Beep.
Ikuto sighed.
Beep.
He stared blankly at the green line darting across the screen.
Beep.
He wanted to look at his watch, but he was too tired to move.
Beep.
Ikuto half heard the door open; a sound that he had become far too familiar with over the past months.
Beep.
"Mr. Tsukiyomi,"
Beep.
"I'm sorry,"
Beep.
"The visiting hours are over."
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Ikuto slowly turned to look at the nurse, who was robed in pastel blue scrubs. He looked up at her pityingly, the same way he had every night before; hanging his head like a guilt-smitten child and looking up at her, showing no effort to hide the dying sorrow that lay deep within him, behind his dark blue eyes.
Beep.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Tsukiyomi. You have to leave."
Beep.
Ikuto reluctantly stood up and trudged out the sliding glass door.
Beep.
The constant sound ran through Ikuto's mind—the most annoying of all musical notes—the C#.
Beep.
He was far well out of earshot of the horrid machine by now, but his mind formed the perfectly timed beeps itself.
Beep.
He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather overcoat and walked out into the cold February night's air.
Beep.
He passed across the street to the grey parking garage. A grey cat passed across the sidewalk ahead of him; it crawled into a grey cardboard box that blended in with the grey décor. He walked slowly down the grey ramp, placing one foot in front of the other on the yellow line that marked the center of the trail of pavement.
Beep.
He scanned the many cars he passed until he stepped to the rear of his silver Kia Amanti. He grabbed his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the car.
Beep.
He got into the car; the seats were chilled due to the shade and the time of night. He dropped the keys onto the dashboard. The blue-haired man gazed lazily at the empty seat beside him, which was covered with a grey and white jacket that hadn't been worn for months.
Beep.
"Dammit!" he yelled. His hand flew angrily at the steering wheel, hitting the same spot it did every night and night.
There was an uneasy silence.
Beep.
The silence continued.
Ikuto picked at a piece of tearing leather on the steering wheel for a few minutes, the beeps continuing prominently in his mind. He finally grabbed his keys off the dark grey dashboard and stuck them into the ignition. He pulled out of the parking spot, and drove away from Lexington Medical Center as fast as he possibly could.