(,',,,)~
Through the fluttering curtains that framed his window, he stares transfixed on the shadows shifting into different shapes and then molding into one in a lazy dance beneath the hazy glow of the moon. Somewhere, at the far corners of his mind, he can hear his doctor's disapproving voice, scolding him for letting the draft in, but he easily pushes it already letting sleep take him.
(,',,,)~
Natsume woke up the next morning to the same burning feeling in his chest that had been there for the last few days. It didn't hurt as much as it did at first, and he felt everything get lighter when he saw who'd just entered the room to pay him a visit.
At the other side of the room was Tsubasa, his usual cheerful smile plastered on his face. There was, however, an unmistakable look of concern in his eyes, and although he tried to hide it desperately, Natsume knew better. They had been good friends for years, after all, and Natsume - the observant man that he was - had him memorized. Almost.
Refusing to let Natsume sum him up with those crimson eyes of his again, Tsubasa began his way towards the hospital bed, his footsteps making the only noises in the cold room.
Tsubasa croaked, "How are you feeling?" with the tiny voice that stayed behind in his chest along with a mixture of fear and sympathy. However, Natsume only looked at his visitor with a blank stare, because he didn't need any of his pity. He didn't even need him right now.
Tsubasa instantly regretted asking that question, for Natsume always read between the lines, and the question must have seemed offensive to him. However, he did nothing to compensate for that mistake; he did not say sorry, nor did he try to change the topic. Natsume was almost like a younger brother to him - and he knew Natsume felt that way too; he was just too shy to admit it - and he had a right to know how Natsume was feeling. It wasn't pity; it was concern. Natsume had to know the difference between the two.
"What did the doctors say?" Tsubasa asked, realizing his previous question might have been too personal for Natsume.
"I was barely conscious, so you'll have to ask them again," he replied, avoiding eye contact.
Tsubasa cared for Natsume, and Natsume appreciated that; he just didn't know how to show it. Not that he wanted to.
Tsubasa sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair, making the black mess stand even more on end, and glanced towards the window. His attention was soon reverted back to Natsume's face as sunlight leaked through the glass, casting shadows upon the patient's pale cheeks and creating intricate patterns of light and dark across his smooth skin.
Natsume refused to meet his gaze. He couldn't bear to look at him, to see the emotions he knew Tsubasa was trying—and failing—to suppress. But the other man had no intentions of tearing his eyes on him, and he couldn't stare holes at the glass vase on the bedside table.
Slowly, he lifted his head and finally met Tsubasa's eyes.
No one spoke; all there was was the silent exchange of uncertainty and concern between Natsume's cold red eyes and Tsubasa's dark blue ones.
"Listen, Natsume," Tsubasa broke the silence. "There's something you should know."
Before Tsubasa could deliver the bad news, Ruka entered the room. His eyes were red from crying and Natsume wondered how such an accident could have affected his best friend that much.
Ruka had not expected Natsume to be awake by the time he came. His eyes - which he knew were red from crying over Mikan's death - were enough for Natsume to suspect that something had happened. Natsume knew that Ruka wasn't the type to cry that much over his hospitalization - especially since his case wasn't even that serious - and so, Ruka had to make an outright lie.
"What's up?" Natsume asked.
Ruka didn't know if any of their friends had already decided whether or not to deliver the bad news, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Piyo's dead."