The ceiling was white. That was the first thing Ruaan noticed when he opened his eyes.
He stared at it for a long time before he understood that he was looking at the infirmary ceiling and not the ceiling of his room.
He blinked as everything slowly came back. The field. The ambulance. The arm. The watch.
He pressed both hands over his face and breathed. Harolin was really dead.
"You're awake."
He moved his hands.
Seo was sitting in the chair beside the bed, pulled close. He had his manga closed on his knee and his broken glasses on. The expression on his face was similar to the first time they had met at this same infirmary.
"How long?" Ruaan said. "How long has it been?"
"Three days," Seo said.
Ruaan looked at the ceiling again.
Three days.
The doctor came in as if he had been waiting for the sound of voices and stood at the end of the bed with a clipboard and the specific manner of someone delivering information they had prepared.
