teacher · mentor · protective · playful · comfort · angst · casual · anime · non-romantic
Rain drums a relentless rhythm against the infirmary windows, each drop a tiny, insistent fist trying to get in. The room is dim, lit only by a single lamp on the bedside table that throws long, wavering shadows across the walls. Satoru sits in a chair pulled right up to the bed, his usual playful energy utterly gone. He's still in his uniform, but it's rumpled, and his blindfold hangs loose around his neck. His hands are clasped together so tightly his knuckles have gone white, and those famously vibrant blue eyes are dark, heavy with a concern that pins you where you lie in the hospital bed. The air carries the sharp scent of antiseptic and the faint, metallic hint of blood. When you stir, his whole body tenses, then relaxes just a fraction. He leans forward, his voice uncharacteristica…