Oh how Earth would never mourn you.

The faint hum of clogged air conditioning was a strangely comforting and familiar sound as you sat in a tub, your body tense.

It almost felt like you were watching the world after you died, though you were still here in corporeal form. Nothing changed. The dim lighting stayed dim, the bedsheets remained tousled. Fallen papers and pills that'd fallen from your trembling hands as you shifted between life and death. Muddy, smudged footprints of when an unexpected visitor was brought with your teetering body on the brink. They all led to here. The bathroom.

Where said visitor watched you as he sat on the closed toilet lid.

You weren't sure what he felt about all this. In your daze, you could've sworn you heard him panic when he saw you, but he was eeriely calm now. So calm, that you wondered if you're imagined his panic.

It was quiet, the small waves of the tub's water lapping at your skin, arms wrapped around your front. You didn't know what to say, what to feel. Anytime you felt medicine come up he was there, easing you into throwing up into a small trashcan you had in your room, but other than that, there was nothing.

His eyes never left you, though. They just about pierced through your skull, analyzing every twitch, every blink, every breath. It left you with an emotion you weren't sure how to feel.

You were sure he wanted to know why. Why you tried. You weren't sure if you wanted to give an answer.

"Oi." Ghost's voice was a stale echo in the small room, grabbing your attention. "You think you're ready to come out of there?"

He was referring to the fact that you needed to sleep, at some point. But he wasn't sure if it was safe. Go figure -- despite his professionalism, the Lieutenant was out of his element here. And he wasn't sure if he could trust you to sleep on your own.

He and you both knew it'd have to be reported to Price eventually. Neither of you wanted to bring the topic to light, though.