There is a hopeless dread that feels remarkably heavy against the suffocating darkness. It sits complacently in the narrow gaps of her heart and crawls its way into diverging blood vessels.
Hours into the night, Rin is lying stiffly on the very soft mattress that is oddly rock solid against her side.
The broken, hysterical tears have long dried into trails of sticky salt on her face.
She is completely devoid of the very thing that makes her human. Her body is now an empty living vessel reminiscent of a comatose state.
And only when she hears the soft tapping sounds against her door does she slowly stir from the vegetative plight.
"Rin?"
She hears his muffled voice from behind the door. A pause, then,
"Rin, can I come in?" He continues.
She watches the handle turn with such subtle avidity, her nervousness escalates.
Obito peers through the small opening. There is a sense of hesitancy that emanates from his position as he awaits for consent.
She sits up fully and drags the sheets around her with a nod so passive, it could have been easily missed. But Obito's astuteness is unsurpassable.
He gently widens the door and tentatively steps through.
"What is it?" She asks lowly.
The look she gives still indicates her resentment, and instantly, he acknowledges it.
"I…" his watch averts to the ground, "wanted to see if you are okay."
He briefly sends her a puzzled look before returning his gaze to the wooden floorboards.
There is silence, a stillness only suspicion can penetrate. Rin knows him and he will not be here unless he genuinely cares for her wellbeing.
"I could be better," she answers grimly.
He is looking troubled.
"Um…" again he is tentative, as if there is something he wants to do but is unsure of its repercussions.
In that small moment of contemplation, his face contorts into concern and composure.
"I thought I'd give this to you," he continues.
He places a small blue jar on the bedside table before stepping a fair distance from her.
"It's-It's…you were unwell so I thought this might help you feel better," he says tensely.
There is so much apprehension in his tone, Rin can almost feel the discomfort resonating somewhere inside her.
"Thank you," she says shortly.
She does not question the contents. She is certain that it is an elixir to relieve her ailment.
He stands there for several moments before shuffling awkwardly from the room.
And in the fleeting seconds when she looks to him, their gazes meet. It may be the darkened room, but she sees an outpour of loving emotions that lines his features.
"Take care," he says.
When he disappears, the automatic deluge of sensations unravel.
She will not deny it, if there is anything she needs, it is the comfort of his security. She misses him dearly. Every part of her yearns for the warmth of his embrace and the sweet, loving feel of his kisses.
His earlier presence evokes another host of strange emotions she cannot comprehend. It originates from deep within, perhaps closer towards the sweet existence of a new life they have made together. It reaches for him in the most desperate of ways, like a gnawing attachment that makes her insides rattle with grief and lament.
Only the physical transformations of her internal manages to sync with the rational part of her mind. She is acutely aware of the bodily differences, the frantic changes and readjustments, all to accommodate the purity of a new life.
But together with such beauty is the manifestation of her indispose state. The dark-grey lines are a stark reminder of the motherhood she will never have.
The contradictory state sends another wave of agony throughout. The loss is so real, she is mourning for something that is still alive.
"Obito…" her whispers are tear-filled and empty, "please come back."