Shadows Heart

The hospital feels colder without Janus. The routines are the same—nurses checking on us, Sao sketching in her notebook, the machines humming softly in the background—but something essential is missing. It's like the glue holding everything together dissolved, leaving only cracks behind.

And Sao… she's slipping through those cracks.

I see it in the way she stares out the window for too long, her eyes searching for something that isn't there. I hear it in the quiet sighs when she thinks no one's listening. She misses him, even though she won't say it outright.

I don't blame her. I miss him too, though I'd rather tear my own tongue out than admit it.

She's in the common room again today, curled up on the couch with her sketchpad balanced on her knees. Her pencil moves quickly, her eyes flicking back and forth between the page and some invisible scene in her mind.

I watch her from the doorway for a moment, my fingers twitching at my sides. I want to say something, but every time I open my mouth lately, it feels like the wrong thing comes out.

Eventually, I step inside, letting the door close softly behind me. Sao doesn't look up, but I know she knows I'm there. She always knows.

"What are you drawing?" I ask, keeping my voice steady.

"Nothing," she says quickly, tilting the sketchpad away from me.

"It's never nothing," I say, moving closer.

She glances up at me, her eyes wary. "Oriel, don't."

I stop mid-step, my chest tightening. "Why not?"

"Because it's mine," she says firmly, pulling the sketchpad closer to her chest.

I stare at her, the words catching in my throat. Something about the way she says it—like she's putting a wall between us—makes my stomach churn.

"We used to share everything," I say quietly.

"That was different," she replies, her voice softer now. "We were kids."

I laugh bitterly. "We're not exactly adults now."

Sao doesn't respond. She just looks down at her sketchpad, her pencil frozen in her hand.

The silence stretches between us, heavy and uncomfortable. I hate it. I hate that Janus left and took all the warmth with him, leaving just this… emptiness.

"Sao," I say, taking a step closer.

"What?" she says, her voice sharper than I expect.

"Are you mad at me?"

Her head snaps up, her eyes wide. "What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?"

"Because you keep pushing me away," I say, the words spilling out before I can stop them.

"I'm not pushing you away," she says, her voice quieter now.

"Yes, you are," I insist, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "Ever since Janus left, you've been acting like… like I'm not enough for you."

"That's not true," she says, but her voice wavers, and I can see the guilt flicker across her face.

"Then why won't you talk to me?" I ask, my voice rising. "Why do you always act like you're somewhere else?"

"I don't know, Oriel!" she snaps, standing up suddenly. "Maybe because I'm scared, okay? Maybe because I don't know what to do without him here!"

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut.

"You think I don't feel the same?" I say, my voice shaking. "You think I don't wake up every day wondering if he's ever coming back?"

Sao's expression softens, but it only makes me angrier. I don't want her pity.

"Oriel—"

"No," I interrupt, stepping closer. "You don't get to act like you're the only one who's lost something. I lost him too."

She stares at me, her eyes filling with tears. "I know," she whispers. "I know, Oriel. But I'm still here. We both are. And we're supposed to be helping each other, not tearing each other apart."

Her words linger in the air, cutting through my anger like a knife. I take a step back, running a hand through my hair.

"I don't want to lose you too," I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You won't," she says, her tone steady despite the tears in her eyes.

"You say that," I mutter, shaking my head. "But what if you leave? What if one day, you decide I'm not worth staying for?"

"Oriel," she says, stepping closer. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You don't know that," I say, my voice trembling.

"Yes, I do," she insists, reaching out to take my hand. Her grip is warm, steady, and it feels like the first solid thing I've touched in days. "I'm not Janus. I'm not leaving you."

For a moment, I let myself believe her. I let myself cling to the idea that maybe, just maybe, Sao means it.

But in the back of my mind, that voice is still there, whispering that everyone leaves eventually.

And when they do, I'll be alone again.