When he slept, it was as if nothing was wrong with his body. He looked whole again, almost. Orga watched him, and something akin to physical pain gathered itself in his chest.
Mikazuki was sprawled childishly across the cot, having unceremoniously deposited himself there while Orga delegated working shifts to the crew. He'd shifted, since then, and it was all Orga could do to surpress a rare smile.
Mika's coat was twisted around his frame and hair sprawled across his working arm, which his head was propped upon like a pillow. His other arm dangled uselessly off of the bed, but who was to say, in this moment, that it was immobile? It was just an arm.
His eyes were shut, but in a different way than when Mika just closed them. Orga leaned against the doorframe. Mika's face was slack, but softer than the sort of slackness one tended to see with the dead. He looked like a child moreso than he already they all were.
Orga despised to admit it, but they all were just children.
A thin dog trotted confidently into the tent, and Orga finally let himself smile, even though it stretched his face in ways that felt foreign and wrong. Mika had taken a liking to the dirty mutt earlier, in a quiet way as he tended to do. In turn, it had taken to seeking him out whenever possible while they were in the area, intent on being petted.
The mottled, bedraggled creature approached Mika, friendly, and sniffed quietly at his hand. Seeming to make up its mind, it shoved its nose into Mika's face and licked him wetly on the cheek, tail beating back and forth.
Selfish dog, waking him up for nothing.
Mika's eyes flicked open instantly, blearily taking in the snout in his face, and the warm breath close upon his skin. Orga saw confusion momentarily flicker through his good eye.
If Mikazuki's arm wasn't paralyzed, he might've snapped the dog's neck on instinct. As it was, though, once Mika realized it was a friend, he relaxed, pulling his arm out from under his head and stretching it towards the mutt like a peace offering. There was still a haze of sleep hanging over his eyes as he stroked the dog's ears, gentler than Orga had ever seen him.
He hadn't noticed Orga yet, content to run his hands along the dog's ratty fur. Maybe it was a good thing. He deserved the quiet and the peace of this moment.
Orga slid from the room without a sound, the smile slipping from his lips piece by piece until all that was left an expression of stone, and a soul full of ice.