The hospital air always smelled faintly of bleach and something sterile, something that reminded Jason of endings.
He wasn't supposed to be here. Not on his schedule, not in his plans. Yet his driver had dropped him off without question, and Jason found himself walking through the white halls like he belonged there.
His shoes clicked softly against the polished floor. Every door looked the same — numbers in neat black plates, curtains drawn, machines humming. Too clean. Too quiet. It reminded him of when he was younger, standing outside similar doors with adults whispering behind him, deciding who mattered and who didn't.
The room number flickered in his mind — he'd memorized it when he quietly checked Daisy's reports the other night. Braxton never talked about his sister in detail, but Jason wasn't stupid. He knew what that kind of silence meant. Silence was usually a shield.
He stopped outside the door. For a long moment, he just stood there, hand hovering over the handle, weighing whether to walk in or walk away.
Inside, a soft laugh broke the silence. It wasn't Braxton's voice — lighter, feminine, tinged with something fragile. Jason pushed the door open.
The girl on the bed looked up. She was thin, too thin, her skin pale under the fluorescent lights. But her eyes — sharp and bright — caught him instantly.
Braxton sat beside her, back straight, shoulders squared even here. His surprise at seeing Jason was clear, but his expression remained disciplined, controlled.
"Sir," Braxton said after a moment, rising from his chair. "I didn't expect you here."
Jason's gaze flicked between them. "Neither did I."
Braxton hesitated, then gestured toward the bed. "This is my sister."
The girl tilted her head, lips curving faintly. "So you're Jason."
Jason inclined his head politely. "And you must be Brielle."
Her smile was small but warm. "Didn't think someone like you would look so… normal."
Jason chuckled softly. "Disappointing, isn't it?"
Her laugh came again, softer this time, but it quickly broke into a cough. Braxton was at her side instantly, steadying her with a hand at her back. His face barely moved, but Jason could see the way his fingers tightened slightly, as if he could will away the weakness shaking her body.
Jason's gaze lingered. "How long has she been here?"
Braxton glanced at him, hesitation flickering across his eyes — then, with quiet respect, he answered. "Too long."
Brielle beat him to it, her voice light despite the rasp. "They say I've got a few good months left if the treatments hold. Maybe more, maybe less. Depends if we can pay for the new round."
Jason's face stayed calm, but his chest tightened. Hospitals were battlefields where money decided who lived and who didn't. He knew that truth far too well.
Braxton straightened, his voice firm but controlled. "I'll handle it."
Jason looked at him for a long moment, then nodded slightly. "I don't doubt it."
Brielle blinked between them, sensing the weight in their silence. To break it, she said softly, "Most people avoid hospitals unless they have to."
Jason gave a faint smile. "Most people don't know what it's like to lose someone here."
That quiet truth settled into the room, softening even Braxton's steady mask for an instant.
Jason pulled a chair closer, not asking permission, but not forcing himself in either. He sat, and for the next hour, he stayed.
At first, the conversation stumbled. Brielle fidgeted with the blanket, Braxton watched every word, and Jason leaned back with his usual composure. But then Brielle asked about the outside world — the kind of little things most people ignored.
"What's the city like now?" she asked suddenly. "I haven't been out in… months."
Jason raised a brow. "Crowded. Noisy. Too many cars. Too many people pretending they aren't miserable."
She laughed softly. "Sounds about right."
Braxton gave a quiet shake of his head. "You could've said the parks are blooming, sir."
Jason smirked. "I could have. But that wouldn't be honest."
Brielle's smile widened. "I like him."
Braxton exhaled faintly, a sound caught between disapproval and reluctant amusement.
The conversation eased after that. Brielle told stories of her childhood — climbing fences with Braxton, sneaking candy into the house, getting caught stealing apples from the neighbor's tree.
"You were a menace," Braxton muttered, but his eyes softened.
"You helped me," she shot back, grinning.
Jason leaned forward, interested. "Braxton, a menace? That I'd like to see."
For once, Braxton almost looked embarrassed. "We were children."
Jason chuckled. "I don't believe you."
Brielle's laughter filled the room again, fragile but full.
When the energy dipped, Jason shared one of his own memories — sneaking out of the Yun estate as a boy, desperate to see the world beyond the gates. He described how he'd gotten lost in the city for hours, wandering alleys until the guards finally found him and dragged him back.
"Did they punish you?" Brielle asked, wide-eyed.
"Of course," Jason said simply. "But it was worth it."
She giggled so hard she nearly cried, and even Braxton allowed the faintest twitch of a smile.
As the hour stretched, Jason found himself watching the siblings more than speaking. The way Brielle leaned into Braxton's presence, the way Braxton's shoulders relaxed when she smiled. For all his stoicism, Jason could see it — Braxton's world was here, in this single room.
Jason rose at last, the chair legs scraping softly against the floor. The air in the room felt different now. Not heavy. Not sterile. Almost warm.
"I'll let you rest," Jason said, smoothing his coat sleeve.
Brielle tilted her head. "Come back sometime. It's not boring when you're here."
Jason's lips curved faintly. "I'll consider it."
Braxton followed him out into the hall, pulling the door shut gently behind them. His posture was straight as ever, his voice low, respectful. "Sir… forgive me, but may I ask why you came?"
Jason's gaze lingered on the closed door. "Because she deserves better than to be another casualty of this world. So do you."
Braxton's expression didn't change much, but something flickered in his eyes — a mix of surprise and a weight he didn't show often.
Jason smirked faintly. "Take care of her, Braxton. The rest… leave to me."
He walked away, calm as ever, leaving Braxton standing in the quiet hall — still the composed soldier he always was, but with something new pressing against his chest.
For the first time, loyalty didn't feel like duty. It felt like gratitude.