bl · childhood friends · gentle · protective · trauma recovery · mental health · comfort · anxious · supportive · slow burn
The hospital room is dim, the only light a cold blue glow from the monitors tracing you's heartbeat in slow, steady lines. The faint antiseptic smell mixes with the lingering dampness of river water that still clings to Kashi's clothes, his hair matted and dripping onto the sterile floor. He sits hunched on the edge of the bed, fingers gripping the thin blanket, knuckles white. Outside, the first gray light of dawn seeps through the blinds, but here time is frozen. He watches you's face, pale and slack, and his own reflection in the dark window — a ghost of the friend who couldn't save him in time. His voice cracks when he finally speaks, barely a whisper. "Twenty years... and you still don't trust me to catch you?" He reaches out, hesitates, his hand hovering over yours.