Aika sat alone in the hospital lobby, her hands curled into her lap.
The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a harsh glow over the sterile white walls. The sharp scent of disinfectant clung to the air, mixing with the quiet shuffle of nurses' footsteps and the low hum of distant conversations.
Her gaze was fixed on the linoleum floor, where her scuffed sneakers looked out of place against the polished surface.
Her hands trembled.
Her heart still hadn't slowed down since she had seen him collapse.
The memory wouldn't leave her. Riku's body crumpling to the floor, the sound of his head hitting the hard surface beneath him. The frantic shouting of the teacher. The metallic taste of panic on her tongue as she knelt beside him, shaking his shoulders.
Riku… Riku!
He hadn't woken up.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but the memory only sharpened.
"Aika?"
Aika's head snapped up.
A woman and a man stood at the entrance of the lobby. The woman had dark, shoulder-length hair and wore a beige cardigan over a simple blouse. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, and her eyes—dark, like Riku's—were red-rimmed. The man beside her was taller, his posture tense. His suit was slightly rumpled, and his hand rested protectively on the woman's shoulder.
They looked at her with quiet confusion.
"Are you… a friend of Riku's?" the woman asked softly.
Aika stood shakily. "Y-Yeah. I'm Aika."
The woman's gaze softened slightly. "I'm his mother. This is my husband."
Aika's breath caught. Riku's parents.
"How… how is he?" Aika asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"He's stable," Riku's father said, his voice low and steady. "The doctors are still running tests."
Aika's chest tightened. "Why did he collapse?"
Riku's parents exchanged a brief, guarded look.
His mother's expression dimmed. "He's been… sick for a while."
Aika's heart lurched. "What do you mean?"
Riku's father's gaze darkened. "He has a heart condition. He was diagnosed when he was in middle school."
Aika's breath hitched. "He… never told me."
The woman's eyes saddened. "He never tells anyone."
Aika's fists clenched at her sides. "But—he's always been fine. He never looked sick."
"He hides it well," his father said quietly. "He's collapsed before, but not for a few years. We thought… maybe it was under control."
Aika's hands shook. "Collapsed… before?"
Riku's mother nodded. "The first time was in his second year of middle school. After that, he had another episode a few months later. The doctors put him on medication, but…" Her lips pressed into a thin line. "He hated looking weak. He never let anyone see him when he wasn't feeling well."
Aika's breath turned shallow.
Riku had been hiding this the entire time? He had been smiling and laughing with her while carrying something like this alone?
"Can we see him?" Riku's father asked the nurse at the front desk.
The nurse nodded. "He's awake now. Room 314."
Riku's parents turned toward the hallway.
Riku's mother hesitated, glancing back at Aika.
"You should come too," she said softly.
Aika's feet felt frozen to the floor. Her heart hammered painfully as she followed them down the hall.
When they reached room 314, Riku's father opened the door slowly.
Aika's breath caught in her throat.
Riku lay against the hospital pillows, dark hair falling over his forehead. A thin oxygen tube rested beneath his nose, and the soft beeping of the heart monitor filled the room. His eyes were half-open, hazy with exhaustion.
His gaze drifted toward the door. When he saw her, a weak smile touched his lips.
"Hey," he whispered. His voice was hoarse. "You look awful."
Aika's eyes burned. She stepped toward the bed, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
"You idiot," she choked out.
Riku's smile faded slightly.
"You knew, didn't you?" Her voice trembled. "You knew something was wrong and you didn't tell me."
Riku's gaze softened. "I… didn't want you to worry."
Aika's chest tightened painfully.
"That's not fair," she whispered. "You don't get to decide that for me."
His hand twitched at his side. Slowly, Aika reached down and slipped her fingers over his. His skin was cold.
Riku's mother stepped forward, brushing Riku's hair gently away from his forehead.
"How are you feeling?"
"Tired," Riku murmured.
His father's jaw tightened. "We're talking to the doctors about adjusting your medication."
Riku's gaze darkened. "I don't need—"
"You collapsed, Riku," his father's voice sharpened. "This isn't something you can brush off anymore."
Riku's lips parted, but no words came out.
His mother's hand curled over his. "We don't care if you look weak. We just want you to be okay."
Riku's eyes flicked toward Aika, his expression strained.
Aika's grip on his hand tightened. "I don't care either."
Riku's eyes softened. His hand curled weakly around hers.
"You scared me," Aika whispered.
Riku's smile was faint. "I'm sorry."
"You should be."
She sat down beside the bed, resting her forehead against their joined hands.
"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered.
The sound of the heart monitor filled the silence between them.
Riku's hand relaxed slightly in hers. His eyelids drooped.
Aika sat there until his breathing evened out, her hand still wrapped around his.
And for the first time in hours, her heart began to steady.