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The book isn’t very interesting, but Tenma reads it anyway. It’s boring and dull, but it’s something that fills the time better than staring out the window.
At some point he realizes he’s been reading the same page for almost an hour, and simply closes it, settling back in his chair.
The only sound is the constant beep of the ECG, letting him know that the room's sole patient is still holding on.
He doesn't want to look. If he looks he’ll see all the readings. If he looks he fears he’ll fall back into doctor mode and that’s the very last thing he wants to do. He doesn’t want to look at the numbers and think of the odds. He doesn’t want to think that way.
He doesn’t let himself look. Instead he stares out the window for a bit and finally goes back to his book.
The nurses come and go, giving him a wide berth. He tries not to listen. He doesn’t want to hear the odds, doesn’t want to know the likelihood that he’ll fall asleep and wake up to an empty room.
He sleeps there, of course. He refuses to leave, even though he knows it’s a nuisance for the doctors. The fear that he’ll wake up to an empty room is only multiplied at the thought of actually leaving it, and anything more than a quick bathroom break is put off indefinitely.
Grimmer’s spent too long by himself. If he’s going to die, Tenma refuses to allow it to be alone.
He’s been in the hospital for four days when Nina comes to see him. He doesn’t see her, but he wakes to find a blanket wrapped around him and a letter, letting him know what’s happening. He skims it, but he doesn’t read it. His mind is elsewhere.
He feels like he’s dreaming, coasting through the days. People come and go, but he barely registers their presence. Beside him, Grimmer continues to sleep, and when he feels particularly bad he reaches out, carefully avoiding the pulse oximeter before wrapping his hand around Grimmers own.
There’s no response, but it makes him feel better anyway.
He finishes his book and finds a new one. One of the nurses leaves him a newspaper, but he ignores it. He doesn’t want to read what people are saying. Nina can handle that. Lunge can handle that. Anyone but him can handle it.
Tenma is just very, very tired.
He wakes to the sound of a familiar voice.
“...ma. Doctor Tenma...” Comes the voice, and Tenma feels his eyes water as he turns towards the bed.
Grimmer still looks like he was hit by a car--or a lot of bullets and a lot of fists if he’s being accurate--but he’s awake, his eyes cracked open underneath the swelling.
“Were you here the whole time...?” It comes out slowly, and Grimmers voice cracks twice just saying it, but Tenma doesn’t mind at all. He reaches out to take Grimmer’s hand on top of the sheets, ignoring the clip entirely as he gives it a squeeze.
“It doesn’t matter. Did you just wake up? How are you feeling?”
Grimmer lets out a little wheeze of a laugh at the question, shifting slightly on the bed.
“Bad. Alive. Did you save me?”
Tenma doesn’t feel like he did. He feels like he failed him, just by virtue of the fact that he’s in the hospital at all.
“You saved yourself,” he finally says, moving his chair closer to the side of the bed.
He doesn’t mean much by it, but Grimmer obviously reads into it a bit too much, staring into space for a moment before smiling his usual smile. Tenma can’t help but wonder if it’s genuine for once.
“I guess I did.”