Chapter Text
That night, Andrew slept soundly. With music as his companion, it was the first time in six days that he had truly rested. There was nothing to disturb him in his dreams, felt as if he were sleeping on a fluffy cloud. Only after waking up did he remember everything from the night before. He didn’t dare to look at Antonio, fearing that the latter might bring up his loss of composure. And he couldn't think of any way to face him after what had happened.
After thinking it over, Andrew slowly raised his head, only to find that Antonio wasn’t looking at him but staring out the window instead. Hadn't his violin already been delivered? How many more violins did he expect to receive?
They spent the whole day in awkward silence. This time, though, it wasn’t the usual quiet because both of them had things they wanted to say but neither spoke first.
And so, a long day passed.
On the morning of the first day of the second week, a young doctor walked briskly into the room, carrying a large bouquet of flowers so massive that it obscured his view. After making his way to Antonio's bedside, he placed the bouquet on the nearby nightstand. Naturally, Andrew was curious, sneaking a glance at the enormous bouquet. It was truly an impressive bunch! At the same time, the head nurse entered the room. Andrew quickly looked down, but not before noticing her holding a stack of colorful cards as she approached Antonio's bed. The young doctor, surprised by the cards, asked in awe:
"Hey, are all the flowers downstairs for this gentleman?"
The head nurse rolled her eyes and nodded without a hint of emotion. In the young doctor's envious and curious gaze, she placed the cards into the bouquet and explained in her usual concise manner:
"These are from your audience and friends in high society."
“Of course, there were many more bouquets sent, but for health reasons, I suggested placing the others in the lobby and reception area. Hope you understand."
Before they left, Andrew noticed that she didn’t seem to want to engage with Antonio, but still expressed her heartfelt gratitude, thanking him for brightening the environment.
Not long after they left, a charming fragrance reached Andrew’s nose. As he was lost in thought, Antonio got up from his bed, walked over to the window, and began sifting through the cards. Andrew watched as Antonio pulled out the stack of cards, seemingly with a hint of disdain. The cards made a rustling noise as he handled them, and there was a faint snort from Antonio’s nose before he tossed them aside. After going through the cards, he lay back down, looking discontented. At that moment, he noticed Andrew.
Andrew wanted to avert his gaze, but it was too late. Antonio was staring straight at him, his black hair still messy, showing no intention of backing down.
Andrew’s face flushed with embarrassment, and under the pressure of Antonio’s gaze, he had no choice but to say something. After a long pause, he finally blurted out the first words they’d exchanged all day:
"Are those roses? beautiful……really."
Even Andrew himself thought the words sounded dumb, his voice barely louder than a whisper. But Antonio heard him and, surprisingly, seemed interested. He asked Andrew if anyone had ever given him flowers.
He must have misunderstood Andrew’s meaning.
Andrew thought to himself—how could anyone have ever given him flowers? He wanted to say no, but that felt too embarrassing. So instead, he explained:
“You know, sometimes people bring flowers. I’ve seen them placed on graves.”
Both of them then looked at the bouquet of roses, hoping that it was their lovely pink color that had captured their attention. After tossing aside the cards, Antonio placed the bouquet on the nightstand by his bed, where it sat close to him…
This is not fun at all.
Andrew noticed a flicker of discomfort on Antonio’s face before he chose to ignore him. Andrew didn’t blame him; it was his fault for making such a foolish comment about "graves" and "dead people."
Finally, they had managed to break the silence, but Andrew had killed the conversation almost immediately.
However, Antonio’s voice came again. This time, he asked Andrew if he had a favorite flower.
Andrew, who had been dozing off, was startled awake by the unexpected question. He had thought Antonio would never speak to him again, but as his long white eyelashes fluttered and his eyes remained downcast, Andrew was certain that his answer to this question would be one of the few moments in his life worth remembering.
He said that once, he had seen a large bouquet of purple flowers that were unlike anything he had ever encountered. They were so rare that the image of their color was forever etched into his memory from the very first glance. For the first time in his life, he had summoned the courage to approach a stranger just to find out the flower's name.
"Iris... It’s indeed a rare choice for a gift……"
Antonio stroked his chin thoughtfully, appearing somewhat annoyed, before falling into a deep, inscrutable contemplation. Andrew couldn’t figure out what he meant, but soon, Antonio returned to his usual cheerful, whimsical self, shifting the conversation elsewhere.
From that point on, they began to talk freely with each other. Though most of the talking was done by Antonio, Andrew was happy to answer his questions.
Before Antonio would ask a question, Andrew would hesitate, trying to come up with a suitable answer. He was good at answering questions like "How much is this piece of land worth?" or "How much does it cost to clean this area daily?" or "What’s the compensation for a mistake at work?" But when it came to personal matters, Andrew remained tight-lipped.
Antonio's questions, however, were far from ordinary. He asked things like "Is the air in the countryside green at night?", "Do clothes smell like cement on rainy days?", or "Can you see the sunset several times in a day?" The questions were so bizarre and disconnected from one another that Andrew had no idea what Antonio would ask next. This left Andrew in a constant state of confusion, forcing him to think deeply before answering each time.
Yet something compelled Andrew to engage with these strange questions. He wanted to converse, to open up, and Antonio always waited patiently, smiling wide no matter what Andrew said. Even if Andrew’s responses were fabricated from his imagination, Antonio always seemed utterly satisfied with his answers.
After a while, Andrew grew accustomed to Antonio’s smile. He pondered Antonio’s latest string of peculiar questions: "Do you know what 'First down' means? Or 'don’t rescue, protect the win'? Or 'I’m leaving now'?" God only knows where Antonio had picked up such strange phrases. As Andrew mulled over these mysteries, he looked at Antonio.
The Antonio before him now, with that smile, no longer resembled a demon. He couldn’t quite explain it, but everything just felt right.
Andrew had never spoken like this with anyone before. In fact, he had imagined that he would never have such a conversation, as he hated socializing and preferred avoiding people. Yet, talking with Antonio felt so wonderful.
Their conversation naturally ended when the head nurse entered the room. She didn’t seem to notice anything unusual between them, first trying to engage with Antonio, only to be met with his customary silence. Meanwhile, Andrew spent those few moments reliving the long hours of their earlier conversation, feeling a small glimmer of happiness bloom in his heart.
Aside from their talks, Antonio hadn’t played his violin again—he had stowed it under the bed. It seemed that, aside from the hospital director, almost no one was willing to interact with Antonio, making his violin quite safe.
At first, Andrew thought Antonio was simply biding his time. Playing during the day wasn’t an option, as the head nurse and others would come in periodically to check on their condition. But at night, they might have a chance. Perhaps the thirteenth floor’s special single ward could become a private concert hall for the violinist and his sole audience.
However, Andrew began to feel increasingly uneasy. He noticed that, while Antonio remained cheerful during their daytime conversations, at night he would only go through the motions of playing the violin, with no sound emerging. It was as if Antonio had given up on music, perhaps feeling sorry for making Andrew cry the last time he played. If Antonio had abandoned music just because of that incident, then Andrew felt he had committed a terrible wrong!
Finally, one night, Andrew gathered the courage to beg Antonio to play the violin again.
“Actually, the last piece you played would be fine... No, what I mean is, of course you can play any piece you like... I just hope you’ll play your violin again...”
Andrew stumbled over his words, realizing too late that his request was poorly phrased. But Antonio’s face lit up, as if an iris had bloomed from it. He jumped out of bed, bumping into it as he grabbed his violin case. Taking out the violin and bow, he struck a pose, and this time Andrew was sure he played.
From then on, Antonio performed passionately every night, with each melody evoking different images and emotions. Andrew was completely captivated, and he realized that the music allowed him to see things he had always longed to see. The notes themselves seemed to hold a private meeting, rehearsing in secret before painting scenes in Andrew’s mind, far more vivid and dynamic than anything he had ever witnessed in real life. Antonio wholeheartedly embraced these ideas, continuously creating these small wonders filled with humanity, even crafting impossible realms of fantasy.
They were lucky. No one ever interrupted their nightly concerts, although playing during the day was still a challenge. Once, right after the head nurse had left, Antonio had barely taken out his violin when she unexpectedly returned. Andrew had to feign a deep conversation to keep her from noticing. Fortunately, they succeeded, and Antonio remained optimistic, saying, "With the fiftieth visit, she’ll probably understand and start bringing chairs for us."
When the head nurse, grumbling about Andrew’s pranks, had finished her reprimand, Antonio watched Andrew. After the nurse left, Andrew glanced back at Antonio, and they both started to laugh quietly, then laughed out loud, with Antonio being the main instigator.
Music had evidently brought them closer together once again.
Their sneaky yet carefree behavior felt so natural.
Happy days always seem to pass quickly. The second week was about to end, but Andrew didn’t feel anxious. It had been the best week of his life, and he naively and optimistically hoped that such days would continue indefinitely.
On the last day of the second week, the young doctor came in again, this time holding a large bouquet of flowers. Andrew was stunned when he saw the flowers because it was an elegant bouquet of purple irises, and they were gradually being brought to Andrew’s bedside.
Andrew stared at the flowers without blinking.
The head nurse came in again, not carrying a card, but instead glaring at the innocent bouquet with displeasure.
“Didn’t we say that all flowers should be placed downstairs from now on?”
“Oh, you instructed that flowers for Mr. Antonio should be placed downstairs, but this bouquet is for Mr. Kress.”
The young doctor said mischievously and proudly, earning a stern look from the head nurse. However, she suddenly raised her eyebrows at Andrew and displayed an unexpected look of delight, surprising Andrew as she actually smiled happily.
“Well, that was my mistake, so please put any future ‘flowers for Mr. Kress’ downstairs as well.”
“And this bouquet?”
“Make an exception for this one. They’re truly beautiful.”
The head nurse and the young doctor left the ward, and Andrew noticed that her footsteps had never been as light and joyful as they were today.
Andrew admired the bouquet, carefully holding it in his arms. It was so numerous and beautiful; it was the first bouquet ever sent to him, and he cherished it, afraid to disturb it.
The bouquet also had a small card in it. When he picked it up, he found that it was made from many fragments of different cards, pieced together. The person who made this peculiar card had tried to keep it neat and color-coordinated, and then he saw a string of somewhat wild but smooth handwriting:
— Wishing you endless happiness, Mr. Andrew Kress.
No signature.
Andrew began to recall who might have sent him the flowers. He was sure that none of the people from the previous days would have sent flowers. Then he thought of the head nurse’s unexpected attitude. Could it be her? If so, she had acted too convincingly... But Andrew quickly realized who it was. He felt quite slow, as he was the only one who knew about these flowers.
Antonio then began to smile openly at Andrew. He saw him seemingly hiding behind the large bouquet of irises, but his naturally faint irises reflected the flower’s purple hue. Those eyes were truly beautiful.
“Surprise~”
Antonio revealed the mystery and, to give Andrew time to calm his flustered and endearing emotions, he gently explained how he had slipped a note to the young doctor, how he had dismantled and reassembled his stack of colorful cards to create this card, and so on. Only then did Andrew shyly thank him from behind the flowers.
“I forgot, actually another surprise.”
“Another …surprise?... What is it?”
Andrew was so pleasantly surprised that he could hardly hold the flowers. But Antonio cheerfully told him:
“Relax, not now.”
“But it’s coming soon, so just look forward to it!”
【TBC】