The common room is different at night. It's quieter, darker, like the shadows have grown longer and the walls have moved closer. Janus is asleep in his bed across the hall, his breathing steady and soft, the way it always is when he's dreaming.
But I can't sleep. My legs feel restless, and my head is too full of thoughts I can't untangle. I push the blanket off and slip out of bed, careful not to tug too hard on the IV line attached to my arm. The wheels of the IV pole creak softly as I guide it to the door, pausing for a moment to listen.
The hallway is empty, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound. I move quickly, slipping into the common room like a shadow.
Oriel is already there.
He's sitting in the chair by the window, one leg draped over the other, his gaze fixed on the city outside. He doesn't look at me when I walk in, but I know he hears me.
"You couldn't sleep either," I say, more a statement than a question.
Oriel finally turns his head, his eyes catching the dim light from the window. "Didn't feel like it," he says simply.
I hesitate for a moment before sitting on the couch across from him, tucking my legs under me. "What are you thinking about?"
Oriel doesn't answer right away. He leans back in the chair, his hands resting on the armrests like a king surveying his kingdom. "The usual."
"That's not an answer," I say, tilting my head.
He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "What do you want me to say, Sao? That I'm thinking about the stars? About how unfair everything is? About how we're stuck here, waiting for something that's never going to happen?"
I frown. "You don't know that."
"Don't I?" Oriel's voice is sharp now, cutting through the quiet like a blade. "Janus talks about hope like it's this magic thing that'll fix everything. But it won't. We're not getting better, Sao. We're not leaving this place."
His words hit me like a punch to the stomach, but I don't let him see it. "Why do you always have to be so… so mean?" I snap.
Oriel leans forward, his eyes locking onto mine. "I'm not being mean. I'm being honest. Someone has to be."
I glare at him, my hands curling into fists on my lap. "Janus doesn't lie to us."
"No," Oriel agrees, his voice softer now. "He just lets you believe in things that aren't real."
I don't know what to say to that. I look away, my eyes settling on the vending machine in the corner, its dim light flickering like a heartbeat.
"You don't have to stay," Oriel says after a moment, his tone unreadable.
"I don't want to stay," I reply, standing up abruptly.
I don't look back as I leave the room, but I can feel Oriel's eyes on me the whole way.
The hallway feels colder on the way back to my room. My slippers make soft shuffling noises against the tile floor, and the IV pole creaks every few steps. I want to slam the door behind me when I get to my room, but I don't. The night is already heavy enough, and loud noises always bring the nurses running.
I climb back into bed, pulling the blankets over me, but I can't get comfortable. My head is spinning with everything Oriel said. His words echo in my mind, sharp and cruel, like they've planted themselves there to stay.
"We're not leaving this place," he'd said. I press my eyes shut, trying to block it out, but it's no use. My chest feels tight like there's a band around it that's slowly getting tighter. I rub my hands together, trying to focus on something else, something calm.
The monitor next to my bed beeps steadily, and for once, it doesn't feel like a lullaby. It feels wrong. Too fast. Too loud.
And then my body starts to feel wrong too.
It starts in my hands—this strange, electric feeling that races up my arms. My fingers curl involuntarily, and I try to sit up, but my body doesn't want to listen. My head jerks back against the pillow, and suddenly everything feels far away like I'm not really in my body anymore.
I hear the monitor start screaming. The beeping turns into one long, shrill sound, and my chest feels like it's on fire.
Somewhere in the haze, I hear footsteps. Janus's voice cuts through the noise, sharp and worried. "Sao? Sao, can you hear me?"
I can't answer. My jaw feels like it's locked, and my body is shaking uncontrollably. Janus's face comes into view, his expression a mix of panic and determination.
"Hold on," he says, more to himself than to me. "I've got you."
The monitor is still wailing, and I can see Janus fumbling with the buttons, trying to make it stop. He grabs the IV pole and adjusts the line, but nothing seems to be working.
"Come on," he mutters under his breath. "Don't do this. Not now."
I feel a sharp jerk as my body spasms again, and Janus turns back to me. His hands are steady now, despite the chaos. He checks the machines, muttering something about a loose connection.
And then he does something I'd never expect. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ballpoint pen.
"This better work," he says, his voice tight. He unscrews the pen, pulling out the spring and the ink tube. With quick, precise movements, he uses the pieces to adjust a connection on the monitor, twisting the spring into place like it's the most natural thing in the world.
The shrill sound from the monitor cuts off suddenly, replaced by a steady, rhythmic beep. Janus exhales sharply, his shoulders slumping for a moment before he turns back to me.
"You're okay, Sao," he says, his voice softer now. "It's over."
My body feels heavy like all my muscles have turned to jelly. I can hear the monitor's steady beeping, and the tightness in my chest is finally easing. Janus stays by my side, one hand resting on mine, his touch grounding me.
"You scared me," he says quietly, brushing a strand of hair away from my face.
I manage a weak smile, my voice barely a whisper. "Sorry."
Janus shakes his head. "Don't be. Just… don't do that again, okay?"
I nod, even though I know it's not a promise I can keep.
The room is quiet now, the chaos fading into stillness. Janus stays with me until I fall asleep, his hand never letting go of mine.