𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇 Suguru Geto

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

THE STERILE WHITE OF THE HOSPITAL WALLS seemed to vibrate with an aura of quiet anticipation as Suguru briskly made his way through the labyrinthine corridors. His heart pounded in his chest; each beat a fervent drumming of hope that resonated through his veins. Today was a day of profound significance, a page turning in the chronicle of his life, for he was headed to Y/N's room with a heart that brimmed with equal parts excitement and trepidation. The air itself felt charged with a sense of urgency, as if the universe itself held its breath, waiting for what was about to unfold.

News of her awakening had reached him like the soft rustle of leaves in a gentle breeze—an echo from the realm beyond, a whisper that carried with it the promise of hope renewed. For so long, she had been suspended in a realm of silence, her voice lost in the labyrinthine corridors of her unconscious mind. The doctors had spoken in hushed tones, explaining the fragile nature of her awakening, how her journey back to consciousness was still a delicate balance between the known and the unknown.

And yet, here he was, traversing those very corridors in search of the answer to the question that had haunted him for countless days and nights: Would she ever wake up? His mind was a tempest of emotions, a storm of yearning and uncertainty. The weight of his feelings bore down on him like the gravity of a collapsing star, and he could hardly believe that he was steps away from seeing her again, from perhaps hearing her voice, from holding her hand in his.

In his hand, he clutched a vibrant bouquet of flowers, an exquisite arrangement that seemed to hold the essence of a thousand sunrises. The blooms were a tapestry of colors, each petal a delicate stroke of nature's brush. As he walked, the fragrance of the flowers danced around him, a scent that carried with it a paradoxical blend of sweetness and melancholy.  His footsteps carried him to her room, where the door stood ajar, an invitation to a world of possibilities. The soft light from the window cast a warm, golden glow upon the room, creating an ethereal aura around her resting form. The rise and fall of her chest were a rhythm that echoed through the room, a heartbeat of its own. Suguru's breath caught as he stepped closer, his eyes fixed on her face, a face he had memorized in all its intricacies.

The sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, illuminating her features like a halo of hope. He could see the faint flutter of her eyelashes, the gentle curve of her lips, and he wondered what dreams she might be weaving in the depths of her slumber. Time seemed to stand still as he stood there, the bouquet of flowers a silent testament to his hopes and fears. With a reverent touch, he placed the bouquet on the small table by the window, allowing the flowers to weave their own tale of beauty and impermanence. Each petal seemed to hold a whisper of fleeting moments, of delicate emotions that mirrored his own. It was a gesture that had become a part of his routine—a ritual of devotion that he enacted daily, even in her unconscious state. The flowers were like a silent symphony, a melody of colors and fragrances that sought to awaken her slumbering soul.

But today, there was a difference, a profound shift in the tapestry of his existence. Today, he wasn't just leaving the bouquet as an offering; he was leaving it as a promise, a silent vow that he would be there when she finally opened her eyes. The vibrant blooms stood as a testament to the vitality of life itself, a reflection of his unwavering belief in her strength to overcome whatever had held her captive in the realm of dreams.