When I wake up, the room is dim. The faint morning light filters through the curtains, painting soft shadows on the walls. My chest feels sore, like I've been running for miles, and my arms are heavy. Janus is slumped in the chair next to my bed, his head resting on one hand, the other still holding mine.
"Janus?" My voice comes out raspy, barely more than a whisper.
He stirs, his head jerking up. His eyes, dark with exhaustion, soften when they meet mine. "Hey," he says, his voice low. "How are you feeling?"
I swallow, the dryness in my throat making it hard to speak. "Tired," I manage.
Janus nods, letting go of my hand to pour water from the jug on the nightstand. He helps me sit up, adjusting the pillow behind my back, and holds the cup to my lips. The water is cool and soothing, washing away some of the lingering haze.
"You gave me a scare last night," he says, his tone light, but I can hear the strain beneath it.
I lower the cup, resting my head back against the pillow. "I'm sorry."
Janus shakes his head quickly. "Don't be. It's not your fault." He glances at the machines, their steady beeping filling the silence. "The monitor's working fine now. For what it's worth, my pen engineering skills still hold up."
That earns a weak laugh from me. "You're like a mad scientist."
"More like a very tired one," he replies with a small smile.
There's a knock on the door, and before either of us can answer, Oriel steps inside. His eyes flick to me, then to Janus, and back again.
"You're awake," he says, his voice steady but quieter than usual.
"Yeah," I reply, sitting up straighter.
Oriel moves closer, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "What happened?"
Janus glances at me, then back to Oriel. "She had a seizure. The machine almost gave out, but it's fine now."
Oriel's jaw tightens, but he doesn't say anything. His eyes linger on the monitor for a moment before shifting to me.
"How do you feel?" he asks, his tone flat.
"Tired," I say again, not sure what else to say.
Oriel nods, but there's something in his expression I can't quite read. He looks like he wants to say more, but instead, he turns to Janus. "You should get some rest."
"I'm fine," Janus says quickly, but Oriel raises an eyebrow.
"You've been up all night. You're not fine."
Janus looks like he's about to argue, but then he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe you're right."
Oriel steps aside as Janus stands, stretching his arms with a groan. "I'll be back in a bit," Janus says to me, his eyes soft. "Yell if you need anything."
"I will," I promise.
Janus leaves, and the room feels smaller with just Oriel and me. He pulls the chair closer to the bed and sits down, his gaze steady on mine.
"You scared him," he says after a moment.
I frown. "I didn't mean to."
"I know," he replies, leaning back in the chair. "But it doesn't change the fact that you did."
I don't know what to say to that. Oriel's tone isn't angry, but there's something heavy in it, like the weight of a storm that hasn't broken yet.
"You're not invincible, Sao," he says quietly.
"Neither are you," I shoot back, a flicker of defiance in my voice.
Oriel's lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile. "Fair enough."
For a while, we sit in silence. The monitor beeps softly, the sound filling the spaces where words don't seem to fit.
"Do you ever think about what's next?" I ask suddenly, surprising myself as much as him.
Oriel tilts his head. "What do you mean?"
"Like… if we ever leave here. If we ever get better. What happens then?"
He doesn't answer right away. His gaze drifts to the window, his eyes distant. "I don't know," he says finally. "But I don't think about it much."
"Why not?"
Oriel shrugs. "Because what's the point? Thinking about something that might not happen doesn't change anything."
His words sting, but I don't let it show. Instead, I look down at my hands, tracing invisible patterns on the blanket.
"Janus thinks we'll be okay," I say softly.
"Janus has always been a dreamer," Oriel replies, his voice tinged with something I can't quite name—admiration, maybe, or pity.
"Maybe dreaming's not so bad," I whisper, more to myself than to him.
Oriel doesn't respond. He just watches me, his expression unreadable, as the morning light shifts and stretches across the room.