Guilty Souls

The sound of a monitor beeping could be heard in the room. It was the loudest sound there was. Laying in a humongous bed was mad in his late forties. 

His eyes were closed and his breath was even. A needle was stuck in his wrist. His leg was elevated above his body as a caste could be seen from where it hung in the air.

His other hand was held by another that fit perfectly into his. Contrary to the peacefully sleeping man, the one holding him looked worried and exhausted.

Edgar's gaze never wavered from the love of his life. He found himself kneading Bastian's hands between his as he occasionally brought it to his lips. 

The former director looked like he had aged somewhat albeit how robust his frame appeared. His shoulders were slouched down a little as though the weight of the world was too much for him to bear.

He was deep in thought, worried for the man he would gladly die for. A soft knock came from the door breaking him out of his reverie.