Chihiro lay restlessly in his bed. The shape of his body made the tossing and turning he did half of the night leave an indent on the bedsheet.
It was a warmer night, although there was nothing compared to the warmth from someone's body heat, someone who wasn't there.
The white heater in the room, erected so closely to the wall, watched him unable to sleep silently. He switched on the bedside lamp, and then switched it off again. On and off, on and off. It was just like how his heart was like a tumultuous battle, one second he assumed Frost Flower was treated as humanely as possible, but the next he remembered his man had more enemies than half of the world combined, probably.
