We're Different. | The Other Uchiha ✓ (Boruto)

Where the Light Breaks Through

The world was quiet.

Not in the peaceful, lulling way of a village at night, but in the heavy, aching silence of a place that had forgotten how to breathe.

In the hospital room, the dim light of the moon spilled across the floor, washing everything in soft silver and shadows.

Machines hummed low and steady at Y/n's bedside, blinking monitors keeping track of the fragile rhythm of her borrowed heartbeat.

Boruto stood just inside the doorway, hesitant, like a ghost that wasn't sure if it was allowed to haunt this place.

He hadn't planned to come.

He told himself it was pointless, that she wouldn't wake up, that there was nothing he could do.

But somehow, his feet had carried him here anyway, through the empty corridors, past the sleeping nurses, until he was standing here, staring at the girl who had once smiled at him like he mattered.

Y/n lay motionless under the thin sheets, her face too pale, her lashes unmoving.
But to him, she still looked stubborn.

Still looked like she could wake up any second and make fun of him for worrying too much.

Boruto stepped closer, the soles of his shoes barely making a sound against the tile.

He reached out slowly, fingers trembling slightly in the moonlight, and brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear

His hand hovered there for a moment, afraid to touch, afraid to break something too fragile.

"Idiot," he whispered so softly it wasn't even a word, just a breath.

And as if the sound of his voice had found some secret thread still tying her to the waking world, Y/n's fingers twitched.

Boruto froze, heart slamming against his ribs.

Slowly, agonisingly, her eyelids fluttered.

Her breath hitched once, catching painfully in her throat, before smoothing out again.

Her eyes opened, barely, just slivers of colour, but they opened.

And the first thing she saw through the haze of confusion and pain was the blurred outline of someone standing beside her.

A figure she knew without knowing.

Warmth.

Light.

"...Boruto?" she rasped, the word almost soundless.

Boruto smiled, small and aching, and stepped back into the shadows.

Before Mitsuki or anyone else could catch him there, he slipped out into the hall, his heart thundering with something he couldn't name.

Something too big, too painful, too much.

He didn't look back.

- ☆ -

Inside the room, Y/n struggled to lift her heavy eyelids again.

Everything hurt.

Every breath scraped like sandpaper through her chest.

She blinked slowly, the world tilting into focus just as the door swung open again and Mitsuki rushed in, the nurse trailing behind him with wide, startled eyes.

"Y/n—!" Mitsuki's voice broke halfway through her name, his entire face flooding with relief.

He was at her side in a blink, his hands hovering uncertainly over hers like he was afraid she might disappear again.