He’d heard it from his so-called ’friends’ — how smart Ruby had become. How they all regretted laughing at her, saying she was too ordinary to stand out. Now they whispered about her robes – famous even in the City now– her raincoats selling out before the drizzle even touched the streets. He wore one himself, though he’d never admit it out loud. It was warm and didn’t make him itch like the old scratchy ones.
Louis wiped his mouth with the back of his fat hand, leaning back smugly. If Milo dies... maybe she’ll finally see how good I am. How rich I am. How much better off she’d be. He didn’t see his mother’s sharp eyes narrow at him, the tips of her claws tapping harder against her teacup.
She sipped her tea, her lips twisting in that same cruel smile, as the rain outside fell heavier against the window.
It had been six hours since Milo had been wheeled into that cold, sterile room behind those heavy double doors — six hours of nothing but the soft hum of the hospital lights and the faint echo of passing footsteps. Not a single clock ticked loud enough to break the silence that settled over everyone gathered there.
Ruby sat slumped forward, her elbows on her knees, her eyes raw from staring at the glowing red "In Surgery" sign above the ICU. Her hands kept wringing the edge of her robe sleeve, over and over again.
And Karl dozed fitfully, his head dropping onto Pillu’s shoulder one moment and snapping back up the next, like his dreams wouldn’t let him rest.
Adrian hadn’t moved from his spot against the far wall, arms folded so tightly across his chest they looked carved in stone. His eyes were sharp but empty fixed on the floor tiles as if he could burn a hole right through them and find answers below.
But it was Julian who looked the worst. He hadn’t sat down in hours, instead pacing back and forth. His skin was pale, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes sunken and glassy. A small unopened bottle of water sat on the chair he hadn’t touched. His hands shook whenever he paused to wipe his sweaty palms on his trousers.
Kenji stood there holding a paper bags of warm buns and a flask of tea. He looked at Julian with quiet worry, his brows drawn together.
"You should at least eat something for strength," Kenji said gently, stepping closer and trying to press the bag into Julian’s hands. "If you don’t, you’ll faint before Milo even wakes up."
Julian’s eyes darted up, wide and hollow. He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue — to say How can I eat when he’s in there alone? but the words tangled on his tongue. He just swallowed, shoulders slumping as he took the bag reluctantly, holding it as if it might burn him.
"Thanks... Brother Kenji..." he said hoarsely, but he didn’t open it. He just stood there by the window, eyes drifting back to the doors, like if he looked away for even a second Milo might slip through his fingers forever.
And outside the glass, the drizzle kept falling...steady, soft, indifferent to the fear and hope clinging to every heartbeat in that quiet hall.
Kenji could see it written all over their faces — the exhaustion, the hollow eyes, the gnawing fear that made their shoulders tense every time the ICU door rattled with passing footsteps. He knew if he didn’t step in, none of them would eat a single bite until someone forced them.
So he did what he always did best, taking care of people without making them feel like burdens. He moved from one to the next, handing Pillu a cup of tea, pressing a bun into Karl’s hand even when Karl sniffled and tried to refuse. "Eat it," Kenji said gently but firmly, tapping Karl’s forehead with his knuckles. "Milo would scold you if he saw you crying and starving at the same time."
He poured a cup of tea for Ruby, crouching in front of her so she had to look up. Her hands trembled as she took it, her eyes glassy but grateful. "Thank you, Kenji..." she whispered, her voice cracking. He just squeezed her shoulder, staying there until she sipped enough to make her body relax, even if only a little.
Adrian tried to wave him off, his arms still crossed, but Kenji just stared him down until Adrian let out a heavy breath and finally accepted a bun and a cup of tea. "You’re all Milo has," Kenji said quietly, his voice low enough for only Adrian to hear. "Stay strong for him."
Finally, he returned to Julian, who still stood stiffly by the window, hands clutched tight around the paper bag. Kenji pressed warm tea into his hand, covering Julian’s cold fingers with his own. "One sip," he murmured, his tone steady but kind. "One bite. That’s enough. Then you can worry all you want."
Julian’s throat bobbed as he forced himself to nod. He took a small sip, just enough to chase away the worst of the shivers.
And so, for a little while, the hallway felt less suffocating.
"He will get better," Angeline murmured, her voice soft but firm as she leaned closer to Ruby, gently squeezing her hand. The words didn’t magically erase the fear pulsing in Ruby’s chest, but they settled there like a warm stone, steady and grounding.
Angeline’s eyes flicked across the hallway, watching Kenji hand Adrian another cup of warm tea while Hugo quietly coaxed Karl into nibbling at a half-finished bun. Even Leo and finn was there, trying to distract Karl by making silly faces or nudging him with gentle jokes.
A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Angeline’s lips–proud, a little wistful. She felt her chest swell with quiet gratitude. How lucky I am, she thought. How lucky I am to have them.
—To be continued...🪄