Scars

Please

Yamuraiha had gone, she had done what she could, but the ever-silent General had lost so much blood, she was unsure he'd make it. He was fairly stable when she left, but Sinbad sat next to his best friend, holding his pale and clammy hand in his.

Sinbad couldn't tear his eyes from the male's chest, he had to make sure it continued its steady rise and fall. He couldn't handle it if Ja'far left him. The king would fall to bits, along with him, his kingdom. Ja'far was the only person he'd harboured feelings for in a very long while, and even if that hadn't been the case, he was also his best friend.

Ja'far lay unconscious for hours, and more than once had he stopped breathing. His forehead was damp with sweat, and his body was weak and paler than ever. On a normal day, the general was pale as a piece of parchment, but now, he seemed almost ghostly. Sinbad was exhausted, but he refused to take his eyes off Ja'far, for fear that he would disappear.

He felt so useless, clinging to his friends hand, holding it to his lips with nothing to do. He couldn't help, none of them could, and throughout the night, every general paid a visit, at least once. Yam came every half hour to an hour, and Sharkkan appeared more than once, yet neither of them spoke, only knelt or sat beside the king and his advisor, wishing for better conditions. Drakon visited twice before dawn, and Hinahoho told his family he would be absent for an unknown amount of time, as he wanted to stay in the palace in case of emergency. Pisti sobbed when she arrived, and she stayed for over an hour, laying her hand on her fellow generals arm. Spartos just sat silently, looking at his friend. He was never a man of many words, but he and Ja'far got along fine without the need of speech... Though he feared his friend would not last through this tragedy.

~~~~~

The sun began to rise, and light spilled into the bedroom, but there was no solace here. There was no early morning peace. There was only the grief and worry of a family, bound by friendship.

Sinbad still sat, squeezing his friends hand, and through the night, his thoughts kept him company... He came to understand his feelings for the white-haired male. He loved Ja'far. There was no denying it, though it was the kind of love he felt for the other generals, this was different.

Occasionally he stood and paced, his eyes keeping steady contact with Ja'far.

Still, the generals visited, and eventually, Sinbad broke. His friends condition hadn't improved, and he hadn't woken either. He cried softly, kissing Ja'far's hand as he wept. Finally, he managed to stop crying, but with puffy eyes, he continued to dab a cool washcloth across his forehead, and brushed hair from Ja'far's face.

" Please, Ja'far... Don't leave me..." The king whimpered, feeling childish and weak, though he didn't care. He had a right to be, his best friend was dying. "Ja'far, don't die on me... You still have to scold me for missing the meeting the other day... And all the other things I have yet do..."