Between the pages

Chapter 20 Aren't you scared of death?

Gazing out the window, your hand gently rested on top of the open book in your lap. Words felt harder to form lately, and your coughs weren't getting any better. The pain of each one seemed to echo louder in your chest, but you tried to ignore it.

Giyu had already told you to hold back on talking, concerned about how much it seemed to drain you, but your stubborn side never quite listened.

You blankly stared out at the view, the sky clouded over, mirroring the fog in your mind. Then, suddenly, you flinched as a pair of hands covered your eyes. You let out a light chuckle, recognizing the familiar warmth.

"G-Giyuuuuu" you muttered with a grin, feeling a rare sense of comfort from his touch.

He laughed softly, but before you could reply, you coughed violently into your hand, the familiar petals and blood spilling out. Panic washed over his face as he quickly removed his hands from your eyes and gently tilted your chin upward to face him.

"Didn't I tell you to stop talking?" His voice was soft, but the concern was palpable.

You simply smiled, a thin streak of blood seeping from your lips as you glanced away playfully. Giyu's expression shifted to one of frustration, though it was clear he wasn't angry with you. The concern in his eyes remained, more pressing than any frustration could be. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the bathroom to fetch a towel, his steps steady despite the weight of his worry.

You glanced down at your hands pale and trembling, now stained crimson with the petals that had fallen to the cold hospital floor. The contrast of the delicate, fragile petals against the harshness of the blood felt oddly beautiful, yet painful. The sight made your chest tighten—another reminder of the fragility of your body, of the limits that were closing in around you.

Giyu returned and gently wiped the wet towel over your hands, cleaning away the blood and petals, his focus unbroken as he worked to ensure no trace of it remained.

"Giyu..." you started quietly.

"Yes, Y/N?" he responded, not looking up.

You fell silent, unsure of why you'd called his name. It had just slipped out, the words not quite forming anything you wanted to say. You watched him as he cleaned your hands, a soft, steady rhythm to his movements. You wanted to say so many things, but all you could think was how you were being a burden again. How you were needing him, demanding his attention when he had his own life to live.

You watched him, and a gentle smile formed on your lips, one that didn't quite reach your eyes.

I'm being a burden. I'm being needy again. He's spending more time with me than he should...

You blinked a few times, trying to shake off the feeling, but it lingered.

"Thanks..." you whispered softly, your voice barely above a murmur.

He looked up at you, meeting your gaze. His eyes softened, and he sighed, his breath steady. "It's no problem... so don't thank me."

The room filled with silence, and in that quiet space, you both just existed. No words needed to fill the emptiness because nothing more could be said. You both understood the unspoken weight between you—the pressure of time, of knowing what could never happen.

—-----------—

"Hey, Y/N?"

You turned toward him, a slight quiver in your voice. "Yes, Giyu?"

He hesitated, a rare moment of uncertainty in his usually steady demeanor. Then he asked, his voice quiet but sincere, "Aren't you scared of death?"

You paused, the silence between you two heavy as the question hung in the air, the weight of it almost palpable. His gaze held a mix of curiosity and concern, his eyes searching yours for an answer. It caught you off guard, this vulnerability from him, and for a moment, you weren't sure how to respond.

You shook your head slowly, trying to find the right words to express what you were feeling. "No, I'm not scared of death," you said, your voice calm, even though a storm of thoughts raged inside your mind. The idea of death itself didn't frighten you, but what came with it—the process, the loss, the unknowns—was a different matter entirely.

As a bittersweet smile crept onto your lips, you felt the weight of your own words linger between you and him. It was a smile that carried both acceptance and sorrow—an acknowledgment of the truth that, while you weren't afraid of death itself, you feared the way it would take everything from you.

Giyu didn't seem to notice the subtle shift in your expression. His face remained unreadable, but the concern in his eyes was evident. And yet, despite the heaviness of the moment, he chose to dismiss it, to hide from it.

He stood up and made his way toward the door, his movements stiff, almost mechanical. "I'm going to head to work now," he said, the words coming out too easily, too quickly—as though he were trying to convince both you and himself that everything was normal, that this was just another day.

The tension in his voice was barely concealed, and you knew. You knew that he was trying to avoid facing the truth, clinging to his routine as a shield against the inevitable. Maybe he didn't want to acknowledge that time was running out, that his presence here could never be enough to save you. But despite his effort to act like nothing was wrong, the distance between you felt even more palpable now.

You couldn't help but smile softly, though it wasn't as lively as the ones before, it no longer lifted the mood. It felt hollow. "Do you believe in reincarnation...?" you whispered as he reached for the door handle. It didn't sound like it was a question for him, it was your reason why...

He paused, his fingers tightening on the doorknob. The tension was palpable, but he still didn't turn around. He simply shook his head and opened the door, leaving you with the weight of your words—and the uncertainty of the time left between you both.

As soon as the door clicked shut, your smile crumbled. Tears welled up in your eyes, and before you knew it, you were kneeling on the floor, your hands clutching your knees as you tried to steady your breathing.

You weren't scared of death itself, no. It was the idea of dying—the process of slipping away, of losing everything—that terrified you. And you couldn't help but wonder, How would it feel?

You weren't dying, at least that's what you told yourself. But the thought lingered, haunting you in the quiet of the empty room. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, blinking back the tears.

"I'll be fine. I'm not dying... He knows that," you whispered to the empty room, though you weren't sure who you were trying to convince more—yourself or Giyu.