Sky blinked awake, disoriented for a moment by the beautiful ceiling with dim chandeliers above him and the quiet hum of medical machines in the background. The pillow was too soft. The sheets too crisp. And the very faint scent of antiseptic confirmed he was definitely not in a familiar place.
His body felt heavy, like it had just finished running through a storm. He shifted slightly—and froze. This wasn't just any bed either.
He wasn't home. He wasn't even in school.
Before he could fully sit up, a figure moved into his blurry line of vision.
"Sky."
The voice was soft, familiar. Urgent.
Chris.
Wait, Chris?
What the hell!
He had thought it was a dream.
Sky turned his head, slowly, eyes struggling to focus. Chris looked like he hadn't slept. But he was here, hovering like he'd been sitting there for a few hours, maybe longer.
"What…?" Sky's voice came out rough and confused.
