Tʜᴇ Lɪᴛᴛʟᴇsᴛ Sᴇʀᴀᴘʜ
His eyes open to a bright, white light. Yu is in an unfamiliar room, a white room. The wall beside him is covered in long vertical blinds; over his head, the glaring lights blind him. The air smells of something sharp and antiseptic. He is propped up on a hard, uneven bed - a bed with rails. The pillows are flat and lumpy. There is an annoying beeping sound somewhere close by. His hands are all twisted up with clear tubes that extend to the wall behind him, and something is taped across his face, under his nose.
Yu tries to sit up, but some sort of wide restraining band around his waist keeps him from rising more than a few inches. As he works his way out of the band, he feels a hot liquid seep into his veins from one of the tubes. The burning grows - rising and peaking and rising again until it surpasses anything he's ever felt. The fire blazes hotter and Yu wants to scream. To beg for someone to kill him now, before he lives one more second in this pain. But he can’t move his lips. All he wants is to die. To never have been born. The whole of his existence does not outweigh this pain. Isn't worth living through it for one more heartbeat.
Let me die, let me die, let me die.
What happens next comes to him only in snatches. He sees a familiar head of blonde hair, with eyes that blaze like vicious red flames. The creature looks like Mika, but it’s impossible. Mika died. Yu watched him die. Through the haze of pain, Yu manages a wan smile, the first he’s smiled since he’d been locked up in this sterile white hell. Mika may be just a figment of his fevered imagination, but at least now, he will no longer have to die alone.