A/N: So, I haven't written anything in forever. I was working on The Doppleganger when I took a detour and wrote this. Unfortunately, this detour also took me straight into a wall. With no means of metaphorically climbing over said metaphorical wall. I digress.
prologue -
When he awoke, his first thought was that he had died and gone to heaven. He was surrounded by white – a blinding white.
His eyes, weary from disuse, took a moment to adapt to the brightness. He squinted behind half-lidded eyes, now realizing that he was in fact, not dead – not quite, anyways. He blinked several times, slowly readjusting his eyes to seeing, to looking. Then, he took a breath, breathing as if he hadn't in so long. It was then he realized that he was breathing into an oxygen mask.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Deep, slow breaths.
His mouth felt dry, his throat raw.
His second thought was that he was lying in a bed, a bed that made his back feel stiff and uncomfortable. He tried to move his arm and was met with an unbelievable soreness. It sent a tingling sensation throughout his entire body – from his toes to the very tips of his fingers – and every fiber, every muscle ached in protest. He winced in discomfort.
His third thought was that his body felt inconceivably heavy, as if an invisible weight sat on his chest, pinning him to the bed. He tried to wiggle his toes and panicked when he couldn't feel them. Having gone numb from being so still, he was relieved when the electric sensation shot from his toes and up his legs to the rest of his body. He then tried to move his fingers. Slowly, he drew his index finger back, feeling the softness of the sheets under him and the pain that shot through every bone in his hand. His fingertip glazed the palm of his hand and instead of flesh, he felt bandages.
It was an odd sensation.
As he lay immobilized, he tried to move his hand. The blanket, which he noticed for the first time, rustled with each of his movements: he lifted it gingerly, aware of the incredible soreness in his arm. He brought it over his thigh, feeling the softness of his hospital gown, and laid it atop his stomach. He groaned in pain, taking deep labored breaths.
A gasp resounded through his ears, and he winced in irritation. His entire body was hyper-sensitive; the slightest sensations sent goose bumps across the planes of his skin.
"…oh my god…"
He took more deep breaths, before turning his head slowly. His tired eyes met equally tired purple orbs. He broke into a weak smile and the red-head ran, collapsing at the side of his bed. The red-head began to sob, gasping and hiccupping as he became overwhelmed with emotion.
"Thank god…thank god..." He croaked in between sobs.
"Yagyuu…"