A/N: This is from the POV of Shunsui, just so you know. And I think I made them a tad bit OOC. Sigh, it's always a challenge to keep the characters, well, in character. Let me know what you think, reviews are much appreciated!
I blinked and rubbed a hand over my sleep-encrusted eyes. I shifted and turned to lie on my side, wondering what woke me up. Sweeping a hand down the soft cotton of the bed sheet in front of me, I stared at the warm, empty spot. All thoughts of sleep fled from my mind.
Where was he?
I rose up slightly, leaning on an elbow. A glance at the digital clock on the bedside table told me it was just past three in the morning. Tossing aside the blanket, I padded out of the room and down the darkened hallway. A silver of light shone out from underneath the bathroom door and I headed there. The smell of acidic vomit and blood reached my nose and I hurriedly pushed the unlocked door open. The unconscious body of my boyfriend on the tiled floor and his pale face, even paler than his usual shade, sent spikes of fear up my spine and the fine hair on my neck stood up.
The rest of the night was a blur as I somehow got us dressed and drove to the nearest hospital. A doctor examined him immediately; there weren't many people in the lobby, but I was surprised to still see some given that it was in the middle of the night.
The chair I was sitting on was small and uncomfortable, creaking ominously as I shifted to relieve some of the ache on my butt. I glanced at the sleeping form of Juushirou on the hospital bed beside me, the white pristine blanket pulled over his body, moving slightly as he breathed. The colour had returned to his face after the doctor had given him an injection and hooked him up to an IV. I rubbed my hands over his that I was holding, warming up his chilled, slender fingers.
I felt a slight tremor run through his fingers and I quickly looked up at his face. Familiar green eyes blinked open, dazed, then alert as they flickered to the side to look at me. His hand tightened around mine and he gave a slight smile, almost resigned in its nature.
"The hospital?" he muttered softly.
I nodded, smoothing a hand over his forehead and brushing his white hair back. "How are you feeling?"
He turned his head into my hand, closing his eyes. "I'm fine. Just a little tired."
"Rest. We'll go back in the morning." I rubbed my thumb over his cheek, his skin smooth and cool.
He opened his eyes at that, not looking at me and saying, "It is morning now, isn't it?" Glancing at the clock on the opposite wall, he continued in a worried and subdued voice, "It's almost five and you have work later. Go back first and get some sleep; I'll be fine by myself."
"Don't worry about it. I took the day off," I said, trying to keep the admonishing tone out of my voice. I hated when he did this, but I can't blame him for feeling this way, I would have done the same myself.
He turned apologetic eyes on me and I knew what was coming next.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, echoing the other times he apologised when something like this happened, when he thought he had inconvenienced me because of his illness.
I sighed, unable to keep in the frustrated exhale at my exasperating lover. I hated when he felt guilty over his long-standing illness, which was something he couldn't control. But it was also a part of him that made me fall in love with him; his never-ending compassion and consideration for others.
I withdrew my hand from his face and said firmly, "Sleep. I'm not leaving this hospital without you. And how many times have I told you not to apologise over this?"
He gave a cheeky grin at that, his eyes finally lighting up again. "As many as I did so?"
At my raised eyebrow, he quickly shut his eyes and said, "Okay, okay! I'm sleeping!" A moment later however, he tugged at my hand and peeked at me with a single eye, asking, "Come up here with me?"
My weary face broke out into a grin at his childish and needy tone I so rarely heard from him. I squeezed his hand back and told him to scoot over.
We settled down quickly on the single hospital bed clearly not designed for two, my arm around his body and his fingers digging into the front of my shirt. I could tell he was exhausted, his breathing and heartbeat quickly slowing down to a steady and familiar rhythm. He was fast sleep in a matter of minutes. His warm breath against my neck made me drowsy as well and I closed my eyes, resting my head against his.
This will happen again, I'm sure. His illness will take over him despite the pills, I would have to call off work to be with him, he would feel guilty and apologise, and I would berate him lightly for doing so.
But right now, in this moment, he was sleeping soundly in my arms and there was no place I'd rather be but here.
All was well.
End.