It has been days and months since he's returned to touching the piano keys, yet by every day, where his fingers drop above those notes ー fifty two white, and thirty six black, he finds that not a single moment becomes more familiar than the other.
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After being forced to leave the ward that night, he'd gone home and taken a much-deserved bath to ease his muscles.
The bath was strangely roomful without another person's head crammed beneath his chin, but that wasn't particularly a positive thing.
Warm woolen jumper and those fingerless gloves that extend to his elbows keep his stability free of stress. He is comfortable, taking in the smell of the warm coffee shop across the hospital building. Mocha and cappuccino and all the nice things he doesn't dare take so early in the morning lures him in.
Instead he orders for a cup of simmering milk chocolate, leaning back in his seat.
He's well rested.
He doesn't know what had taken over him to actually get proper sleep. He didn't have time to see the ceiling, or the empty walls, nothing. The instant his head touched the pillow, so did all of him.
The bell above the door chimes, entering two men, father and son, both sharing identical eyes with Rin.
When he sees them walking towards him, the blond straightens his back, putting the mug of chocolate down while a napkin dabs away any cream on his lips, hoping his best that he doesn't seem like he'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed nor anything of similar fashion.
There's a mental list on topics to mention written down within his mind, but the preparation was for naught, as in the end he is not the one who speaks first.
"I refuse to discuss these matters with a child," Her father is quick to the point, cold, and reminds him of nothing like her. "I want the contact information of your parents."
That was it.
No greetings, no formalities, no introductions. Just a pen and a stray sheet of paper tossed his way, as if this meeting was nothing more than a mere triviality in a deeper sea of issues. Like a splash of waves against the hard cliffs by the shore. Yuuma is standing strictly by the side, wondering whether it'd be possible to order a quick coffee before returning long hours by his sister's bedside.
His eyes look nothing but dark circles, inches from leaving reality. The vivid scarlet of his jacket is a love letter of contrast to the white of his skin.
For his credit, he was right in how their father looked nothing less than murder embodied in a middle-aged man. Len is walking barefoot across rocks and seashells hoping not to let his tongue slip, saying anything offensive to their family.
He is still insistent. "Sir, this has nothing to do with anyone else. If we could just talk,"
"Contact information. Now. Your mother's, preferably."
Len bit the inside of his cheek before moving to obey, slowly, at the pace of a sunset refusing to bury beneath the mountaintops.
"My mother isn't.." Len hesitated, paused, then gritted his teeth in the middle of his sentence. It didn't take very long to realise his next choice of words would only sound like an excuse, and wouldn't do any good if he were not to hold it back. "... I'll write down my dad's. And mine."
The scribbles of numbers across the paper is quickly pocketed into the older man's wallet. "He'll hear from me."
"But Sir ー "
"I have said that I am not talking to a boy. Don't let me see you associating with my daughter again."
The bell by the door chimed again, signaling an indignant exit, and Len was forced to stare emptily towards the table. The milk chocolate in his hands was no longer warm.
His shirt is suddenly too thick and he feels every urge to yank it over his head then hurl it across the room.
He is forced to mitigate his anger through clenching his teeth and looking outside the glass window, seeing a little girl push an empty stroller as her older sister tags behind, laughter ringing in the air.
It is strange to, after all these years, finally begin to see other's happiness as a sin. It is fury to see happy families delve in the sun while his tongue feels raw of stone, and his bones like nothing but lead.
There is a tinge of anger lying in it's wake when he realises jealousy has reared it's ugly head within the deepest clench of his heart.
He jumped beneath his skin when he heard an uncomfortable cough demanding for attention. Len turned away from the view beyond the windows to realise that Yuuma had been sitting across from him the past twenty minutes, sipping on dark black coffee across his tongue throughout this time.
"You should be grateful you're not being gut on a string at this very instant." Storming oceans of blue squinted through the daylight. "Half past eight. Nobody will be watching her for an hour."
"What's that got to do with me?"
"Do you want to see her or not?"
Realisation sparked his gaze.
"One hour," Her older brother's face is sour, but as of now, it's the most comforting thing he's seen all day. "Bring over some mint biscuits, too. it's the only thing that can get her calm lately. But one hour is all I'm giving you."
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His phone has been left without battery for longer than the past three days.
He's not sure whether to say it's for better or for worse.
The convenience store is just a few ways off from the train station and he's tempted to board the train, head to school, act as if his life is back on track. But even he knows that's just a fantasy that he'd never truly desire to indulge in.
He wonders whether he has any voicemails awaiting a response as he settles a packet of snacks on the counter and debates between heading home for a quick charge or to just buy a powerbank which he can still use for later. The latter proves to be a more convincing objective, in comparison to any other options he can come up with.
So he waits.
His legs kick back and forth on the stool, chopsticks and instant ramen in hand as he observes the blooming flowers wave at him through the wind.
The indoors are warm. He does not have to step out to know that just a minute of being outside will turn him colder.
He can see two teenagers walking outside, hand in hand, towards the empty bus stop and for no less than an instant he wonders whether they are brother and sister, walking underneath an umbrella in their school uniforms as refuge from the coming rain.
That assumption is cracked to pieces, crushed beneath the heels of his boots when the girl gets on the tips of her toes to smack a kiss against her companion's lips.
Len blinks a few times, wondering whether it was his imagination, and he is not surprised to see them no longer there when his eyes are open again.
Maybe the couple he'd saw... was what he wanted to have.
Perhaps.. a mere figment of it.
His fingers creep up to run over his own mouth, gently, absently, over the pad of his skin.
When he realises what he is doing, his skin rushes all shades of red and he hastily returns to his charging phone and the noodles waiting to be eaten.
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He was expecting to see her so out of place beneath that thin paper blanket, eyes closed shut being the only refuge from the world. He was hoping to have another moment where his fingertips trailed could train down the outline of her lips. He wishes for his nose to take tin every little change of her smell and his ears for the slightest hike of breath to it's gentle falls.
The ceritficate registry form is gone, he notices, and so is the young lady on the bed.
The moon is seen just barely visible beyond the clouds, the night air becoming colder.
The package of sweets in his hand is dropped over the mattress. In a stage of panic, he rushes to the front counter, being careful even in haste that his footsteps were softer than winter's falling snow, before finally coming across a nurse working under the dim light of the ward counter.
"Have you seen the patient on that ー on that bed," His arms gestured backwards. "Right there ー she's young, blonde, about five feet two, I ー "
"It's after visiting hours..."
He realised his way of questioning might've been wrong when he realised she was a different person from the ones tending the past few days. Most likely he was unrecognisable to her, and he seemed nothing more than an odd stranger making a fuss in the middle of the night.
The young man brought his hands up to his nose, breathing in them, trying to rest a frantic chest threatening to burst into the air.
The weight of his bag, bearing down on his shoulders, is heavy. But right now, he feels nothing but the beat of his heart.
His foot is tapping frantically against the ground, thinking of the most reasonable explanation when he finally answers, unable to come up with any, "I know. I'm... her family."
The response is wary, but it comes out all the same. "If I'm not wrong, Miss. Kagamine can be found in the NICU."
"Thank you," He breathed. "Thanks."
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Only one person is allowed entry at most, so he stays by the window once more, seeing the way she is bent on her knees, a hand poking through that hole in the glass.
She catches his eye when she looks up, and when he offers her a smile, she hastily turns away.
Her gaze is softer when it lands on the infant beneath her.
Her lips move, slowly, softly, and despite him not being able to hear, he has no doubt that she is singing a rose-tinted lullaby.
It was fine evening, it was peaceful, where his cheek rested against a palm hoping not to fall asleep as he indulged into the sight of such a little exchange. It was then that he noticed she left the room without a second glance, then crossed his path to head into the empty corridor outside.
She walked ahead, faster than a moth's flutter, uncaring whether or not the pain within her muscles begged her for rest.
Each moment she stood back, he was hurrying his pace, and it rose the panic in her feet.
There was no doubt he'd be able to catch up to her if he'd really tried and she had the smallest inkling of doubt that he was purposefully making slow strides to encourage her runs into becoming faster, but her stability is wobbling and it feels like her seeping energy is threatening her just inches away from a collapse.
When she's lost in her thoughts, she hadn't realised the mindlessness had caused her to run straight into a body, where her forehead slammed into his chest.
His hand grasped her wrist before she could make any more attempts to flee.
Right now he needs to talk, and he refuses anything else to shoot out of his hold and head the wrong way.
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It's the latest they've ever been outside together, he notices. Though perhaps it's because by now he can no longer remember what time it truly was when they returned from the Moon festival, nor can he remember any more events prior where they could have an actual, proper conversation;
Nobody chasing them down, the shine from the night skies casting so peacefully, such a pretty glow on her skin.
The glistening lake beyond them is illuminated by streetlights and dangling lanterns in former celebrations of the New Year. The hospital grounds is rather pretty, he admits, when it is dark and nobody else is around.
He misses hearing the bells of her laugh.
He craves hearing her laugh. Right now, more than anything.
The quirks of his lips turned upwards as he brushed the golden bangs of her hair behind an ear.
"How did it feel when you, you know, put your hand through the..." His hand is still wrapped tightly around her wrist, and her body is crouched on the ground, looking around the grass for absent pebbles. "The glass cube.."
Len cursed himself for suddenly feeling the urge to go through a dictionary.
"They're called isolettes." Her voice is blunt without emotion.
"Right. That. She was put on a ventilator the last time I checked." He dropped the weak smile he'd been managing, only when he noticed she had no plans to answer his initial question. Her silence is enough for him to know the atmosphere as time to change the conversation into something she might be more comfortable discussing, ".. I realised that the form's missing. Did you ask for a new one?"
"My dad already sent it in."
She brushed the dirt off her gown, wrapping her free arm around her body as refuge from the cold.
He is quick into jumping for a new topic, "Promise you won't run away if I let go of your hand."
It's enough to even get her in surprise. "What?"
It isn't much of a requirement for him to ask, when the minutes they'd spent with her limping just to get to the grounds was wasteful enough.
He wants to offer her to ride on his back, but even he is aware that would be pushing too far.
"Rin, promise me. Just ten seconds, promise me."
".. yes, fine. Not that I've ever broken a promise, anyway. Unlike some people." Her acceptance was almost taken back when she registered the gesture of moving his arms down to the hem of his jumper. Her eyes rounded to the size of her moon, fingers clenching onto his shoulders instead.
Her voice rushed to demand the reason of taking off his clothes.
He squinted at the younger blonde warily, creating distance between them by pushing her body an inch apart before tossing the cloth into her own arms.
When she gaped towards him, awestruck, he had to manually move her arms through the hole of those sleeves and only get a reaction after her head resurfaced from the wool of the crimson jumper. "The hospital blanket is thin, isn't it?"
Her nose wrinkled towards him. "No. I don't need... something from you."
It is not a light jibe, or a tease, or anything that's meant to build guilt within him. Kagamine Rin is honest with her words, building up the walls he'd once so desperately broke. Her voice is fury and anger and despise has long been bottled up into something that can only be read as pure indifference, which hurts him more than anything he could understand.
He fails to.
Len flashed his wrist upwards for his eyes to see that leather band, catching the time.
It's nine thirty sharp. He should be getting home soon. It's been long overdue since the promised time he's allowed to spend with her.
When Len looks up, he notices that there is a strong glare directed onto them from one of the building's windows.
His throat has been dry the past few days, and it still is, whenever he speaks. But he refuses to let that quieten him. Not when this could be the last time he gets to speak to her.
Not when this could be the last time he gets to run his hand down the curve of her waist, see the blues of her eyes. ".. your family must be... looking for you."
Although she avoids meeting his gaze, she makes no effort to take his jumper off her body. It coats a blanket of warmth over her frail body, and she is not stubborn enough to refuse comfort when it is handed over to her so carelessly.
Her free hand is resting over her stomach, brows still stressed together as if her soul may be here, but her mind somewhere else.
Instead of leaving hurriedly, she tosses a pebble sideways over the water of the lake, and her sigh reeks just slightly of victory when, for once, it makes more than three skips above the water.
She does speak, eventually, though it is softer than he's ever heard her before. "It is a pretty name.. so we went with it. Just thought you'd ought to know."
"Hm?"
Her legs move back, towards the small side entrance of the hospital, and when he looks at her with all the confusion in the world, she has no choice but to push the stress of her shoulders with a sigh. "Mirai."
i was concerned about the error mentioned so i went onto the app to clarify for myself, only to find out about the bug? that's definitely an error on ffn's end and not mine. sorry about that :( i've updated the document a few times trying to show this chapter.
it is my writing though! except that was a draft written about two years back and supposed to be published before this fic lol (it's also a rinxlen) also might have to mention that i'm down with a really bad fever atm! between nosebleeds and math assignments ill try my best not to put this on another hiatus.