Ethan blinked.

  The blur of red and white lights, the low hum of the ambunce, and the faint rhythmic thrum of tires beneath him slowly came into focus. His head ached like a drum being pounded from the inside, and every muscle protested as he tried to move.

  He was lying on the stretcher, arms tucked slightly inward, bnket pulled over his chest. His fingers instinctively brushed against the neckce resting against his colrbone. He frowned, not thinking, just reacting. Something about it felt comforting, familiar.

  “Hey… you awake?” one of the paramedics asked.

  Ethan tried to speak, but his throat was dry, and his voice came out hoarse:“Yeah… I think so…”

  He exhaled shakily, letting his eyes drift around the ambunce. Everything felt… sharper, clearer. He noticed the small details he usually ignored — the way the seatbelt straps dug slightly into his shoulders, the faint sway of the stretcher as the vehicle turned, the rhythm of the paramedics’ movements. His senses felt heightened, though he didn’t understand why.

  A strange calm settled in his chest, a softness that hadn’t been there before. His heart still raced from panic and exhaustion, but beneath it, a trace of serenity lingered — a residue of the dream where he had been Eri, safe and cocooned in her tails.

  Ethan’s hands twitched slightly, curling inward almost instinctively, like he was subconsciously mimicking something he didn’t fully recognize. A tiny shiver ran down his spine. He caught himself brushing the bnket over his chest again, an unconscious protective gesture that wasn’t quite his usual.

  “Easy, buddy,” the paramedic said, noticing him stir. “We’re almost at the hospital. Just rex.”

  Ethan nodded, swallowing thickly. He felt exhausted beyond reason, but somewhere deep inside, a faint, unfamiliar sense of… bance, like a shadow of someone else’s calmness, stayed with him.

  He didn’t understand it, couldn’t name it — but it made the harsh lights, the smell of antiseptic, and the chaos of the ambunce feel just a little less overwhelming.

  And for the first time in days, Ethan didn’t feel like he was entirely alone with his panic.

  The fluorescent lights of the hospital intake burned into Ethan’s bleary eyes as the stretcher rolled into the triage area. The hum of machines, the beeping of monitors, and the murmur of nurses moving with practiced efficiency made him feel more exhausted than ever — and painfully exposed.

  “Fifteen-year-old male, colpsed twice today, extreme exhaustion,” one of the paramedics reported, following closely.

  The intake nurse gave Ethan a quick once-over. “Vitals are dangerously low. You’ve been running on almost no sleep, haven’t you?”

  Ethan tried to nod. The motion was weak, almost pathetic. He wished he could just vanish. Or become Eri — even just for a few minutes, to feel safe again, wrapped in her tails, protected from the harsh reality of the world.

  But the neckce rested firmly against his chest, gleaming faintly in the sterile light. Public space. Nurses. Doctors. Family. No chance.

  His chest tightened. A wave of helplessness washed over him. He felt… trapped.

  Alex followed closely, staying low beside the stretcher. “You’re gonna be okay. Just… they’re gonna take care of you,” he said quietly.

  Ethan wanted to believe him, but all he could feel was a crushing disappointment — a gnawing emptiness. His body ached, his head spun, and somewhere deep inside, a desperate part of him yearned to slip away, to feel like Eri again.

  He swallowed hard, eyes flicking to the neckce. He clenched the bnket instead, forcing his fingers to stay still. No one could see. No one could know.

  The nurse led him to a bed, carefully helping him onto it. A monitor was clipped to his finger; an IV started, bringing in fluids. The steady beeps of the machines filled the quiet space, highlighting every shallow breath he took.

  Alex stayed close, watching him with concern. “Do you want me to stay the whole time?” he asked.

  Ethan gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. He couldn’t expin why he didn’t want company — it wasn’t anger or annoyance, just a raw, hollow kind of shame.

  He wanted to be alone with Eri. Not Ethan, not the exhausted, broken version of himself that the hospital staff was poking and prodding.

  A quiet moan escaped him as he curled slightly, pressing his face into the pillow. For the first time, he admitted it, even if just to himself:

  I… I can’t be her. Not here. Not like this. Not while everyone’s watching.

  The neckce against his chest gleamed, perfectly innocent, almost mocking in its stillness. It was a reminder that the door to Eri was right there, but completely locked in this world.

  Alex’s hand found his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Hey… just breathe. You’re gonna get through this.”

  Ethan’s eyes closed. He nodded faintly. He would survive. Somehow.But the tight knot in his chest didn’t loosen.

  He was awake.He was Ethan.And for now… that was all he could be.