Every breath you take
Every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
I'll be watching you

The seconds dropped by as slowly as a clogged IV refusing to release its contents.

Not a single patient had strayed here that evening - no casualties, no distractions, no incidents. Just the monotonous silence that slowly, inexorably crept up the walls, dissecting my mind layer by layer as if I were the subject of a clinical examination.

Apparently, the night had been largely peaceful. No one at the Beach seemed particularly keen to spend the only non-gaming evening in the infirmary. No one came to rescue me from the unspeakable monotony. No one came to stop me from feeling the urge to look out of the window. So I had to do it myself and keep myself busy.

I started reorganising the medicine cabinet, checking stocks, even meticulously disinfecting instruments that hadn't even been used - a completely pointless series of activities to kill time. The distraction worked for exactly nine minutes. Then my thoughts drifted off again. My movements became slower, my grip on the scalpel in my hand unconsciously tighter.

And then, without meaning to, I thought of her laughter. Of her light-heartedness when she had been down by the pool.

Together with him.

I paused, stopped what I was doing, looked back at the window. Resisting the urge to go over.

Were they still there? Down by the pool? Or were they back at the ball by now, tightly entwined, dancing to some cheesy song?

The thought made me snort in frustration.

What had I done wrong? What had I overlooked? Had I been too subtle? Should I have been more forward-shown more interest, courted her more openly, deliberately drawn her to me? Would it have been wiser to stay at the ball and charm her? Ask her to dance?

Maybe.

I forced myself to take my eyes off the window.

It was only when I resumed my work that I realised how tense I was - my jaw muscles ached from unconsciously grinding my teeth, my fingers tensed around the cold metal of the scalpel.

I was agitated. A feeling that rarely came back to haunt me. I couldn't even remember the last time something had thrown me off balance like this. Perhaps sometime in my childhood, when my father had once again proved to me how insignificant I was to him. But that was a long time ago. I had learnt to let these things bounce off me, to observe them with the composure of an outsider. I had perfected it.

But today... today was different. Something about what had happened had left a bitter aftertaste, something that was bothering me unnecessarily longer than it should. But I didn't know why.

Yes, it was perhaps a minor setback. But nothing that couldn't be rectified. Izumi was clearly interested in me. I had seen it - in her posture, her gestures, the way she could barely look at me without blushing. Everything about her body language pointed to it.

Why was I worried?

Aoyama was averagely attractive, moderately intelligent at best and had no self-control whatsoever. A guy who was as emotionally unpredictable as a stray dog. What did he have that I didn't?

What did he have to offer?

Nothing.

Nothing that should worry me. The decision would hardly be difficult for Izumi either.

And yet...

And yet there were faint doubts that I couldn't ignore. Or maybe they weren't doubts... Maybe it was more like... displeasure. Annoyance. About myself. About the fact that I hadn't taken the initiative long ago, even though I could have done so many times. What made me hesitate? She had been there, right in front of me. There was nothing that could have stopped me, not even the puppy, if I had really wanted to.

So, why hadn't I done it?

I wasn't the classic Casanova who had one woman after another in bed, but I wasn't a saint either. I knew how women worked. Had gained enough experience to understand what words they wanted to hear, what subtle signals they sent when they were interested. I was no romantic, no amorous fool who clung to the illusion of an interpersonal connection.

Physical attraction had never been more to me than another basic human need. Something that could be reduced to a simple desire. An impulse that, when it made itself felt, had to be satisfied. Just like hunger or thirst.

I had never looked for more. Because it wasn't necessary. Because it didn't interest me. The women I had slept with were merely a means to an end. Sex with them was for satisfaction - to satisfy my hunger. Nothing more and nothing less. I had always looked at it that way. Logically, objectively.

Feelings, on the other hand. They were unnecessary, an annoying disruptive factor in an otherwise simple dynamic.

And love.

Love was a mirage that people fooled themselves into believing so as not to feel alone. A fantasy to feel needed and useful. Nothing that I thought was worth striving for. Nothing I needed or required.

But despite everything, I knew how to use my charm when I wanted to. And I could be very persuasive when I wanted to be.

And yet ... I had hesitated.

Why was it different this time?

Why hadn't I taken the initiative long ago, even though the opportunity had presented itself several times? Why was the thought of seeing Izumi in the same way as all the other women ... unpleasant?

I didn't like questioning myself. But this feeling - this underlying, vague unease - couldn't simply be ignored.

Because it wasn't just about gaining her trust.

I wanted more than that.

I wanted her to look at me. I wanted her to want me.

That she turned to me, not out of necessity, not by chance, but of her own free will.

I wanted her to choose me over him.

I rubbed my temple with two fingers as if I could chase the thoughts away.

No.

I wouldn't lose control. Not over her. And certainly not over myself. The goal was clear. I just couldn't lose sight of it.

With a soft sigh, I put the utensils aside and put them back in their places. Not because I was planning to go back to the ball - that had been done once and for all.

Instead, I would return to my suite, far away from the sluggish monotony of the infirmary, far away from the superfluous thought loops that led me to the same point again and again. It was pointless. And I probably didn't need to hope for patients at this late hour either.

I went over to Ann's office, opened the locker and started to unbutton my gown. But just as I was about to slip it off my shoulders, I heard it.

A soft, hesitant knock.

I stopped moving and listened.

Silence.

I shook my head. Had inertia slowly put me into such a drowsy state that I was starting to hallucinate sounds, or was it just some drunks loitering outside the door having a bad joke?

"Come in."

My voice was quiet, almost casual.

No reaction.

I waited.

Maybe it really was just a stupid prank?

I shook my head, took off the gown and hung it back in the cupboard.

Then again. A knock. Stronger this time, almost insistent.

My gaze narrowed slightly. Either this was someone who had no idea how a door worked, or else... someone who couldn't simply enter. Someone that was hurt perhaps?

With a slight frown, I reached for my coat again, slipped it on and stepped quickly into the next room.

"Come in," I repeated, a little louder this time.

Again, no response.

It was starting to get annoying.

I sighed softly, walked to the door and yanked it open with a jerk - ready to confront the prankster who obviously had nothing better to do with their time than to prevent me from finishing work.

What I saw was a vague figure moving in the dim light of the corridor - not slowly, not hesitantly, but in a hasty escape.

I reacted instinctively.

"Hey, stand still!"

My voice echoed through the empty corridor as I took a step forwards. Before they could get away, I grabbed their wrist and held it back with a firm grip.

They whirled around.

I only recognised her when the light from the infirmary fell on her face.

Two large, dilated eyes looked at me, glistening wetly in the light.

"Izumi."

I stared at her. Her lips quivered slightly, but she said nothing. I scrutinised her silently. Strands of damp hair stuck to her face and her thin top was soaked to the skin. Apart from that, she was only wearing underwear, the damp fabric of her dress clutched tightly to her chest as if it offered her some form of protection.

My gaze slid further down her body, following the water that dripped from the red fabric onto the floor and collected in a small puddle under her feet. She was barefoot and blood was running down her leg in small rivulets from her knees, mixing with the drops of water.

I raised my eyes again and scrutinised her in silence, my hand still gripping her wrist tightly. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. Anything.

She lowered her head in shame. Her fingers clutched the damp dress as if her life depended on it.

"It was a mistake to come here," she mumbled, barely audible, and suddenly wanted to tear herself away from me, but I wouldn't let her, holding her wrist firmly in place. "I can manage," she hissed defiantly and tried again, this time with more vigour - to no avail.

"So that's what someone who can manage looks like?" I replied dryly.

She grimaced, almost as if she expected me to say something else. Something... more compassionate, perhaps.

I could feel her trying to pull away again. But I continued to hold her effortlessly.

"Let me go, Chishiya," she hissed.

"And where exactly do you want to go in this state? Back to the ball, for example?" I replied dismissively.

"I just... wanted to..." she stammered, desperately searching for words.

"You just wanted to catch pneumonia. Yes, I can see that."

She flinched slightly at my words, almost reflexively.

I sighed softly, loosening my grip a little, but only to gently direct her towards the infirmary.

"Come on, before you collapse on the floor and I have to carry you in."

She opened her mouth as if she wanted to protest, but then she lowered her head and let me pull her inside without resisting.

I only let go of her when we reached the treatment couch. She stared at me in disbelief, her dress still pressed tightly in front of her body to cover her chest.

"Sit down," I said with a curt gesture as she just stood there, unable to tear her gaze away from me.

She hesitantly lowered herself onto the couch, drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around her trembling body.

I scrutinised her again.

Something had happened, that much was clear. I just had to find out what.

Was it Aoyama? Had they argued again? Or was it something else?

Whatever it was.

I sensed an opportunity. It was as if the universe had heard me. Not that I believed in higher powers, but it felt like fate - just enough to make me question for a moment whether her presence was really just a coincidence.

She was distraught, confused and she had found refuge here of all places. I refused to believe that she was here to seek medical help. She was looking for something else. For comfort, emotional support, a shoulder to lean on. It was a perfect opportunity that I wasn't going to let pass by.

I had turned away to go into the adjoining bathroom and came back to her with a fresh towel.

"Give me the dress," I said, holding my hand out to her. "I'll hang it up to dry."

She hesitated. To maintain decency, I demonstratively averted my eyes from her. I felt her hesitantly put the dress in my hand. In exchange, I handed her the towel. At least it was big enough for her to cover herself with.

While she was drying herself off, I gathered some disinfectant and bandages.

I could feel her piercing eyes following me around the room. She still didn't say anything. I knew I had to be patient if I wanted to find out the truth.

I pulled up a stool and sat opposite her.

"Show me your knees," I said in a neutral voice, pulled on my gloves and reached for the tweezers and swab.

She lifted her legs a little while I inspected the wounds on her knees more closely. There were a few abrasions, nothing serious, but some of them were deep enough that they should at least be cleaned.

As I began to apply the disinfectant, I felt an intense tremor go through her legs.

"Try to stay calm," I said, gripping the back of her knee to hold her still during the treatment. Her skin was ice cold.

She twitched again, pulling the towel tighter around her as if she feared it might slip at any moment. She had wrapped it around her body in a makeshift manner, just enough to cover her bare thighs. Her trembling eased a little, but the tension remained.

"Aren't you going to tell me what happened?" I asked without looking at her as I dabbed the blood from her legs.

She didn't answer immediately, as if she seemed to be thinking about what she was ready to tell me.

"I..." I heard her swallow hard. "tripped."

I looked at her and raised my eyebrow sceptically. She avoided my gaze.

"So, tripped?" I repeated slowly. "And you happened to fall into the pool and lose all your clothes?"

She pressed her lips together, chewing uneasily on her lower lip.

Her gaze remained stubbornly on the floor, as if she could stop me from asking any more questions. But we both knew that wouldn't work. I wasn't Aoyama - I wasn't going to be fobbed off with a half-hearted excuse.

When I'd put the last plaster on her knee, I leant back slightly and crossed my arms.

"All right," I finally said, as if I would let her get away with her game of denial. "You just tripped. Then I'm sure there's no reason for you to be here any longer."

She blinked and clenched her hands tighter around the towel. I noticed how her shoulders shrugged slightly - barely noticeable, but there nonetheless. She lowered her head a little again, staring at her hands.

"I don't know why I came here," she finally confessed quietly and huddled under the towel, seeking protection. "I was just ... confused."

I looked at her in silence for a moment. Her downcast gaze, the way she tried to crawl into the towel - as if she could use it to hide from reality.

I took my time before answering, letting the silence weigh on her for a moment.

"Confused?" I finally repeated.

Izumi pressed her lips together again, as if she regretted saying anything at all. But that was the beauty of silence - it forced people to fill it. I knew she wouldn't be able to hold out for long.

"It's just..."

I let my gaze wander briefly over her face. Her eyes were red, tears were in them, but she fought them down bravely.

"Aoyama?" I asked her.

She just nodded.

"What did he do?"

I tried to make my voice sound a little softer than usual.

She was still staring petrified at her knuckles, but then, as if my tone hadn't failed to have an effect, she dared to raise her head briefly. Our eyes met and the heart in my chest tightened painfully.

"He has..." she broke off, as if she didn't know how to say it. Then she took a deep breath: "He kissed me."

I looked at her in silence. I waited for her to continue, but she didn't.

Outwardly, I remained calm, as I usually did, but I could feel that it was much harder for me this time. But I shouldn't have been surprised. It was predictable that he would try something like this sooner or later. This guy was as predictable as a beagle blindly chasing after a tasty bone. Not that I wanted to compare Izumi to a bone, but he followed his impulses with the same primitive naivety.

"So?" I asked calmly, almost casually, as if I wasn't really interested.

But I felt my shoulders tense a little as I waited for her response.

"I ... returned it - at first," she added quickly. It sounded like a justification that I hadn't even asked for. "But then..." she broke off and started kneading her hands in her lap, visibly nervous.

"Then you ran away?", I helped her out.

She nodded again. Still avoiding my gaze, as if her hands were more interesting.

And me? I found it hard to suppress a smile. I nodded slowly, trying to hide the triumph that was spreading through me.

She had rebuffed him, had simply fled from him.

If that wasn't a victory all down the line.

I took my time with my answer, watching her carefully as I weighed up the words. Too much sympathy and she would become suspicious. Too little and she would close herself off further. I chose the middle way - a mixture of detached interest and subliminal mockery.

"I assume you didn't run away because his kissing technique was so disastrous, did you?" I asked, slightly amused, to draw her out a little.

I watched as she blinked at me and her cheeks coloured a little.

"No, that wasn't the reason," she emphasised with her lower lip pushed forward, visibly outraged by my comment.

Obviously not the right moment for a humorous remark.

"Did I get that right? He kissed you and you ran away from him, half-naked, barefoot, wet to the bone and the first thought that came to your mind was to run to the infirmary - to me?"

My voice was cool, neutral, as if I had just made a trivial observation.

It was a rhetorical question, because we both knew the answer. And yet I had deliberately thrown it into the room.

She looked at me as if realising for the first time how it must sound to an outsider. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something back, but then closed it again. Her face lit up discreetly.

But then suddenly it all gushed out of her:

"I thought I could get it back. The feeling from before. I thought it could be like it was back then. But it was ... different. It didn't feel the same, you know?" Her voice sounded breathless, almost rushed. "And then I just started running. I didn't know where I was going. I just wanted to get away. And then ... then I ended up here." She lifted her head, looked at me - a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. "I don't know why," she breathed, almost silently.

I did know.

I knew exactly.

But I didn't contradict her, letting her believe that it was just a coincidence that had led her here. Maybe she knew it too, but wasn't ready to admit it to herself yet.

I didn't say anything back, just left her words in the room. I just watched her - her slumped shoulders, the tension on her face, the way she pulled the towel tighter around her as if she could protect it.

Then I noticed it.

An almost imperceptible tremor ran through her body, barely visible, but it was there. Her skin was still clammy and fine goose bumps were spreading across her arms.

I got up without saying a word, went to the wardrobe, opened it and pulled out a warm blanket. I could feel her eyes on me, slightly unsettled. But she didn't say anything.

When I came back, she looked up at me in disbelief, as if she hadn't expected me to care. With a casual hand gesture, I shook the blanket apart and spread it over her shoulders. I did it deliberately slowly, letting my hand rest on her shoulder longer than necessary as I pulled the blanket tighter around her.

"You're shivering," I said matter-of-factly and lowered myself onto the examination table right next to her.

My eyes lingered on her face, scrutinising the traces of the night. Puffy eyelids, smudged mascara, a thin film of water and sweat on her forehead. I casually lifted my hand to wipe a wet strand of hair from her forehead. I felt her flinch under my touch, almost as if I had burnt her. Yet she was the one burning - from the inside out.

I placed the back of my hand against her forehead, scrutinising. Her skin was warm, warmer than it should be. Izumi's breathing tightened and became shallower.

"You have a slight fever," I stated objective and withdrew my hand. "Maybe it felt different for you because you've changed."

I watched as she processed my words. Her fingers unconsciously tightened in the fabric of the blanket as if she could hold on to it. Her gaze wandered around the room for a moment, uncoordinated, as if she was looking for an answer she didn't know herself.

"Maybe..." she mumbled, but then she paused. She chewed on her lower lip, bowing her head slightly. "But he still means a lot to me. I didn't mean to hurt him, but I'm afraid that's exactly what I did."

I snorted softly, shaking my head.

"Heroic," I replied disapprovingly. "So you're lying to yourself by forcing a feeling that hasn't existed for a long time, and you run away because it doesn't feel right. But now you feel guilty because you're afraid you might have hurt him by doing so?" I summed up.

Izumi seemed to flinch again at my words. Her fingers tightened further in the fabric of the blanket, as if she could cling to it to protect herself from the truth that I was relentlessly presenting to her. She lowered her eyes, turning her head away slightly as if she could block me out that way, but I knew my words had reached her.

"I-... I didn't mean to," she finally mumbled. "I didn't mean to hurt him."

I crossed my arms and scrutinised her motionlessly.

"If that's the case, then you should keep lying to him - to him and to yourself."

Her head jerked up and her eyes widened.

"W-what?" she stammered indignantly, as if I had just made an absurd accusation.

I smiled coolly.

"You see, you realise how stupid that would be. You don't owe him anything, Izumi. Not your time. Not your explanations. And certainly not a guilty conscience. The only thing you owe him is the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it may be."

She audibly sucked in her breath, her shoulders twitching slightly as her fingers clutched the blanket even tighter. Then she suddenly let go, exhaling shakily as if releasing all the tension that had built up inside her. She sobbed quietly and pulled the blanket tighter around her body as if it were her personal protective cloak.

Before she could lose herself any further in her own chaos, I slowly lifted my arm and then gently placed it around her shoulders. I felt her stiffen briefly, almost reflexively. Her gaze shot up to me - a mixture of disbelief and confusion in her eyes, as if she couldn't comprehend what was happening. But then - almost imperceptibly - she relaxed a little.

I patted her head briefly before gently pulling her against my chest. Her forehead sank against my shoulder, her still damp hair sticking slightly to my skin. The heat from her body burned against my neck as her warm breath gently moved over my skin.

I wasn't normally the type to offer comfort. I didn't even know if this even passed for comfort or if it was just a casual gesture I was disguising as a strategy. And yet, the moment she took a deep breath and her hand tightened around my shoulder, I knew it was working.

She didn't move. Her fingers clutched lightly at the fabric of my gown without tightening her grip - as if she didn't know whether to come closer or keep her distance. My muscles tensed almost reflexively, but I forced myself to ignore it.

"What's worse?" I continued quietly, almost imploringly. "Giving him false illusions while you yourself are unhappy, just to spare him? Or to play with open cards from the start and hurt him once instead of letting him cling to a lie that will be exposed sooner or later anyway?"

A thick silence fell over us, covered only by the soft whirring of the neon lights and Izumi's quiet breathing. She was probably trying to find a hole in my logic, something to counter it.

But there was nothing.

Because we both knew I was right.

Finally, she moved her head and nodded weakly.

"You say that so easily, but what if I lose him? Forever..."

"If he only loves a version of you that no longer exists, then he's not worth it anyway."

The words came so easily that I was surprised for a moment. By my standards, they sounded surprisingly... empathetic.

Maybe I should have become a couples therapist.

On the other hand... I'd rather not.

I'd probably be the one needing therapy afterwards because I'd drive the whole emotional mess insane. For a moment, I imagined myself staring out of the window after a session, soul-crushed and questioning my existence. No, this was definitely not my purpose.

We stayed in this position for a moment without saying anything. It was as if she had to let my words sink in, as if she needed time to let them sink into her mind.

Her closeness. Her warmth.

It felt... strange.

Not unpleasant. But different. Unfamiliar.

My gaze slid over her briefly. Her cheek was warm against my shoulder, her grip on the blanket had loosened, as if she had stopped holding on to it. It was a strange feeling to feel her so close to me - not because it was uncomfortable, but because it felt so... natural.

Too natural.

I only realised it when my own breathing became a touch too shallow, when my heart hammered one beat too many against my ribcage. A tiny flare of something that shouldn't be there. Something that wasn't supposed to exist.

I pushed it gently away from me, barely noticeable but firm. A few inches away, just enough to re-establish the boundary between us. She looked up as I disengaged, slightly taken aback, almost as if I had snapped her out of a dream.

I sighed and got up to go to the cupboard again to look for a fever reducer. I could literally feel her questioning look drilling into my back, but she said nothing.

After a short time, I returned with a warm cup of tea and a paracetamol. Wordlessly, I held the tablet out to her while I put the cup down on the table.

"Here, I have little desire to go through the rest of the week alone if you are carried off by a plain cold," I said again with my usual sobriety.

Even though proximity was part of the plan, the distance felt more natural. It was familiar territory.

"Thank you, Chishiya," she whispered, a slight reddish glow adorning her cheeks as she accepted the tablet.

The sight set my pulse racing a little, but I ignored it.

I reminded myself.

If I was too dismissive again now, I would have lost my chance.

"Get some rest now, Tsuki," I murmured, my voice deeper than usual, almost velvety.

And I knew I had struck the right chord when I saw her eyes widen at the sound of her first name on my lips for the very first time.

There we go.