Sleep sometimes was like death itself. There were no sensations, no thoughts, only an apparent eternal silence. Nonetheless, unlike the everlasting embrace of death, any slumber had an end.

First, as always, there were echoes. His mind awoke slowly, faintly, to the sound of steps and murmurs. They were accompanied by a beeping noise, not too far. After a few minutes, in which he stirred subtly, he managed to distinguish a few words.

“He’s… call the…”

Steps echoed again, because someone distanced themselves. A door was opened and closed, leaving only one presence nearby. When he opened his eyes, he saw blurry outlines. It took him a few moments to recognize that loving gaze, which was fixated on his.

“W-will?” His partner sighed with a tired smile. The relief was obvious in his expression while he leaned on his chair, noticing well how he began to look around dazedly. “Where-“

As he laid on the bed, the memories of what happened seemed to strike him. His green eyes opened wide, recognizing that he was in a hospital due to an accident. He tried to sit up and reach for his chest, where his worst wound was, but two hands stopped him.

“Lay still.” Conor gave William an apprehensive glance but obliged, resting back as he saw caring sternness in his knowledgeable gaze. “I stopped the bleeding, enough to keep you alive until help arrived. However, it was a deep wound, and it can still get ugly, very easily.”

If William was not tending his injuries right now, it was because he was told not to do so. Although he was a doctor, this was not the hospital where he worked normally. Perhaps he aided the nurses from time to time, but he had to step aside constantly, for all considered that his grief could affect his proficiency.

Those loving brown eyes narrowed, both in shame and worry. Even if Conor stayed still as instructed, it did not prevent his body from growing awake. The numbness he had felt was fading, gradually.

“Conor, I am…” William whispered low, averting his gaze for a moment to take a deep breath. “My silly escapade almost got you killed.”

There was great lament in that apology, but Conor did not look at William while he voiced it. His green eyes had moved subtly to glance at the door of the room. He paled even more, for he saw something, which was haunting.

Something red was flowing slowly under the door. At first glance, it looked like a simple watery stain, but he soon recognized what it really was. A shiver ran down his spine, not only because he felt the pain of his injuries again, but for the fact that blood poured into the room.

William finally noticed that Conor was not looking at him, but it was not because he resented him. His scowl was one of pain, and his gaze was dazed. He regarded his confusion and fear as shock, so he quickly reached for something that a nurse left by.

“T-take this.” Conor blinked, shuddering slightly as his body burned. He stared at the pill and glass of water he was being handed, insistingly. “Painkillers.”

Conor doubted, glancing once more at the door. His mouth opened, yet he could not say anything. He felt like he was being strangled, by a hand that pierced through his body. That blood was now surging into the room, and steps were echoing outside, slow yet intent. There was a constant distant dripping noise, ominous.

He was incapable of speaking, but he was aware of what he saw after the crash. Although he was mystified and curious about that presence, he was also afraid of it. His hand quickly took the pill, and it did not take long for him to swallow it down with the glass of water.

There was instant relief in William’s eyes, while he coughed a little and returned the glass shakily. Conor attempted to say something, yet he managed nothing more than murmurs, weak. As he stared again at the door, a hand was gently laid on his shoulder, easing him back.

The pain faded, and so did the blood. As if it were alive, it receded back under the door, leaving no trace of its presence. Steps echoed once more, distancing themselves. There was an apparent hesitance to it, and the dripping noise slowed down.

Whatever had lurked out there walked away, without being seen by the doctor that neared the room. There were pleasantries exchanged by the two medics, questions and comments, but he paid no mind to them.

Past the numbness he felt, there was something he could not define. He felt a sentiment that was both hurtful and tender. It was a sorrowful wonder, for something dangerous towards his life.

—————–

 

“You are distracted…”

Those voids eyes could not blink, yet that was what they seemed to do. She gave her a blank stare, emotionless yet questioning.

“His survival perplexes me. That is all.”

As always, her voice was monotonous. Her every move and word was serene, displayed as if she disposed of all the time of the world. In a sense, she did.

Death moved her hand away from the bed and its occupant, uncaring of how those eyes lost their life. Pain moved away too, both leaving the room and ignoring the cries of a woman that witnessed the passing of her loved one.

It was a daily occurrence for them, constant. Their eyes saw it every second, in many places at once. Their voices were cold, not due to cruelty, but numb indifference.

“His wounds were truly painful.” Pain looked at her sibling intently, curious in her sternness. “Eons ago, you used to spare people who could beat you in chess. You are not back to your old antics, are you, sister?”

“No, those matches got boring after a few centuries.” As she walked, she left ashes everywhere, her own body dressing her as it decayed. “I’ve been efficient, on point. He was really dying, and he should have perished.”

Pain glared through the walls of the hospital, while she traversed through the figures that she crossed paths with. None of those humans saw the blood with which they were stained, for only the ones who felt death could discern her presence.

Life was always capricious, odd. Not even the two could predict luck. To them, it did not matter if that man lived or not, for an end would come in time anyways. It was not a question of if, but when.

“Will you seek him?”

Death noted the spite in Pain’s words. She usually regarded humans with contempt, having grown tired of their suffering after millennia. Her reply was indifferent, but it hinted curiosity.

“His injuries have been mended, treated expertly. But one never knows, they are still worthy of worry. I may feel drawn soon, like you were minutes ago.”

Pain scoffed, not as contemplative as Death.

“I do appreciate the creation of sedatives. Allows me to walk away from their weak laments.”

Coldness could come in many shapes or forms. Sometimes it was fiery and rash, while icy and critical on other occasions. Both held the same contempt and wonder.

“I shall keep an eye for you then.” Pain did not like those words, for she was quite possessive of Death’s attention. “It is not often that my grasp is evaded.”

“Not for long, I hope.”

“Ah…” Death looked at her own slender and pale hands, pondering. “I do not know, and I won’t twist luck’s wishes.”

Death walked away through a wall, leaving Pain behind. Those flaming eyes narrowed, for she sensed the end of many painful lives nearby, as her sister keep wandering through the hospital.

Their existence was full of casualties, yet it was boring to them. Upon an unusual oddity, one feigned dislike, while the other displayed indifference. However, there was interest, deep inside their unliving hearts.