Chapter Text
Consciousness gradually trickled in.
Beeping sound nearby filled his ears, his eyelids somewhat felt unbearably heavy. It seems to be sticking together, he belatedly realized everything seems to be constricting. Slowly he opened his eyes and was greeted by a child.
A girl, to be exact.
He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to recall whether he had a child or not. He had no answer, he stared at the girl blankly; that was also staring back at him with wide eyes, seems to be in disbelief and as a few seconds passed by. He heard the girl, slightly limping to the door and came back with a man.
Ah.
His memories rushed back as he recognized the man, "Wang Wei," slipped from his lips unconsciously, as the man rushed over. Wang Wei's expression was difficult for him to read, hands gesturing to the girl.
Tears trailed down from either side of his face. Realization washed over him, as he remembers what occurred before he lost his consciousness. He stared at the ceiling of the hospital blankly—the image of Matia's smiling blurred into bloodied face—ragged breath slipped from his lips, how could he still be alive? Matia was just a fingertips away.
His body quickly sat up, even as pain blossomed. Mind still trying to comprehend the exact calculation behind his survival. Why was he foolishly this resilient? This body of his shouldn't keep him alive, dying in that night sounds preferable than facing all this anguish. Tears still streamed down his cheeks, wetting his hands on his lap.
Matia, oh dear Matia.
Dainty fingers touched his cheek, wiping away the tears. Startling him, heart squeezing painfully as he saw worry marred the girl's features. Eyes screwed shut tight as Matia's face flickered in his mind. Recalling how her hand caressed his cheek.
"Uncle Navin," Rainy's confused voice made it all more painful, he still could feel her fingers lingering on his face. He was glad for Wang Wei, his fate seems to be much kinder than his own. The mute man at least could save his family, but him—ah, it would be better if the man left him to his death.
He took a deep breath, hands grasping tightly the blanket in his lap, "Please leave," he couldn't bring himself to face them right now. It felt all too fresh to be touched upon; he needed to breathe properly before he could see anyone. Even if they waited on him all this time. Their kindness was unnecessary—he was ready to face his death. He could hear their footsteps shuffling, the door opened before it finally closed again.
With a shudder, he gradually opened his eyes only to see Wang Wei on the side of his bed. His expression was difficult for him to read, eyes staring at him blankly. He could feel the mute man's hand on top of his own.
"Why are you still here?" he could see Wang Wei's features contorted, lips slightly parted away only to close it back. Hands seem to be hesitant to move. Instead he chose to squeeze Navin's hand comfortably.
He had an inkling of what it meant. Which infuriated him—eyebrows knitted together as he bit his tongue from lashing out. It wasn't anyone's fault yet, his chest burns while his insides twists trying to comprehend his undeserving second chance of life.
[You're angry.]
A huff of bitter laugh slipped from his lips. Hand covered his face. It wasn't a surprise to come into that conclusion. Eyes screwed shut tight again—he didn't want nor need Wang Wei's pity. He needs—ah, Matia. His dearest Matia, the only sole reason why he even ventures this far. If not for her; he scrunched his nose and gritted his teeth.
Between his fingers, he saw Wang Wei stubbornly stay, the mute man's hand once again rested on top of his own. Those eyes seemed to be gleaming with hope; what exactly he hoped for?
He took a deep breath, head tilted slightly, somewhat found it difficult to open his mouth; there was nothing else that could be said. All he wanted was to unleash these suffocating—taking root deep in his chest—pain, he could feel every muscle shouting for him to stop and take it easy.
"So observant," Roughly he pried Wang Wei's hand off, eyes fully narrowed. Eventually, his gaze softened, body went lax. His strength somewhat seeped away. Gaze averted and instead blankly stared at the wall, "I don't need your help," he murmured weakly, hands clenched into fists, "you already helped enough."
He pushed the mute man, "Just go, go home with your daughter," he took a shallow breath, "enjoy your life with the kid," laying his body back into the bed. Ignoring the pain that continues to spike further, the wetness of something seeps out. He could hear the machine beside him to continue beeping loudly, his eyelids somewhat became heavy. Abruptly everything went to black.
Panic quickly sets in. He rushed outside and called for nurses—there was no way he would let the journalist die. When he hadn't shown his gratitude; if not for the man, he couldn't possibly find and save his daughter.
He watched how the doctor rushed in; he was ushered outside by the nurses. Reluctantly he left the room, sitting outside beside his daughter. He could feel Rainy's eyes on him, looking at him with a questioning look. Gauging his reaction, "Baba," she slowly called for his attention, "is Uncle Navin going to be alright?"
His features slightly hardened for a second, before finally softened. Confused how to answer his daughter, instead of answering, he just held Rainy's hand gently squeezing it. A small smile adorned his lips. Her features contorted before finally she returned the smile. Seemingly to understand the unsaid words, he couldn't bring himself to convey.
Unfortunately, he could only wait for the doctor and nurses to notify him. There was nothing he could do at this point—it wasn't like Navin would be glad to see him again either. He already saw how anger filled the journalist to the brim; it would be difficult to reason with the man that didn't want anything but death.
"Baba," Rainy's hand gently rested on his arm, his gaze softened further, "it's okay, Uncle Navin is going to be okay," she murmured softly, her big eyes looking at him with full-assurance. That made him slightly ashamed of himself, by being anxious over the journalist. He should be the one that assures Rainy instead of being assured.
He let out a soft exhale and patted her on the head. At the same time, he heard the door to Navin's room open—the nurse gestured at him and his daughter to come in. Quickly he stood up, one-hand helping Rainy to walk back to the room.
The moment he was inside, the doctor had a grave expression; it made him slightly dread what the doctor had to say. He hoped it wasn't more life-threatening danger—it was already a miracle Navin woke up from all the injuries he suffered.
Unfortunately, his assumption seems to be half-right; Navin strained his body more than needed. He pulled on the stitches he had; the doctor said to not let Navin exert his body over. A bitter aftertaste lingered in his mouth, it wasn't like he intended to aggravate Navin. But what could he do? Navin wasn't exactly grateful for his survival.
Still, that doesn't mean he regretted his decision. He knew Navin would do the same for him in a heartbeat. Perhaps, he shouldn't visit Navin for a few days—afraid he would aggravate the man's wounds again. His eyes darted towards his daughter, though perhaps Navin wouldn't share the same sentiment towards his daughter.
He looked towards Rainy's leg, maybe not. Her calf hadn't recovered fully yet—he shouldn't let nor make his daughter play as mediator between him and Navin. Hands dragged down his face as he nodded at the doctor's words.
At that the doctor and nurses left the room, leaving them with the still unconscious Navin. The journalist seemed to look all peaceful; vastly different when he saw him earlier. It wasn't like he could predict when the man would regain his consciousness either—it was purely a coincidence he was here with his daughter. If he knew—ah, he wouldn't change his decision.
He pulled her daughter's shoulder closer to him, looked at her with a heavy feeling in his chest. There was nothing else they could do here. It would be in their best interest to go home, Navin would still be here tomorrow; hopefully.
[Let's go home.]
Slowly Rainy nodded her head, her eyes lingered slightly on the unconscious journalist. Noticing this, with a sigh he gave her a small nudge to say her goodbye. Immediately, she beamed a smile at him; seems to be glad to receive what seems to be her father's approval. To say goodbye to the unconscious uncle.
"Baba, let's go," she linked her hand with his as she had uttered her goodbye. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't push nor ask what she had said. Even if he was unbearably curious about it. He just pursed his lips and slightly carried Rainy from putting her body weight on her still healing calf.
Though, he felt something was a bit suspicious with how close her mouth was to the journalist's ear. What exactly was she whispering to Navin? He only could hope it wasn't anything to be worried about.
Matia.
She's here.
Her lips were adorned with a small smile. Hands stretched out to him. However, as he tried to reach out; his hand went through her palm. Confusion etched on his features, he doesn't understand. Why couldn't he touch her; she was here, right in front of him.
Why?
"Navin," her hands gently cupped his face, eyes looking at him softly; as if he was the most precious thing she laid her eyes upon. "it's okay," she murmured those words, wiping away the tears that trailed down his cheeks, "I'm glad you're still alive," her fingers caressed his face gently, then she pressed her lips on his forehead.
He could see her eyes gleaming with unshed tears, body seeming slightly trembling from keeping herself from crying. "Matia, please," he doesn't know what he begged for; whether it was for her to stay with him or was it for her to take him. It felt all the same.
"Please," he shudders, "please take me with you,"
She shook her head at his plea, her tears started to spill; her expression scrunched and lips curled into a sad smile. Her hand pressed tightly to his face, "No," she whispered breathlessly, "you should go back," thumb caressed his cheek, eyes slightly became crescent-like, "I know it hurts, but," she took a deep breath and put some distance, "you still had a life ahead of you, Navin," as she uttered those words, she pushed him roughly.
Making him stumble backward, a sad smile etched on her lips, "I love you, I'll wait for you."
With a gasp, he opened his eyes. He could feel his face wet with tears; he must have shed those when he was unconscious. Matia, her words. She—ah. Hands covered his face, breathing heavily until he could feel his ribcage hurt from the excessive motions. The pain somewhat alleviates the thoughts inside. Keeping him from thinking deeply of what Matia told him.
How could she—after all what he had done—she was the only one he wanted to reach for. For her sake, he did all of these things—Matia, oh Matia. He hadn't even had the chance to say he loves her. How could he live without her? The sole purpose he started all of this was because of her; the moment he heard, she's dead, was also the reason he stopped caring for his life. What use of his life without her by side?
"Matia, Matia," he chanted repeatedly, as if it could bring her back from her death. In desperation—hoping what he did could at least soothe the burning pain in his chest. Fingers dug into his skin, attempting to calm his screaming mind.
Something, he needs something. Anything.
He sat up, instantly pain reared its head as once again he pulled his muscles and the wound he had. Just enough to feel pain, but not enough to tore open his wound. He could tell the bandages were new, wrapped around his body neatly by the nurses.
Fingers itching to pull all of it off; he was about to.
Until his attempts were dissuaded by a hand, holding his wrist tightly—he didn't even sense the mute man's presence—the mute man's expression marred with panic as he saw what he was about to do. Wang Wei's eyebrows knitted together, shaking his head and squeezed Navin's wrist with enough strength for him to feel how shocked the mute man was.
The journalist shook his head at the unsaid question, slightly amused by how harshly Wang Wei moved his hands, "Isn't it clear enough?" he pushed away the mute man, eyes narrowed, "what else beside dying?" The corner of his lips curled as he uttered those words.
[You should rest.] The mute’s man eyebrows still furrowed as he conveyed those words; seems to be adamant to not take the journalist’s words seriously. Like he hadn't just seen him. Trying to pry his wound open. It was quite ridiculous—he couldn't comprehend why Wang Wei would care so much.
He was a nobody to him. Just a stranger with a common objective—the said objective already achieved—what else this mute man wanted of him?
Nonetheless, Wang Wei didn't say anything else. Instead he gently pushed him back to the bed, he seems to regain his composure. That made it difficult to get a read of the mute man's thoughts; not that he was interested either.
He stares blankly at the journalist; mind slightly trying to muster the solution to the current situation. It wasn't exactly easy to sit down in an uncomfortable situation for either of them. Navin was looking at him with a questioning look; his eyes did all the talking, he assumed it was because of his concern. When it hadn't warranted any of it.
Personally, he also felt it was a bit odd—how much he cared for the journalist. They only spent less than twenty four hours together, and most of it was spent on the road fighting back-to-back. In that short time frame, most of it was filled with attempts to not die as he searched for his daughter.
Navin—his thought momentarily went into a halt, noticing something out of the corner of his eyes. Head tilted as he never thought would see it on Navin's bed. Did she purposefully leave it there?
The journalist noticed his gaze and turned his head, a puzzled look etched on his features. Hand reached out and took what seems to be a small doll near his head. The resemblance was quite uncanny; Rainy seems to be quite experienced in making a doll. With how much it resembled Navin.
"This…" the journalist trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as he lifted the doll higher, "is me?"
Wang Wei just tightened his grip on his thigh, chewing on his inner cheek; unsure whether Navin was pleased or upset with the doll's appearance. However, judging how the journalist broke into a small smile—he was certainly happy with the surprise. Then he turned his attention back to him.
"Rainy made this, didn't she?"
He nodded slowly. An inexplicable expression etched on Navin's features; his eyes stared at the doll intensely while his fingers brushed against the doll gently. As if he was savoring something, though he couldn't understand why Navin did that.
It was just a simple doll.
Rainy also made one for him; he still kept it in his room. Displayed with other gifts she gave to him. However, he also could sense something shifted with Navin. The man seems to be more relaxed and he doesn't seem to be—desperate? Like earlier. Did Rainy predict this? Or was it a simple whim from his daughter?
Lips pursed as he recalled his daughter's expression. It slipped out of his watch—Rainy didn't just whisper something, she also left something behind.
"Okay," Navin simply murmured as he put his hands down; eyes looking at him with a glint. He couldn't put name on, still in the process trying to understand what he just witnessed, "I suppose, I could try," Navin added with eyes shut tight, hand still holding the doll pressed against his bandaged chest.
Wang Wei's mind still couldn't catch up; what exactly did Navin mean by that? He was about to ask, unfortunately before he could, the journalist had already fallen asleep. A sigh slipped from his lips, fingers tapped his forehead lightly—seeping with frustration, missing the chance to say something.
Nevertheless, there would be still another chance; he also hadn't conveyed what he was meant to do either. He was supposed to offer Navin a place to stay, albeit temporarily, but at least it would soothe his conscience. Somewhat to repay what Navin had done for him and his daughter—even if it seems to be not proportionate. It was the least he could do.