One of the first things Jin hears when he woke is rain.
It isn't anything heavy — just a soft, steady drizzle that brushed against the window like a thousand small secrets being whispered. It is the kind of morning that refused to hurry. The sky outside the blinds was the color of wet ash.
Jin sits up in the chair, neck stiff, muscles protesting. The digital clock on the wall reads 07:27 A.M.
Jin meant to stay awake, to keep up as long as he can and then filter into rest like he always did, but exhaustion had caught up with him somewhere between the rhythm of the soft platter of rain and the echos of the morning birds signing.
Jin doesn't know what he's doing, especially when he silently walks to Ashton's room and stands a few feet before his bed, watching Ashton as he's still asleep.
