The hospital was quieter at night.
Too quiet.
Visiting hours had ended for friends so only the Guardian is able to stay.
Heaven and their friends had finally gone home after making sure Zane was awake and stable. The hallway lights dimmed slightly, casting long shadows against the floor.
Zane lay in bed, half-awake.
His mother sat in the chair beside him, fingers laced together. Rain dozed against her shoulder.
The monitor beside him beeped steadily.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Normal.
Too normal.
Around midnight, his mom stepped out briefly to speak with a nurse. And Rain had fallen asleep again in the waiting area.
Zane was alone.
The room felt colder than before.
He stared at the ceiling.
The beeping slowed.
Beep.
Pause.
Beep.
Longer pause.
His eyes shifted toward the monitor.
The green line trembled.
Then—
It dropped.
Flat.
A sharp, continuous tone filled the room.
But Zane didn't feel panic.
He didn't feel pain.
He didn't feel anything.
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then the overhead bulb went out completely.
Darkness swallowed the room.
The flatline continued for several long seconds.
Too long.
The air felt heavy. Pressurized.
Like something unseen had stepped inside.
Zane's eyes were open.
Wide.
Unblinking.
The darkness didn't scare him.
It felt familiar.
A whisper brushed across the back of his thoughts — not words, not a voice, just a presence.
Waiting.
Watching.
Then—
The lights snapped back on.
The monitor jolted violently.
The green line spiked upward.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Stronger than before.
Zane inhaled sharply, like someone resurfacing from deep water.
A nurse rushed in moments later, frowning at the monitor history.
"That's strange," she muttered. "Must've been a system glitch."
Zane didn't correct her.
Because he knew it wasn't.
(The Next Morning)
By the time his mother and Rain came to discharge him, everything looked normal.
Too normal.
His mother pulled him into a tight hug the moment he stood.
"Don't ever scare me like that again," she whispered, voice shaking.
Rain crossed her arms, trying to look tough.
"I told Mom you'd wake up," she said. "But she cried. Like, a lot."
"I did not cry a lot," their mom protested softly —
but her red eyes said otherwise.
Zane smiled faintly.
"I'm okay," he said.
And he meant it.
At least physically.
(At Home)
The house smelled warm when they returned.
His mother insisted on cooking something comforting — oyakodon, steaming bowls placed carefully on the table alongside miso soup and pickled vegetables.
"Eat slowly," she instructed.
Rain immediately started talking between bites.
"Today at school, Rama tried to convince everyone he can run faster than a dog," she said dramatically. "And then he tripped over nothing."
Zane let out a quiet laugh.
"Did he blame the ground?"
"Yes!"
Their mom smiled softly, watching Zane more than eating.
"...Are you really okay?" she asked gently.
Her voice wasn't casual.
It was afraid.
Zane paused.
He felt fine.
Better than fine.
His body felt lighter. Clearer.
Too clear.
"I'm okay," he repeated.
Rain leaned forward. "You scared me too, you know."
He blinked.
"You did?"
She nodded quickly. "Yeah. I thought you were gonna—" She stopped herself.
Silence lingered.
Zane reached across the table and lightly flicked her forehead.
"I'm not going anywhere."
The words felt strange in his mouth.
Like a promise he wasn't fully sure he could control.
(That Night)
His room felt different.
Not colder.
Not warmer.
Just... still.
Zane sat on his bed and looked at the ceiling.
He pressed a hand against his chest.
His heartbeat was steady.
Slow.
Measured.
Almost too measured.
He closed his eyes.
Sleep came quickly.
But it wasn't normal sleep.
He stood somewhere endless.
No hospital.
No house.
No sky.
Just white.
Stretching infinitely in every direction.
And far ahead—
A faint silhouette.
Tall.
Indistinct.
Not threatening.
Not welcoming.
Just there.
Waiting.
Zane tried to move toward it.
But the ground beneath him felt like water.
Rippling.
Unstable.
The silhouette tilted its head slightly.
Like it recognized him.
Then—
Darkness.
Zane woke abruptly.
The clock read 3:17 AM.
His room was quiet.
But his breath fogged faintly in front of him.
Cold.
The air wasn't cold.
He reached for his phone on the bedside table—
And noticed something strange.
The digital clock beside him flickered.
3:17.
3:17.
3:17.
The numbers glitched briefly—
Then corrected themselves.
He stared at it for a long moment.
Then slowly lay back down.
Outside, the wind picked up.
And for a split second—
He could've sworn
someone was standing in the corner of his room.
Watching.
He blinked.
Nothing was there.
But his heartbeat—
remained perfectly steady.
Too steady.
Closing Line
Zane had come home from the hospital.
Alive.
Breathing.
Smiling.
But somewhere between the flatline and the flicker of the lights—
something had followed him back.