Chapter Twelve

As they walked down the hallway, it seemed quiet. Too quiet for Houjun as he trailed behind Kourin, who moved with such urgency that he almost smiled, because he knew why she was hurrying, and what it meant. Hikou would not be losing his girlfriend anytime soon. Thoughts of love made him swallow a lump in his throat, but he couldn't dwell on it. They reached the door, painted a warm pink, and he reached forward and grasped the cool metal bar, pushing it open.

The cool touch of the air-conditioner greeted them, hot as they were from rushing to the hospital, and Houjun shivered involuntarily as Kourin slowed, her footsteps making their hesitant path to the single bed that was covered slightly by pastel blue curtains, curtains that rustled as she moved closer and pulled them open. He walked forward, his hands slipping into his pockets as he stood slightly behind Kourin, looking down at the sleeping figure on the bed.

He looked barely a man, lying asleep there, burrowed under the cotton blankets, his hair sticking up in places. But Houjun focused on Hikou's face, pale and waxen, lips slightly parted, appearing to barely just breathe, and his heart tightened as he stumbled forward and took a cold hand in his own. Kourin moved to the other side of the bed, where, seated on two chairs and fast asleep, were Hikou's parents, whom had been hidden by the curtains. She gently stepped over their feet, and went to the head of the bed, where her hand rose and covered the sleeping man's brow, tears already beginning to build and glisten in her eyes.

Houjun looked away. Now that they had found Hikou, there were no more excuses for the trepidation and hollow fear inside, overshadowing his earlier determination.

"I'll go out for a while," he whispered to Kourin, who nodded absently to him and continued brushing the curls back from Hikou's brow. He retreated and backed out the door, his hand moving to the cell phone in his pocket. He flipped the cover open, scrolled down the list of names, and then stared at the familiar number, hesitating.

What am I waiting for? I want Genrou back. It was a mistake, what he saw, and I'm sure he'll understand. I'll just call him. God…I need to talk to him so badly. I want to clear this mess up.

I hate feeling like this.

With that thought, he jabbed the numbers, and, bringing the phone to his ear, waited unconsciously with bated breath as the line began to ring on the other side. He'll understand, I know he will. But it seems like I've always been hurting him…damn, if I were he, I would have run off too, wouldn't I?

His thoughts were interrupted when the phone was picked up. "Hello?" he blurted, gripping the phone tighter. "Genrou, I've got to talk to you—"

"Who is this?"

The voice was foreign, and distinctly female. His blood ran cold. Had anything happened to Genrou? He realized the voice had continued talking, and he forced his attention back to what it said.

"—no longer works here, sir. Is there any message I could forward?"

He went blank for a moment. Genrou no longer worked there? Had he quit?

"May I know where he's gone?" He didn't realize he had spoken until the voice chuckled.

"I'm afraid he wanted his forwarding posting to be kept quiet, but if you are a client or patient of his, then you can refer to me. I take over all his cases. Sir?"

He hung up.