...
543...
544...
Someone sneezed.
The boy lost count. 554...? Or 545? It didn't matter, he was done counting anyways.
Hesitantly, he opened his eyes. He blinked a few times until he could finally keep his eyes open - although he still had to squint - and began to adjust to the bright fluorescent light. He didn't look around, instead he dumbly looked at the ceiling. It was almost as if he didn't want to wake up, seeing the dullness of the place was awfully depressing. He nearly closed his eyes and fell back asleep, the Tick tocks of the clock lulling him.
Sluggishly, he rotated his head to see the person who sneezed. He rested his cheek on the white pillow and blankly stared at a lanky boy sitting on a wooden chair. His dreadfully thin arms combined with that snow white hair made him look like an unhealthy old man. The boy was facing the bed, his jaw resting on his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Red eyes met slate-gray eyes.
An albino? He thought. He didn't hear anyone enter his room before he gained consciousness (although his eyes were closed), so he assumed that the person had been sitting there for a long time.
They didn't say anything for some time. Neither was willing to break their gaze, but stoic red eyes got a little creepy after a while. Not to mention that it wasn't too comfortable to fix eyes upon a stranger. So the boy took the first initiative and sat up in his bed.
"Who are you?"
The boy in the bed paused for a second and shook his head, beginning to realize what has happened to him. He changed his question.
"Wait... Who am I...?"