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Raindrops pittered and pattered on the window like blood dripping from a wound, and Eden listened. He closed his eyes and tapped along. He lay with one hand over his stomach, and when he tapped his finger over his ribs it made a muffled beat. He could only half feel it with the medication he was on—it was a strange feeling.
He imagined the pond, and how all the flowers must be dripping in the downpour and swirling in the mud. Maybe the storm would leave puddles in its wake and suddenly there would be two or three or four ponds. The water would be brown, and the grass would be soggy, and on the swollen banks there would be no rocks to skip. Maybe everything outside was mud and water and he wasn’t missing much staying in bed.
In a way Eden was lucky, because nothing in the world was helping him heal. He threw up half his pills, and when he wasn’t throwing up, he scrolled awake and mindlessly through his phone. At this point in his ill-advised bout of insomnia, his eyes burned whenever he faced the screen. When he set it aside, the meticulous, cluttered sound of the rain kept him awake.
But this might be the last time in his life he had time, or anything really, to himself. If it took an eternity for his ribs to scab over, then at least that was his eternity. If it passed in a crimson haze of blood, vomit, and bile, there was still some comfort in knowing that no one could force him to heal faster than his body would allow. He was no doll, no puppet—there was nothing in the world that could erase the lines underneath his eyes, or take from his brain the memory of emptying everything in his stomach into the toilet bowl, and how the bathroom tiles felt cold against his skin. He wasn’t like the mortal souls: he had a body, this physical thing that was inherently his that wouldn’t put itself back together unless he gave it permission to. He wrapped that comfort around himself like a blanket. He was perfectly content to listen to the rain, and stare out into the disembodied gray overcast until morning came. The souls, the quotas, the phone calls were not his problem until he decided he wanted to get better.
His phone rattled against the nightstand. Eden reached for it lazily, and the blue light blinded him a little when he opened his messages. Ivan was texting him: It was late, but notions like day and night and sleep probably meant little to anyone as busy as Ivan, doctor or not.
I will need to bring you back to Headquarters come morning. Ms. Dorthelia has been monitoring the radar and it does not seem that I can leave for very long today.
That’s fine Ivan. Thank you again for looking after me!
Of course. Have a pair of clothes and your medications packed by half past six.
Eden sighed. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to being back at HQ—or sharing the infirmary with Hiroki, for that matter. If he wasn’t alone anymore, there would be no more staring out windows, or listening to music without headphones, or staying awake as long as he chose. He might have to pick up some idle work—paperwork, or watching the radar, maybe—to keep Hiroki off his back. It was already tedious enough to be injured, but surely it was more tedious to pretend that he was getting better, and maybe the whole charade would actually work. Maybe his injuries would actually heal under HQ supervision, and he would be back in the wastelands in no time, forever at the mercy of the radar and the river styx.
He put his phone back on the nightstand, pushing himself up carefully. Eden figured he should pack his things before he lost track of time—he did that often these days. Ivan would definitely be upset if he reopened any stitches on the way to his closet, though, so he moved slow. Trying to avoid using his core or back muscles, he leaned on one arm and used the other to pick up his legs and push them off his mattress. It was annoying, all the hobbling and limping each basic movement required.
He navigated from memory across the still-dark, still-gloomy room, courtesy of numerous late-night death angel calls. When he reached the closet, his hands found his uniform—he knew what outfit it was from touch alone—and from there he traced the clothes hangers to a more comfortable shirt and shorts. He hobbled back to his bed and threw the clothes on top. He never unpacked the medications, and his toothbrush was still by his bed so that he could brush his teeth without walking to the bathroom. All he needed to do was wait.
By the time Ivan showed up, Eden had bloodshot eyes and a growling stomach. As annoying as moving to HQ was, he was relieved to hear Ivan coming up the stairs. There was something about the fact that Eden could identify him by the sound of his footsteps alone that made him know he was safe with Ivan. He relaxed a little, even if it was too late to get any real rest. Despite everything, Eden still felt a little bad about disappointing him. He hoped the darkness hid his eyebags when Ivan knocked softly on his door.
“I’m awake,” Eden replied.
Ivan came inside and flipped the light switch. Eden squinted and sat up, while the doctor looked around the room to ensure everything was packed. When he got to Eden’s nightstand, he dug through the bag like how Eden would imagine a mother digging through a big purse. Once he was satisfied everything was there, he turned to Eden.
“Are you feeling alright? Any fever, nausea, coughing, chest pain, headaches, fatigue—“
“I’m fine. A little trouble sleeping, and a little hungry, but I don’t think that’s because of the medicine.” Eden cut him off, the words spilling out before he could think of any way to save face. It wouldn’t be good if Ivan caught on to what he was thinking. Maybe if he smiled a little, Ivan would worry less. He smiled a little.
“I’ll carry you back. Let me give you some sleep medication, first, however. Your injuries require rest—and I mean that. You’ll be staying in bed all day today,” Ivan crossed his arms. Eden nodded half-heartedly, knowing the jig might be up.
Ivan leaned in, looking Eden’s face over one more time, and glancing back at the phone on his nightstand. He frowned, and dug out some pills from a bag slung over his shoulder—Eden didn’t notice it before. Had Ivan always been carrying first aid kits between HQ and his office and Eden’s house? Wasn’t it heavy?
Eden’s hand shook a little, but he took the pills from Ivan’s hand and swallowed them. He couldn’t remember much after that, and with a twist in his stomach he realized how tired he really was, what staying awake was doing to him, how close he was to breaking down. How much effort had it really taken him, to keep his eyes open until this point? His hand shook more, now, but it wasn’t holding anything—why was it doing that? Why was Ivan looking at him like that?
When Eden opened his eyes again, his body ached from lying on the creaky infirmary cot. The ceiling was now stone arches and mortar, eminence and cold air washing over where he lay. He rubbed his eyes.
“Well look who came crawling back-”
“Good morning Hiroki,” Eden covered his mouth to yawn. “Nice to see you awake and healthy.”
“Well of course I’ve been healing,” He replied. “I’m not weak like you.”
Eden sighed. It was going to be a long day.
There was a note laying on his chest in neat lettering, definitely Ivan’s writing—Eden ignored it. He pushed the sheets off of him and sat up, tucking the note underneath his pillow. He didn’t see anyone else in the room.
“What time is it?” Eden asked.
“Half past noon,” Hiroki said. “Everyone else is out clearing the radar.”
“Oh.” Eden rolled over on his bed, putting his back to Hiroki.
As he faced the bricks on the wall, he realized that the building had completely lost its appeal.When he was a kid, every part of HQ seemed so big—the arches were certainly taller than him, and even the door frames were bigger than any he saw at home. Each new room he found was the coolest room he had ever seen. The first night he ever spent in the infirmary, he wouldn’t stop crying but eventually realized that he was sleeping in a bed that was used by a real reaper once. Later, Amaliel was able to convince him to sleep with the notion of ‘wow, isn’t it so cool you’re staying in the same place real death angels and archangels used to treat their injuries? maybe that could be you too one day.’ The same idea made him feel sick now.
“I’m going to make lunch,” Hiroki announced.
“Huh?” Eden turned over. “With what?”
As far as Eden knew, there was no food anywhere in HQ. There was a kitchen, but he personally had never set foot in it. There were many kitchens Eden had never set foot in, in fact, but this was the one he was most proud of. If he had known how to cook as a kid, maybe Amaliel would have made him cook, too, and by then he’d have had so much extra reaper work that he would have never made it out of HQ before his millionth birthday.
“I don’t know, I’ll make soup. Soup is easy,” Hiroki continued. “I want soup.” His earrings bounced as he nodded to himself.
“Fine, help me up then,” Eden sat up. “You can’t chop anything with one hand.” Hiroki frowned at that, but didn’t pull Eden’s arm out of its socket while helping him up, so he took it as a good sign.
They walked out of the infirmary in silence, which was more than okay with Eden, but he wasn’t sure what to say each time Hiroki stopped to wait for him to catch his breath. After the second or third break Eden took, Hiroki was scowling, and would scroll aggressively on his phone for recipes while he waited. Lucky for him, Eden gave him plenty of time to find out what soup to make.
By the time Eden made it to the kitchen, Hiroki had gone ahead and started pulling out ingredients. Eden had no idea anyone even used the HQ kitchen. Maybe it was Ivan who stocked it. The recipe Hiroki found was on his phone and laying on the counter: Eden skimmed it. Most of the ingredients were already out, but the chicken broth was still in the pantry. They were making chicken noodle soup, Hiroki had decided. There were no noodles, though, so maybe just chicken chicken soup.
Eden looked again at the ingredients. “I think that’s everything. I mean, that is everything.”
“Well start chopping, then, if you’re so good at chopping,” Hiroki said. “You think you’re so great just because you have both hands.”
“Hiroki, are you seriously mad at me right now because I won’t let you cut your only working hand chopping vegetables for this stupid soup?! Just let me help!” Eden snapped.
“You’re an idiot, I can’t possibly cut myself if I’m only using one hand,” Hiroki waved him off. “But you’re already here so you might as well finish.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever…” Eden said. He was surprised Hiroki didn’t kick him out—it was, technically, impossible for Hiroki to cut his hand if he only used one hand. He didn’t exactly need Eden’s help. But then again, if Eden didn’t help make the soup, Hiroki might not share, and Eden hadn’t eaten all day. He heard clanking behind him.
“This is the right pan for this recipe, right? I’m not familiar with this kitchen’s… cookware…” Hiroki asked.
“That looks right, just pour the broth in there!” Eden said, smiling. He had no idea, actually. But there was no way in hell he would tell Hiroki he didn’t know how to cook. The last thing he needed, Eden thought as he grabbed the cutting board, was for Hiroki to have any more dirt on him.
Eden started cutting the carrots. At first, he turned the knife over a few times and tried to remember how carrots were shaped in the chicken noodle soup Theresa made. He found quickly that cutting carrots wasn’t hard at all, though—it was just like swinging his scythe. He had excellent form.
After the carrots, each vegetable met a swift fate at Eden’s hands. It was an art, really: the way Eden chopped the onion gave each little onion piece individuality. They were all different sizes, and Eden named each piece as he dropped it into the pot. George, Paul, John, Ringo, Louis, and Benny brought tears to his eyes as he said farewell. They sizzled in the pot, and it sounded like they, too, were saying goodbye to their benevolent executioner.
Hiroki added some more… vegetables… to the pot. Eden wasn’t exactly sure what vegetable they were, but it was clear Hiroki had used more powerful cutting techniques. He was trying to show off. Eden, growing comfortable in his newfound powers as a vegetable chopper, proceeded to cut the celery with enough force to shatter skulls but with the precision of a trained dancer. On the other side of the kitchen, Hiroki looked terrified, and that’s how Eden knew he won.
Hiroki still added more to the pot than Eden, though, because he had taken the liberty of adding the chicken broth and spices. Eden couldn’t let his guard down, but it wouldn’t hurt to play nice.
“It’s starting to smell like soup!” Eden beamed. “I think we’re figuring this out!”
“Of course,” Hiroki grinned. “My demon hunter training has prepared me for this exact situation.”
Eden gripped the knife tighter. Of course Hiroki had training for this sort of thing. Hiroki knew exactly what he was doing. Eden would need to step up his game.
“Hiroki, is this pot… simmering… enough? You know, because everyone has their own preferences. Just want to make sure we’re cooking this the way you like it.” He asked amicably.
“What is the meaning of ‘simmering…’?” Hiroki leaned over. “Oh, yes, that. We should cook it on a higher heat. Brings out the flavor of the vegetables more.” He wafted the soup and nodded to himself. He threw another pinch of salt into the pot and stirred. Eden cursed to himself. It was a draw.
After that, the soup needed to sit for a while. Hiroki, of course, took the opportunity to throw carrot pieces at Eden’s head. Eden swatted them away, but learned at that moment that raw carrots are not all that much softer than rocks, especially when someone like Hiroki throws them.
“What’s the big idea?!” Eden snapped. He picked up the cutting board and swatted it at the other boy, staying on his left side so Hiroki couldn’t block. They scuttled around the kitchen a few times, Hiroki usually moved faster, but he failed to find a suitable weapon for a counterattack. Carrots had been strewn across the kitchen floor.
“What on earth are you two doing?” Lillian entered the kitchen. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”
“Hi Lillian!” Eden waved.
“We’re making soup. We were hungry.” Hiroki said.
“Oh, sorry, I would’ve gotten you food if I knew-”
“Eden why is there hair in our soup?” Hiroki screeched.
“What?” He ran over to look in the pot. Sure enough, there were tiny yellow fibers floating around the top of the soup.
“Oh ew that’s disgusting!” He cried, grabbing a spoon. “Get it out, get it out!”
Lily peered over Eden’s shoulder. “You idiots,” She said. “That’s ginger.”
“No, it’s definitely blonde.” Hiroki clarified.
“Not that kind of ginger! It’s-” She covered her face with her hands. “You know what, I think I hear Amaliel calling me, I should go.” Lillian made a swift exit.
“Huh?” Eden turned around. “Lily—wait—you should stay and cook with us! It’ll be fun!” He desperately needed her to stay—it was only a matter of time before Hiroki noticed that Eden didn’t know how to wash dishes.
“I think we’re almost done, anyways.” Hiroki added. He pried the cutting board out of Eden’s hands and set it in the sink.
Behind them, the boys hear a hideous hissing as bubbles pour and spill over the sides of the pot. Eden raises his eyebrows, Hiroki jumps forward.
“I think we’re done.” Hiroki said, slamming the lid onto the pot. The force caused more soup to splash to the top. Even with the lid, it kept bubbling over, so Hiroki dragged it onto a different part of the stove. Every part of the stovetop was dripping with soup.
“Can you grab the bowls? I’m not sure if I should be reaching.” Eden said, putting his hand over his bandages.
“Yep!” Hiroki replied. He had to stand on his toes to reach the top shelf, but pulled two bowls down and offered the top one to Eden. Eden took both, gesturing to the ladle. It was a task better done using two hands.
“Let me know when to stop,” Eden said, filling Hiroki’s bowl. Hiroki never told him to stop, though, so he filled it as much as he could.
“Thanks,” Hiroki took the bowl. Eden filled his own, setting it on the counter.
“I think this is the best thing we’ve ever cooked, Hiroki-” He started.
“It’s the only thing we’ve ever-” Hiroki interrupted.
“We might still have a chance to switch careers, you know. Become Angels of Cookery,” Eden gestured widely to the kitchen. “Angels of Soup, even.”
He put a hand on the counter, leaning onto his arm so he could walk easier. Suddenly, his hand slips on the slick countertop and Eden falls crashing back—the pot tips over as he collides into the stove.
“Shit!” Hiroki ran over to the stove, trying to stop the pot. “You always do this!”
Hiroki misses and the pot is completely emptied onto the counter, onto Eden on the floor. It burns, the heat gripping Eden’s arm like a claw—he screams. Hiroki tries to stop any more broth from dripping with his sleeve as Eden scoots away from the counter. Hiroki offers him his hand, but doesn’t meet his eye.
As Eden stands up, he finds a towel on the counter. His throat feels tight.
“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, uh,” He pulls on Hiroki’s sleeve, who finally looks back. “I’ll clean it up.” Hiroki’s face twists as he says that, into some expression he can’t quite place, and the boy snatches the towel out of Eden’s hands.
“Just- just leave it alone. Go sit down.”
Eden sat down.
The air hung heavy and tasted like iron in Eden’s mouth. He hung his head and blinked, fighting back tears. When he tasted the soup, he swallowed with a wince. The liquid sat hot in his stomach as he thought about the scalds on his arm—they weren’t terrible, but he would need to ask Ivan to look at it.
He didn’t know what he was thinking, really—why he even helped Hiroki in the first place. They didn’t get along. He should have just stayed behind and enjoyed the empty infirmary. Even though he was hungry, and the soup did eventually warm him up, Eden sat scowling at the bowl.
When Hiroki had taken care of the pot, Eden scooched away from where he sat down. The only sound was spoons clinking against bowls. It brought back memories that left a bad taste in Eden’s mouth: putting the cereal box between him and Grace each morning at the breakfast table, hiding behind it so she wouldn’t talk to him so early.
“This soup is awful.” Hiroki said.
“It’s- yeah… it’s bad.”
“You should’ve spilled all of it,” Hiroki smiled and pushed the bowl away from him. Eden stared at him for a moment, dumfounded. Then: he almost cried laughing, pushing the bowl away as well and looking up to see Hiroki laughing too, because, yeah, the soup really was that bad.
“Do you want any more?” Hiroki pushes his bowl in front of Eden.
“Uh-uh. That’s YOURS.” Eden pushed it back. Hiroki wouldn’t let him: he grabbed the other side. They fight over it until it spills because—what the hell—they already smelled like chicken broth anyways, and what’s a spilled bowl of soup when the kitchen is a warzone? Hiroki eventually wins, splashing the soup onto Eden with no regard to his previous soup burns and smiling triumphantly. Eden pulled away with a fake scowl, wiping his hands on his already-ruined shirt.
“We should probably just call Lillian and ask her to pick up a pizza.” Hiroki said, staring into his reflection on the soup and reflecting, perhaps, on some of the choices which led them to this moment. Eden nodded soupishly.
“Stay here.” Hiroki said and stood up, pushing his own chair in. He started cleaning: First the counter, then the dishes, then the table. All the while, Eden sat there and watched, maybe even smiling a little. He pulled out his phone and dialed Lillian’s number.
“Hi, Lillian~” He began. Lily cleared her throat on the other side.
“So,” She cleared her throat again. “How did the soup taste?”
At this point Eden could hear Michelle in the background, giggling, saying something he couldn’t understand to Lillian.
“Listen,” He said. “Can you pretty please get us a pizza?”
Strained silence on the other end.
“Pretty please??”
Nothing.
“The soup was bad! It was horrible! I should have asked you for help and I didn’t. Is that what you wanted to hear?!!” Eden cried as Hiroki cleared his bowl off the table. He sniffed pitifully as he watched the last of the soup be poured down the sink.
“No problem at all, Eden! I’d be happy to get you two a pizza,” Lily finally replied, this time she and Michelle are falling over laughing.
“Do you want—hehe—cheese, perhaps? Or pepperoni?”
“Cheese, please.”
“I’ll-hehe-haha-be there soon.” She promised.
“Thank you Lillian.” Eden set his phone down, crossing his arms and sulking into his chair as Hiroki wrapped up cleaning.
“Thank you, Hiro-” Eden began.
“Don’t.” He cuts Eden off.
“O- okay.”
When they walked back to the infirmary, Hiroki wrapped his arm around Eden this time, and they didn’t need to take any breaks. Whenever Eden got out of breath, he leaned on Hirok—Hiroki must not have minded that Eden definitely got more soup on his shirt. Or maybe he did mind, Eden considered, because when they arrived at their cots again Hiroki threw Eden a new shirt out of his own bag. Hiroki’s clothes were a little small for Eden, but at least it wasn’t covered in vegetables and broth.
He helped Eden take off his shirt, and upon finding the broth-soaked bandages underneath, helped change those too. It was a little difficult without Ivan’s help: with Eden’s limited mobility and Hiroki’s lack of arm, both tasks took a long time. The scalds on Eden’s arm weren’t too severe, so Hiroki didn’t bandage them and helped Eden put on the new shirt. Once they threw their dirty clothes under their cots, there was practically no evidence of the soup incident at all. Well, except for-
“How are you going to explain your arm to Ivan?” Hiroki asked.
“That’s… alater problem…” Eden shrunk away from the question. “Do you think Lily will have the pizza soon?”
“I hope so.”
Lillian arrived shortly with a large, mostly warm cheese pizza. She set it down on the nearest cot, and left to grab some plates. She came back speedwalking.
“What the hell happened in that kitchen?!” She yelled. “How did you two make it worse than it was earlier?!”
“I- I cleaned it, though!” Hiroki said.
“Well, yeah,” Lily said. “But maybe you should mop, too. It might attract ants or bugs if you don’t use soap to wipe everything down.”
“Are there even ants here?” Hiroki asked.
“I’ve never seen any, but,” Eden answered. “I’d rather not find out.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll go mop.” Hiroki waved as he walked towards the hall. “Save me half of that pizza.” Eden watched him leave, frowning.
“Do you think he needs help? What if the food gets cold before he gets back?” Eden turned to Lillian.
“...I don’t think he cares, Eden. You should stay in bed, you’ve already moved around too much today.” She said.
They mostly sat in silence: Eden, having not eaten all day, was destroying the pizza; Lily sat and waited. When she got bored, she looked through all the medicine Eden had, reading the labels haphazardly.
“How are you feeling?” She asked once Eden finished.
“Definitely better now that I’ve eaten,” he said.
“Sure,” She replied. “Seriously, though, I thought you’d be annoyed about coming back to HQ.”
“It’s not all that bad. I hope Ivan doesn’t forget to leave us food again, though.” Eden smiled.
“You seemed like you were having fun cooking with Hiroki,” she pointed out.
“Absolutely not, he called me weak and tried to kill me all afternoon-”
“Yeah, sure, whatever you say…” Lillian trailed off.
“That’s weird that Ivan forgot food for you two, it doesn’t sound like him at all,” She said, her chin balanced on her hands.
“Yeah… wait a minute-” Eden turned around suddenly. Reaching underneath his pillow, he pulled out Ivan’s note from earlier.
Eden
Don’t forget to take your medications and drink plenty of water. I’m leaving food by the radar for you and Hiroki—it’s important that both of you eat enough and eat healthy foods. I cooked a lot of different foods in case the medications you are taking start upsetting your stomach again, don’t try to eat anything you think you might throw up (otherwise, you might throw up pills, too).
Please show this to Hiroki as well.
Take care,
-Ivan
“Lily… I think Hiroki and I might be stupid.” He sighed and handed her the note. Lily facepalmed as she finished it.
“So much for eating healthy,” Lily said. She stacked the rest of the pizza slices onto Hiroki’s plate and scooped up the pizza box. “I’ll be back, I’m just throwing this away.”
“Right,” Eden replied, folding the note away. This’ll be his and Lillian’s secret, he decided. Hiroki stepped back into the infirmary and Eden waved.
“You have no idea the horrors I’ve seen in the past eight minutes, Eden Dianthus Dahlman-” He sunk into his cot. Eden handed him his pizza, which he hesitated before accepting. “You have no idea where Amaliel decided to store the mop, you have no idea what was on that mop, you simply cannot comprehend the things I’ve seen.”
“Y- yeah,” Eden said. “You really weren’t gone for that long.”
“I mopped for the least amount of time physically possible.”
Hiroki took a deep breath before he recounted his trials and tribulations, but before he began the boys heard voices in the hall.
“What do you mean they made soup?!?” Ivan cried. His steps quickened.
“They had to learn somehow. I’m sure the nuance of the recipe served them well,” Lillian said.
“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Amaliel asked.
“EDEN! HIROKI!!” Ivan shouted down the hall.
It seemed everyone was coming back from work, and with a mutual nod of understanding the two boys laid down and closed their eyes. Eden evened out his breathing and pulled up the covers to feign sleep, but Hiroki was completely and utterly silent—he might have been playing dead. Either worked, Eden thought.
Ivan burst through the doors, surprised to see both of them in bed, but noting the light switch left on. He looked over the ‘sleeping’ boys a little closer before finding the lights and flicking them off and on.
“I know you two are awake!” He said. Eden sighed and Hiroki covered his eyes.
“Ivan we’re sorry! Please stop with the lights!” Hiroki pleaded.
Ivan left the lights on and walked over to their beds. His pallid skin was dotted with sweat, his hair in tangles and knots. For a moment, Eden regretted not taking a look at the radar or doing anything helpful. Ivan was managing work, being sick, and being a doctor all at the same time. Maybe Ivan was crazy. Or tired. Ivan looked tired.
“I know…” Ivan started. “I know bedrest isn’t fun. I know neither of you want to be stuck here. But… please trust me when I say you need it. I’m not exaggerating, I’m not making this up.”
Eden looked down at his hands. He wasn’t being fair at all. This week was the only week Eden had had off in forever, the only week he felt safe, the only time he had control over any of this. Tears pricked at his eyes. Who did Ivan think he was, walking into the infirmary looking like a mess, yelling at them for not taking a day off work the right way? What right did he have to be disappointed in them?
But Eden couldn’t raise his head an inch, if it meant seeing the look on Ivan’s face. Was it a crime if he wanted a way out, just for a little bit? Was it really so bad if he didn’t want to get better, if he wanted to stay where he was? But when he tried to think of something to say, Eden thought of all the trips Ivan took to his house, each night putting a hand to his forehead to check for fever, each morning texting him a thousand reminders to drink water and take his medicine. Without his parents at home, he realized, it had been a while since anyone cared for him that much. He tried to hate him, tried to hate the face Ivan would make each time he would find Eden’s food only half eaten at his bedside—he felt like crying. Eden drew his knees to his chest; Ivan pushed them back down. The doctor kneeled on the floor, his head level with both of the boys.
“You two are still young. You have no idea what any of this means, what it means to be sent to this room,” He gestured to the rest of the infirmary. “There have been many people who came in and never came out. There have been many people who came in and never even stood a chance at coming out. I know work isn’t always fun but you have no idea how lucky you are to have a scheduled return to work already.”
“You will get better. I’ll make sure of it. But you two need to rest, stay hydrated, change your bandages—I can’t do all of it for you. Think about everyone who has lied in those cots before you: all you need to do is stay put and take care of yourself. Your bodies will put themselves back together out of nothing but food and sleep—do you have the slightest idea how many people who were sent here wished that was true for them?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to yell at you two…” Ivan hung his head. Hiroki put his hand on Ivan’s shoulder. “The vast majority of healing happens when you sleep. Your bodies have hundreds of processes, systems, procedures to regrow an arm or close a wound, but if you interrupt its natural schedule, none of them work as well. It’ll take significantly longer to put each tissue together if you aren’t on a good sleep schedule.”
“All of that healing requires energy, too—you’ll still be tired when you wake up, and if you fall behind on eating or drinking, then you’ll become fatigued. I’m not asking a ton of you two. But please, try to rest more. Put more effort into getting better—it’s lucky that you even have the opportunity.”
Eden looked back at Ivan, held his gaze, and understood more clearly now the sadness that furrowed his brow and the picture painted by all the lines on his face. Even now, there was so much behind his eyes that Eden didn’t know, that he couldn’t know even if he knew the sound of Ivan walking up the stairs or every piece of bedrest scoldings the doctor had to offer. He laid down onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow and pulling the sheets up to his neck. Ivan sat at the edge, keeping careful watch as Eden closed his eyes and his breathing slowed.
There was so much he was missing, confined to the limits of a twin-sized mattress and a half dozen pill bottles, that it ached more than any stab to the chest. It wasn’t fair for Ivan to make him care about these things, it wasn’t fair.
That moment, when Eden thought of his hands, he didn’t think of flowers wilting—he missed how much they could hold. In his left hand, carrots, maybe—in his right, a knife. He missed already cutting vegetables and hoping he was doing a good enough job to fool Hiroki, he missed passing measuring cups back and forth like maybe they were really friends who really cooked lunches together. It was a silly delusion and a stupid thing to care about. It wasn’t fair.
When he thought of his eyes, he didn’t think of forcing them open or crying over a toilet bowl, but instead thought how nice it was to have eyes for seeing water boil, or how the soup splashed as he stirred it. He thought about how wide they became each time he and Hiroki spilled something—why did they do that? Why did they cry whenever Hiroki cut onions next to him? Eyes were stupid, anyways.
When he thought of his chest, he didn’t think of clots and bandages but rather warm chicken broth on a rainy day, and how warm his chest felt as he swallowed spoonful after spoonful. He wondered, for a moment, if it was even the soup at all that made him warm inside—maybe instead, it was knowing that he made something with his own two hands. Maybe he was happy to be up and about, laughing and making bad soup, making Hiroki smile-
Because when has he ever made Hiroki smile? It was never one of Eden’s talents. He couldn’t think of the last time Hiroki laughed at one of his jokes, or he laughed at one of Hiroki’s. Maybe they would both remember today. Eden hoped, more than he hoped for a lot of things, that Hiroki was thinking some of the same things inside his head. He hoped they might get along—that there might be more today’s. Hope like that was a risk, it was a liability—but—
It all seemed like a fairly good reason to get better, Eden thought. To have more today’s. No matter how loud the radar was pinging in the other room, no matter how many souls there were waiting for him, he wanted to wake up the next morning with the scabs on his chest just a little bit smaller, he wanted to get up and walk again without leaning on anything. He wanted his body to put itself back together. He could still hear the distant pings of the radar, but it didn’t keep him awake. He could still feel a dip in the mattress where Ivan sat on his bed, and wondered if the doctor would watch as each tissue knit itself to another, closing slowly but surely each of Eden’s wounds. The boy breathed in and out steadily, slowly—bourne back breath by breath into bloodless dreams.
When Ivan left, Hiroki moved down a few cots to the other side of Eden. Before long, he too was asleep, lying on his side so he could keep an eye on his one real friend. When midnight came near and Hiroki left for work, he tiptoed very carefully out of the infirmary.
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^^bonus Eden doodle! He’s going to make it to ballet rehearsal guys trust