Noah Langford - October 2120
I step inside without waiting for a clear invitation, because the fact that he moved aside at all is enough.
The room feels wrong straight away. Curtains drawn, air heavy, everything slightly too still. It looks like somewhere time has stalled rather than passed, and it mirrors him more than he probably realises.
I take that in quickly before focusing back on him.
Up close, it's obvious. He looks exhausted, worn down in a way that isn't just physical. There's tension sitting in his shoulders, in the way he holds himself, like he hasn't let himself relax even once.
"You haven't been taking care of yourself" I say. It isn't meant as criticism, just observation.
Ethan lets out a quiet breath, dragging a hand down his face again. "Not really the priority right now."
"It is if you intend to be useful," I reply. "You can't keep going like this without it catching up to you."
He lets out a small, humourless laugh and shakes his head. "You really do make everything sound like a system."
I don't react to that. "The principle still applies."
There's a pause as he looks at me, like he's trying to decide whether to argue or just let it go. In the end, something in him gives way first.
"How is he?" he asks, quieter now.
"Stable," I say. "He hasn't woken up yet, but there's no sign of things getting worse."
I don't soften it. There's no point.
Ethan nods slowly, like he's trying to hold onto that without fully trusting it. "Stable…" he repeats under his breath.
"For now," I add, because anything else would be inaccurate.
His shoulders drop slightly, not relaxed, but less rigid than before. It's enough to tell me the information matters.
Silence settles for a moment, but it's not empty. It's full of everything he's not saying.
"You're not responsible for what happened" I say after a beat.
"I heard what you said," he replies, a little sharper, though the energy behind it is fading. "That doesn't just fix it."
"I'm not trying to fix it," I say. "I'm correcting the way you're looking at it."
He frowns slightly. "That doesn't make it feel any different."
"I know" I answer.
That seems to throw him off more than if I'd argued.
"Then what's the point?" he asks, frustration slipping through again.
I consider that for a moment before answering.
"Because the way you're handling it right now isn't helping anyone," I say. "And it has consequences outside of you."
His gaze drops for a second. "What do you mean?."
"Kai."
There's no reason to avoid it.
Ethan exhales slowly, looking down at his hands. "You really think me being there would make a difference?"
"Yes" I say, steady, without hesitation.
He looks up at that, caught off guard by how certain I am.
"He responds to you" I continue.
Ethan's expression changes, just slightly. The guilt is still there, but something else pushes through it. Something quieter.
"I don't know if I can just walk in there and see him like that" he admits.
"I'm not asking you to pretend like nothing happened," I say. "What you're feeling doesn't need to change."
He lets out a breath, tired. "That's easy for you to say."
"It isn't" I reply, quieter this time.
That makes him pause.
"You think I'm unaffected because I don't show it," I continue. "That's not the same as not feeling it. I'm choosing not to let it interfere."
He studies me for a moment, like he's trying to decide whether he believes that or not.
"I just…" He stops, running a hand through his hair again. "Every time I think about going in there, all I see is him collapsing. I can't get past it."
"That's normal," I say. "Your brain is holding onto the worst part because it mattered the most."
"That doesn't help."
"It's not meant to help," I say. "It just explains it."
He exhales again, slower this time.
"You don't need to get past it," I add. "You just need to keep on moving."
Ethan huffs out a small breath, something close to a laugh but without any real humour. "You make it sound simple."
"It is simple," I say. "It's just not easy."
That earns a slight shake of his head, but the tension in him has eased, even if only a little.
I shift my weight slightly, and the weakness hits again, subtle but there. Enough to make me adjust. Ethan notices immediately.
"You really shouldn't be up," he says, looking at me properly now.
"That's already been established."
"And you're still ignoring it."
"Yes."
He exhales, somewhere between annoyed and resigned. "You're going to pass out again."
"Unlikely," I say. "But I'll take that into consideration."
He stares at me for a second, then shakes his head again. "You and Kai are the same. You're both impossible."
"I've been told that before."
That almost gets a reaction out of him.
I let the moment settle before speaking again, more directly this time.
"Come with me."
He doesn't answer straight away. He just looks at me, weighing it, the hesitation still there but not as solid as before.
"You don't have to stay," I add. "You can leave whenever you want. But staying here isn't helping."
That's as close as I get to pushing.
Ethan looks down for a moment, then back up, his expression still uncertain but softer than before.
"…Okay," he says quietly.
I nod once and turn toward the door, not waiting long enough for him to second guess it.
______________________________________
As we step back into the medical ward, the atmosphere shifts immediately. It's quieter here than before, but not in a peaceful way. More like everything is holding its breath, waiting.
Sophie is standing beside Kai's bed, carefully adjusting the IV drip with steady hands. She's focused, but I can see the tension in the way her shoulders are held.
She looks up at the sound of us entering, and the moment she sees me, her expression changes.
"Oh... Noah… I was wondering... where you went," she says, her eyes widening slightly as she takes a step toward me. "I was... worried."
"I am okay" I reply, keeping my tone even, controlled. "And I would like to extend my thanks. For assisting both myself and Kai."
Her reaction is immediate. She flushes, waving her hands quickly like she's trying to dismiss it.
"Oh no, you don't have to... thank me," she says, a little flustered. "I just… I wish I could have done more."
"That is not accurate," I say simply. "You contributed the most."
She pauses at that, clearly not expecting it, and for a moment she doesn't seem to know how to respond. Then something behind me shifts and Sophie's attention moves past me, her expression lighting up with surprise.
"Ethan!"
He steps in properly now, just behind me. "Hi, Sophie" he says, attempting a smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.
It doesn't last long anyway. The moment he sees Kai, everything else falls away.
There's no hesitation this time. No pause, no resistance like before. He moves straight to the bed, like something in him has already decided this is where he needs to be.
He reaches Kai in a few quick steps, his hands already lifting to gently brush the hair back from Kai's face, careful, like he's afraid even the smallest movement might hurt him.
"Hey…" he says softly, leaning down to press a kiss against Kai's forehead.
The smile he gives is fragile, barely holding together. "I think you've had enough sleep now. It's time to wake up."
His voice cracks at the end despite the effort to keep it steady.
He doesn't pull away fully. Instead, he lowers his head, resting it lightly against Kai's chest, like he needs to feel the movement there, to reassure himself it's real. The steady rise and fall to prove that he is still alive.
I watch the monitor briefly. There's a slight shift in his heart rate. Subtle, but consistent.
Ethan continues, his voice quieter now, almost like he's talking more to himself than to anyone else.
"Jack's been asking about you," he says, his fingers curling slightly into the fabric near Kai's shoulder. "He keeps talking about how you promised to train him again."
A pause.
"And Miriam… she wants to cook for you when you wake up. Said she's planning something special this time."
His voice breaks again, softer now, and this time he doesn't manage to steady it. Tears slip down without him trying to hide them.
No one interrupts. The room stays quiet, the only sounds coming from the steady beeping of the monitor and Kai's slow breathing.
Ethan reaches for Kai's hand, threading their fingers together carefully, like it's something fragile that might break if he's not gentle enough. He squeezes it, then lifts it just enough to press a brief kiss against it.
"What am I supposed to do without you?" he murmurs. The question hangs there, heavier than anything else he's said.
I step forward then, closing the distance between us.
"You can start by helping me" I say.
It's not harsh, but it cuts cleanly through the silence.
Ethan lifts his head, turning to look at me. His expression is still unsteady, but there's something else there now. Something that's not just grief.
"Help you… with what?" he asks.
"With preparation," I reply, shifting my attention briefly to the monitors, the equipment, the environment around Kai. "When he wakes up, there is a high probability of confusion, stress, and physical instability. Reducing external pressure will improve recovery."
Ethan watches me for a second, processing that.
"We can organise the room, review what's already been done, and ensure there are no additional complications waiting to present themselves," I continue. "If there are variables we can control now, we should."
I look back at him fully.
"It will... give him less to deal with when he wakes up." That seems to reach him in a way the rest didn't.
He glances back down at Kai, his grip tightening slightly around his hand, then nods once.
"…Okay," he says quietly.
It's still soft, still fragile, but steadier than before.
It's enough to move forward.