𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝.
❝ in which you piece together the fragments of your past...
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"Room service for the fellow liability of the group."
You could have sworn Kita cracked a smile when you pranced into the room, hands clutched around a small tray of chicken soup and microwaved rice.
He lifted himself off the chalky sheets, strength noticeably returning after a long night (and morning) of uninterrupted sleep. His complexion had improved too, finally regaining the colour in his lips and cheeks, though the fading circles under his eyes indicated the need for more rest.
"So we obviously found the kitchen, and Osamu whipped up some soup for you." You said as you laid the tray on the bedside table next to him and propped yourself at the foot of his bed, "I was informed to make sure you consume every last drop."
"Thank you, Y/N. Tell Osamu I appreciate it too."
You smiled, watching him slowly dig in.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better," He responded.
"Good, good."
You allowed him to slowly eat, choosing to divert your attention to the ambiance of the setting sun.
"How about you?"
"Hm?" You were thrown off by his sudden question, "What do you mean?"
"You don't have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable. But I'm referring to what happened back at the base three days ago."
