Between the pages

Chapter 27 Passing Seasons

The hospital's garden felt like another world, a sanctuary amidst the sterile, unyielding walls of the hospital. The soft autumn breeze brushed through the trees, sending the last few golden leaves drifting to the ground in a slow, swirling dance. The faint smell of earth and crisp air mixed with the faint fragrance of flowers, offering a peaceful reprieve from the hospital's usual, cold, sterile atmosphere. You sat on the bench, the warmth of the sun bathing your face, while Giyu stood behind you, his hands delicately working through your hair. 

His touch was gentle, a silent reassurance in the midst of the stillness.

The comforting weight of his jacket rested on your shoulders, the fabric familiar and grounding. It was warm, like his presence. You felt the weight of it, but it wasn't oppressive. Instead, it felt like a hug from a distance, offering comfort without intruding. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth from the sun and the gentle breeze wash over you as you listened to the sound of the leaves rustling in the trees.

His hands, sure and calm, braided your hair with meticulous care. He was weaving a few autumn leaves into your hair, the colors of gold and amber adding a touch of nature's beauty to your otherwise pale strands. You could feel the leaves' delicate crunch beneath his fingers as he braided them in, the earthy scent mingling with the fragrance of his jacket, which rested on your shoulders.

The sensation of his fingers brushing through your strands, the steady rhythm of his movements—it was almost hypnotic, and you couldn't help but relax further into the moment. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in this quiet space. His soft breath brushed against the back of your neck, the warmth of his presence enveloping you like a comforting blanket.

But then, a sudden cough rattled in your chest. It caught you off guard, sharp and forceful. You quickly covered your mouth with a handkerchief, but the fabric couldn't shield you from the blood that quickly stained it—a deep red that starkly contrasted the white cloth.

The blood on the handkerchief mixed with the fallen leaves in your lap, a cruel, beautiful contrast. Red and black petals, intertwined in a delicate yet dark scene. Giyu's hand was gentle as he placed a soft, comforting touch on your shoulder. He didn't say anything; he didn't need to. His presence was enough to soothe the ache that threatened to take you.

He finished braiding your hair, then sat beside you, the space between you filled with a calm silence. He reached out and gently held your hand in his, his fingers warm and firm, a silent promise that he would be there with you—no matter what.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with concern. The words were soft, but you could feel the weight behind them, the care in his tone. He was worried, but he was always so careful not to show it too openly.

It was enough that you were having a hard time. The least he wanted to do was lift you the way you had always done for him. He didn't want to see you struggle, didn't want to witness the weight of the illness pressing down on you so heavily, but he knew there was little he could do to stop it. The seasons were shifting, and so were you.

You forced a small smile,  though it didn't quite reach your eyes. You appreciated every effort he made. "Not the best... but I can manage." 

Giyu nodded, but his brow furrowed slightly, his gaze softening as he noticed the bloodstained handkerchief in your lap. He didn't comment on it, but the look in his eyes said everything. He could see the toll it was taking on you, but he didn't push you. Instead, he reached up to pluck a leaf from your hair—one of the last from the tree behind you—and placed it gently in your hands. The simple gesture was so thoughtful, and you felt your heart stir with appreciation.

He gave you a small smile, his eyes lingering on you with a tenderness that warmed your chest. "You know," he began, his voice quiet, "winter is right around the corner."

The words were simple, but they carried so much weight. The season of cold, of endings, of quiet. But you couldn't help but smile at his words. The idea of the coming season, of snow and stillness, somehow seemed fitting for the moment.

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After spending hours outside, the warmth of the sun and the crisp autumn air eventually gave way to the more sterile environment of the hospital room. The walls felt too close, the air too thick, and the familiar hum of machines and distant voices only seemed to add to the pressure in your chest.

Your body was exhausted—both from the physical toll of your illness and from the weight of everything that had happened. You felt like you could collapse at any moment, but you tried to push through it. You wanted to be strong, to make it through at least a little longer. But as you tried to walk to the bed, your knees betrayed you. They buckled beneath you, and before you could even register what was happening, you felt yourself falling.

"Y/N—" Giyu's voice rang out, sharp with concern, and before you knew it, his strong arms were around you, steadying you. He didn't let you fall, not even for a second. His grip was sure, his presence unwavering.

He guided you to the bed, making sure you were settled gently, but the exhaustion was evident on your face. The weight of your own body felt like too much to bear, and you simply wanted to rest.

Giyu's brow furrowed, his lips pressed in a thin line as he hovered by your side. "You really aren't okay. I'll go get a nurse—"

But you reached up, weakly grabbing his wrist. Your fingers were cold, barely able to hold on, but it was enough to stop him.

You didn't want him to worry, didn't want him to feel like he had to go through this with you. You wanted to shield him from the hurt you were feeling, to protect him from the burden you knew you carried.

His eyes softened as he saw your gesture. He sighed deeply, sitting beside you instead of leaving to get a nurse. He didn't speak immediately, but you could feel the weight of his concern in the silence that passed between you.

"You can't keep doing this, you know," he said quietly, his voice carrying an undertone of worry.

You gave him a tired smile, a smile that betrayed the front you've been putting up. "I know... but as long as I can, I will."

Giyu's shoulders sagged in defeat. He crossed his arms and looked away, unable to fight against your determination. He knew you were stubborn—knew you'd never stop fighting, even when you were barely holding on. But that didn't mean he didn't wish he could change things, that he didn't want to take away your pain.

You placed your hand gently over his, offering him a soft smile, one that was meant to reassure him, even if it didn't entirely spark with your usual light.

He sighed again, the sound heavy with resignation, and his gaze dropped to the floor. You turned your attention to the window, and your heart gave a small leap when you saw the first snowflakes beginning to fall. The sky had shifted from clear blue to soft gray, and now, the snow was drifting down, delicate and silent.

Giyu glanced over at the window too, his expression softening as he watched the snowflakes. For a brief moment, you both shared in the quiet beauty of the first snowfall.

The first snowfall should have felt like an omen, a cold reminder of the harshness that winter would bring—but as the delicate flakes drifted down from the sky, there was an odd comfort in it, as if the chill wasn't so bitter, the air wasn't so harsh. It was strange, but the falling snow felt almost warm, as if it carried with it a quiet promise that, despite everything, you were not alone.

In that moment, a whirlwind of emotions surged within you—too many feelings, too many words left unspoken. You wanted to tell him everything. You wanted to express how thankful you were for his constant support, how much his presence meant to you when everything else seemed uncertain. You wanted to apologize for the burden you knew you were placing on him, for the pain and worry you were causing. And you longed to confess how deeply you felt for him, how completely you had fallen for him

But despite the weight of it all, none of those words were the ones to come.

A bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of your lips—faint and fleeting, like a momentary glimmer of warmth in the cold. "Giyu... do you think I'll be able to meet spring?"