The hospital hallway had emptied.
Lina was taken back to her room,
Sally walked with the doctor,
and the lights dimmed to a soft evening glow.
The boy sat alone on a bench near the window,
knees pulled close,
hands still trembling faintly from everything that had happened.
His eyes were red.
His breaths shallow.
He looked small—
not physically,
but in the way someone looks after breaking open a part of their soul.
Footsteps approached.
Slow.
Heavy.
Uncertain.
The boy didn't look up.
He didn't have to.
He knew the steps.
Jack stopped right in front of him.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Jack looked down at the floor,
hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets,
jaw tight,
eyes avoiding the boy's face.
He exhaled slowly.
"I heard… everything," he said quietly.
The boy said nothing.
Jack swallowed hard.
"What they said to you."
His voice softened in a way it never had.
"What you said back."
Still, no answer.
Jack's throat tightened.
He sat down beside him.
Not too close—
just enough to share the same silence.
Minutes passed.
Jack finally spoke again.
"…I'm sorry."
The boy froze.
He turned slowly, shocked.
Jack kept staring ahead,
eyes fixed on the floor.
"I'm not good at this," he muttered.
"I've never apologized to anyone before."
He clenched his hands.
"But I need to say it."
His voice cracked slightly.
"For what I did to you.
For making things worse when your whole life was already…"
He swallowed.
"…falling apart."
The boy blinked.
"Nobody forced you to go through what you did," Jack whispered.
"No kid deserves that.
Not even someone I hated."
He turned his head just a little,
enough to finally look at the boy.
"And I did hate you," he said honestly.
"Because hating you was easier than understanding you."
The boy swallowed hard.
Jack continued.
"But today…"
He shook his head slowly.
"Today I realized I never knew anything.
You were just a kid.
A scared, hurting kid.
And I made your life worse."
His voice shook—
only for a second,
but enough to show something raw beneath the surface.
"You didn't deserve what I did to you," he said quietly.
Silence.
The boy's eyes filled with tears again—
but this time not from fear…
From being seen.
Really, honestly seen.
Jack looked away again, embarrassed.
"If you want to hate me," he muttered,
"I'll accept it."
The boy stared at him.
Then he whispered:
"…I don't hate you."
Jack stiffened.
"What?"
"I don't," the boy repeated softly.
"I was terrified of you… yes.
But I never hated you."
Jack's jaw tightened.
He hadn't expected forgiveness.
He didn't know how to hold it.
The boy wiped his eyes.
"And you helped me," he whispered.
"With the panic attack.
You didn't have to.
But you did."
Jack looked down.
"Yeah, well…"
he muttered gruffly,
"don't get used to it."
The boy gave a tiny, broken laugh.
Jack cleared his throat—
the closest thing he had to vulnerability.
"I'm not asking you to trust me," he said.
"I haven't earned that.
But…"
He looked at him again—
not harsh,
not dominant,
just human.
"…I'm trying."
The boy nodded slowly.
"I know," he whispered.
For a long moment,
they simply sat together—
the strongest and weakest parts of both of them exposed in the fading hospital light.
Then Jack stood.
"I'm still not good at this," he said.
"But if anyone hurts you again…"
his eyes darkened,
"…they'll deal with me."
The boy stared at him.
Something warm and fragile entereThe hospital days grew quieter.
Slower.
Gentler.
And strangely… calmer.
Jack found himself returning more than anyone expected.
Not with anger,
not with arrogance,
but with something unfamiliar—
something almost liOne afternoon, the boy was sitting in the garden outside the hospital,
hands shaking as he tried to drink from a cup of tea.
Jack sat beside him without a word.
The boy stiffened.
But Jack didn't smirk.
Didn't tease.
Didn't mock.
Instead, he slid a pack of cookies toward him.
"…They're not awful," Jack muttered awkwardly.
"Thought you might want some."
The boy blinked in surprise.
"…Thank you."
Jack shrugged.
"It's not a big deal."
But it was.
For both of them.
They talked—
slowly, carefully—
about nothing important.
Yet somehow…
it felt important.
At one point, the boy laughed at something Jack said.
Jack froze, staring at him like he'd just witnessed a miracle.
"…Don't do that," Jack grumbled.
"Do what?"
"Laugh."
His ears turned red.
"It's… weird."
The boy laughed again.
Jack looked away quickly,
Every time Lina walked down the hallway,
Jack's eyes softened without him noticing.
He carried her water bottles.
Made sure she had blankets.
Sat beside her when she grew dizzy.
Once, she stumbled a little.
Jack caught her instantly—
hands steady, grip gentle,
eyes full of panic he tried to hide.
"Careful," he murmured.
"I'm right here."
Lina's cheeks turned pink.
"You don't need to stay with me all the time."
Jack's voice lowered.
"I want to."
And he did.
He stayed.
He talked with her softly at night.
Listened to her stories.
Shared little pieces of himself he'd never said out loud.
She touched his hand once—
lightly, accidentally.
Jack's breath caught.
HeThey sat together one evening in Lina's hospital room—
Lina resting against her pillows,
her brother reading quietly,
and Jack fixing the broken remote of her hospital TV.
Sally opened the door, saw the scene, and whispered:
"…Well. That's cute."
Jack glared.
Sally smirked.
But the truth was obvious:
They weren't three separate people anymore.
They were becoming something like…
A small, strange, healing family.
And Jack—
Jack was letting himself be a part of it.
Something he nevThat night, Jack stepped out to buy Lina a new bottle of her favorite juice.
The hallway was dim,
lights humming softly.
He was calmer than he had been in months—
maybe years.
He even allowed himself a small smile
as he thought of Lina waiting for him.
Then—
he reached the corner.
Stopped.
Every muscle in his body froze.
His breath left him.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
His eyes widened, filling with disbelief,
fear,
and something darker.
Standing at the end of the hallway…
a figure.
A silhouette.
Someone Jack never expected to see again.
Someone from a past he thought was buried.
The bottle of juice slipped from his hand and hit the floor.
His voice was barely a whisper.
"…No.
It can't be."
The figure stepped forward just enough for Jack to see the outline—
And his entire face drained of color.
Shock.
Terror.
Rage.
All at once.
Jack took a step back, trembling.
"…You."
Fade to black.
er thought he'd deserve.
didn't pull away.
Neither did she.
but a tiny, reluctant smile tugged at his lips.
ke… effort.
d his chest.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Jack gave the smallest nod—
barely a movement—
and walked away.
Not as an enemy.
Not as a threat.
But as someone who, for the first time…
Cared.