Title: The Visitor
Note: This is an old drabble I wrote a while back. Thought I would share it.

He sat in bed, deep blue eyes lingering on the world outside his hospital room. His mind kept drifting over what had happened, and he reminded himself that there was nothing to regret, except that he did not have much time. Time, though, was always something that felt in short supply for him. For as long as he could remember it was a question mark, but when he could manage it, he never gave up. It was just one of life's mysteries, and he always amazed the doctors with his recoveries.

He lived with a broken heart.

A soft, slightly bitter chuckle left his throat at the thought, the figurative and physical ironies compounding in his mind. His heart was bad, and it was indeed broken.

Would she never forgive him?

Would she even come to visit, would she, even if she knew where he was?

No, not his girl, she was much too weak for that.

She had a vision of health in her mind and she kept him there eternally, she wouldn't want to admit this weakness of his. Even if she hated him and, for the moment, it was fine that she did, so long as she was free and could see for herself that she was wrong.

He had left her with the only words he knew how to give her. He said, "Don't worry."

He shifted his position in the bed. The sound of shoes striding toward his room gave him pause. He never had many visitors, mostly doctors and nurses. The occasional relative would filter in but not often. He wondered if he had fooled them into thinking he would die one too many times, only to spring back to life. A small pain squeezed at his chest and he winced a bit as his hand reached over. He could call the nurse but such pain was common and passing. It filtered away slowly and he was left to recover from it when someone entered the room.

At the sight of the girl, the very sight of her, his eyes narrowed. There wasn't a need to pretend any longer and he still hated her. She was nothing. She was a liar and he had proved it. She was a tiny thing, an insect, deserving of her fate under the weight of his boot. He wanted to tell her to get out, but she had a curious expression on her face. It was one of pure contempt.

Good, let her hate me then. It's better we feel the same for each other anyway, he thought as she pulled herself closer to his bed.

For a moment he thought she was just going to stare at him and then leave. He was perfectly fine with that prospect. He didn't particularly wish to speak with her anyway, but she pulled up a chair and took a seat. There was darkness to her violet eyes that he had not noticed before. After all, when he looked into her eyes before there was only the light spark of wanting that he had placed there, and then of course, there was the flowing of her tears once he had proven his point concerning her. Once he had set his trap to free the one he loved.

"I hate you." She said quickly, that jagged little voice laced with much he recognized.

He set his jaw and tried not erupt with anger. He wanted to. She had no business being there. Why was she bothering him with such trivial things? Why would he ever care how she felt?

He would never forgive her, not for anything.

"Is that all," he managed to ask, a slight sneer pressing at his lips.

She looked away and then brushed her hair back from her face. "I could hate you forever for what you did to me."

There was more, he could feel it, more jagged meaningless nothings waiting on her tongue. He was uncertain why he was letting her continue; perhaps it was the look in her eyes.

"I suppose we have that in common,” Shiori finally said. “We'll probably never forgive each other, but it's okay, Ruka. I'm happy for it."

"Pardon?"

"You showed me who I really am."

Her eyes narrowed with something that was not quite bitter. She looked like she was going to cry but she didn't. She held herself very well, for one confronting a sick man in a hospital. He wondered if she knew how insulting she was.

She shifted in her chair and chewed at her bottom lip for a moment and then continued, "I don't like who I am. I've never...never really liked who I am, but now...after you... I could almost hate myself."

Only, almost, he thought. You should hate yourself. You should remember your place.

"Why are you here? In fact, how did you even know where I was, Shiori?"

"A mutual acquaintance was kind enough to direct me in your direction." She grimaced and then said, "I wanted to thank you, Ruka, for being a bastard and showing me what I am. That is why I am here."

He gritted his teeth and then relaxed his jaw looking away from her. "You have given your thanks, and you may take your leave. I don't want anything to do with you."

She got out of her chair, pausing to state, "She'll never forgive you if you die. Try not to."

He tried to wrap himself around the words as Shiori made her way out of his room. He wanted to stop her and ask what she had meant, why it mattered, but he didn't. He couldn't even muster a command to the insect that she had better not tell Juri where he was. He wanted to say he didn't want or need of visitors, but the words were frozen in his throat.

Juri would never love him, that he was certain of, but it was okay so long as she stopped loving Shiori, as long as she was free, and could see and-

Ruka put his hand back to his chest again as the pain returned. He winced, clenching his jaw as he rode it out, and then he started to laugh. It was too much...it was too much to wish for. It was like wishing that Juri would love him. And Shiori wanted to thank him for showing her what a horrible person she was.

What had he done?

What had he opened things up to become?

His chuckle died away slowly and he reached for the call button, pressing it and asking hurriedly for the nurse.