Natsuki Seba.

The sounds of a knife cutting through fruit bounce between the white walls of the hospital room. The sweet, slightly sour scent chases away the sterile air that reeks of disinfectant and you're thankful for the little relief it brings. Natsuki hasn't said a single thing ever since the doctor has left. Earlier, he had asked her plenty of questions. How long is the recovery going to take? Will you suffer any long-term repercussions? What should your diet look like? What can he do to help?

He has yet to address you. Your gaze drifts from his face towards his hands, watching him cut up the apple. Those dexterous, quick hands look so clumsy all of a sudden. He's shaking, ever so slightly. “Don't peel them," comes your hushed rasp and that finally gets his attention. Dark eyes look up at you, "You might choke on the peel," your boyfriend mumbles dismissively, causing you to huff and shake your head.

"You nearly died," Natsuki states firmly, putting the knife down and putting the plate with fruit on the little table next to your bed. "Am I supposed to act like everything is alright when I know it's my fault to begin with? The least I can do is make sure you're at least recovering well."