I was still thinking about Henry when I entered the corridor.

It was late, past midnight; me and Dr Senju had stitched and talked for hours. I had gotten some material for suturing with me home so I could practice until we met again next Friday. I had even gotten myself some anesthetics and a syringe to practice pulling it out of the bottle and applying it to the fake skin. And some aseptic. "Always good for a med student to have", Dr Senju had said and winked. I expected the corridor to be pitch black, but to my surprise saw a warm glow from the door opposite mine, to the right in the corridor.

Tobirama's door.

I felt an electrical shock of hatred through my body, but it didn't quite reach my heart. Remember, I told myself. Remember what he did to Henry. Even so, I couldn't bring myself to hate him. Not after what his mother had told me about his father. Did I feel sorry for him? I thought about my own father, so warm, so kind, so submissive, so hard-working so that his family could have one extra loaf of bread each month even if it tasted like cardboard but of course, we wouldn't notice as that was the only bread we'd ever had. Suddenly, I missed my family like crazy.

I tiptoed over the lush carpet in the corridor, and as I got closer, I heard sounds from his bedroom. Oh my God, was he fucking someone? I shuddered. But not only because of disgust. There was something else there as well that I did not understand. 

I ignored it.

But no, it wasn't those kinds of sounds. They were sort of retching, desperate, and shot daggers through my heart. What in the world...

I tiptoed to his door and peeked around the corner.

What I found was a scene that would change my life forever.

Tobirama was on the floor, curled up into a ball, looking all but alpha. His hair was a sweaty mess, his long-sleeved, petrol blue top torn apart. He was lying in a puddle of blood that dyed his hair and even his lashes. He was shaking and whimpering. Next to him lay a device that must've been his phone, but I wasn't sure as I had never seen one before.

With two long strides, I stood over him. All my hate was gone. All my doubts were gone.

"Oh my God, Tobirama..." I whispered.

He hadn't noticed I was there until now, and looked up. Tears were streaming down his face, and he quickly looked down again.

"Leave..." he said weakly. "Please..."

I never in a billion years thought I'd hear him plea to me. I bent down.

"Give me your phone." I picked it up as if it was made of porcelain as I didn't know how brittle it was. "I need to call an ambulance."

"NO!!" he suddenly screamed, grabbing my wrists.

And that's when I saw the source of the blood.

He'd cut his wrists through his sweatshirts, all the way to the muscle in several places. His sudden movement caused a heavy waterfall of blood to pour out, and he had to lay his head down again. I put a hand on his head in comfort, lifted the phone to me.

"I'm calling", I said.

"Please, no..." he whispered. "He'll find out..."

He's talking about his dad, I realised. I looked at him, then the puddle of blood, then back at him. Then, I nodded.

"Fine." He slumped in relief. "Fine. No ambulance. I honestly don't know how to use a phone anyway." There was a silence then, a silence I believed under different circumstances would make place for Tobirama's laugh. I wonder what your laugh sounds like. "I'll try to fix as much as I can myself. If I'm incapable, you're showing me how to call. Okay?"

He nodded tiredly, and I got to work.

I took out my hairlip and re-did it in a bun so my hair wouldn't get in the way and contaminate his rashes. I took my linen shirt off, not caring that it left me bare chested. For just a fraction of a second, he glanced over at me, and his face changed in a way I couldn't pinpoint. But then, the tiredness of having lost so much blood came over him, and he lay his head down again.

I put pressure on as many wounds as I could using my linen shirt, tying it around his wrists. Then, I unpacked all of my suture materials. I cleaned the first wound, pulled anesthetics out of it with the thick needle, then switched to a thin needle, went through the rash and started injecting it in a fan pattern. Tobirama's brows creased, but he didn't make a sound. I started sewing, fist intracutaneously, then on the skin. I took my time, taking great care to make the stitches perfect. One after the other, I closed his wounds. It took me a good hour, but the result was very satisfying. During this time, Tobirama's breathing, previously fast due to the blood loss, slowed down. I checked his pulse, and since it was still strong, I wasn't worried. I trusted my intuition. In the end, I was done, and I looked down on him. He had his eyes open, so he was awake, but he didn't move or speak or look at me. He just lay there, the blood drying on the carpet. I stood up, and he looked at me worryingly, as if scared to be left alone.

"Don't worry. I'll just fetch something."

He put his head back down and seemed to slump in pure relief. It was endearing. And confusing.

I went to his neat bathroom and took his hand towel, which I wetted with water. I came back to him and started cleaning off the dried blood. He didn't move, just gave himself over to me completely. It was such a vulnerable and strange moment, him being the most dominant alpha I had ever come across that I, without thinking, took his head in my hands, shifted so I sat closer to him, crossed my legs and put his head in my lap. He didn't object. I stroke his head gently, twisted and untwisted his hair with my fingers until I heard him starting to snore softly. I felt tiredness creeping up on me as well. I put his head down carefully, then curled up next to him, my head touching his abdomen, and fell asleep.

I woke up by the sun tickling my eyes. I opened them carefully, recognising the sensation of my own bed underneath me. But then, I saw the entire room was mirrored. I sat up in panic. Not only was it mirrored; I didn't recognise it as my own.

It's Tobirama's room...

I went dead still. I was in his bed, clad in only trousers, my linen shirt neatly hung up on the desk chair, still covered in blood. And everything from last night came back to me.

I looked round. There was still the dried puddle of blood on the carpet. The suturing material had been thrown into the rubbish bin. I was in Tobirama's bed, having seemingly been tucked in with two pillows and a duvet. The couch, mirroring the one in my room, was messy with a blanket and pillow, meaning that's where Tobirama had slept. He... He tucked me into his bed? I looked towards the door, not clearly visible behind the bathroom. He could've just taken me to my room; it was unlocked. But he hadn't. He'd chosen to keep me here...

Of Tobirama, there was no trace. He wasn't in the bathroom. He wasn't in his kitchen corner. He hadn't left a note. In chock, I stood up, took my shirt and backpack and tip-toed out.

When I came back into the corridor, it was past midnight again. Some part of me hoped Tobirama's door would be open, its warm glow flowing out as an invitation, of course this time without all the blood. But it was closed. I had no idea if he was home or not. I went to his front door and knocked, wanting to see if he was okay. There was no stir, and I could see his lights weren't on. I guessed he was asleep.

Turning to my door, I saw something on the floor in the dark, just in front of it. What the... I bent down, and picked up whatever it was. It was soft. I opened my door and turned on the lamp in the hallway. And my jaw dropped.

In my hands was an incredibly soft plush toy. I had never had one, but even so, I could see this must've been expensive.

It was an alpaca, about as high as three of my palms, and it was exactly the same color as Tobirama's hair. Around it's soft neck was a note attached with a hairband. Thank you, was all that the note said.

I closed the door behind me, kicked my shoes off, threw myself on my bed, hugged the alpaca close to me and wept.