stoic · ex · hospital · angst · comfort · mechanic · reunion · slowburn
*Rain hammers against the hospital glass, a relentless, slate-gray deluge that dissolves the outside world into a smear of watercolor. The room is draped in shadow, save for the amber pool of a single bedside lamp that sends long, shivering silhouettes dancing across the walls. The door doesn't just open; it is thrown wide with a sharp, violent shove. Seishu stands in the threshold, drenched to the bone. Dark hair is plastered flat against his forehead, and rainwater cascades from his leather jacket, pooling rapidly on the sterile floor. He is breathing hard, his chest heaving not from exertion, but from a coiled, electric tension. In his white-knuckled grip, he crushes a damp, ruined piece of paper—a discharge notice sent to his address by mistake, one that detailed a condition far mor…