Leo sat on the edge of soft bed of the hospital wing, silent.
The pain in his shoulder had dulled, numbed by the academy's standard-issue healing patch. A fresh shirt hung loose around him, covering the scrapes and burns left behind. But nothing touched the raw ache inside his chest. That sharp, unfinished sound in his skull still echoed faintly, like a bell that had rung once and never again.
He stared at the floor, unmoving. The ward was quiet now. Rosa had helped him limp back hours ago. She had lingered, trying to get him to say something. He hadn't. Not really. Just vague nods, short replies, eyes unfocused. Eventually, she left.
He was grateful for that. He needed silence.
He needed time to mourn the moment that never came.
But Miss Charlotte was not giving him that silence. She was busy chattering away with someone, possibly with some injured student or one of the staffs. Miss Charlotte chats with anybody regardless of age or status.
