"He'll be alright," Dr. Han said, nudging his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he stepped back. "But that was dangerous. How did he end up staying in the cold for so long?"

"I'm— not sure," Toshiro shook his head, as if bewildered. "I suppose he got lost and couldn't find his way back home – he only just arrived here a few days, you know. I sent him on a short errand to grab something from the store, and I didn't realize that he might not know the way back. Thank goodness I found him."

"Well," Dr. Han said, packing up the medical instruments he had brought. "Keep him warm, definitely. Have him rest, and he should come around sooner or later. Call me again if you notice any more symptoms."

Toshiro ducked his head, nodding a respectful agreement. "Yes, thank you, Doctor."

He stared at the door for a long moment after Dr. Han left, relieved that there hadn't been too many questions. He'd called in the doctor and opted to bring Zhou back to his apartment, guessing that it would raise fewer suspicions than having to fill out all the paperwork at a hospital. Even so, he'd quickly grasped for an alibi before deciding to pass Zhou off as a cousin visiting America who was staying with him during the winter vacation. The doctor had seemed to find that believable, at least.

Breathing in, he turned his attention to Zhou, huddled in blankets on the bed of the guest room. He hoped he'd do okay: he had no experience taking care of a kid, or barely anyone, for that matter, having lived alone for the past few months.

A corner of the blanket was starting to fall off the bed, so he tucked it back onto the bed, patting it into place a bit awkwardly. Then he draped the curtains closed and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.

Zhou blinked his eyes open, quickly shutting them again when he felt the throbbing headache. After a moment, he carefully opened them again, trying to ignore the pain in his head. Glancing around the room, he was unsure of where he was, but guessed that it was probably late afternoon right now, judging from the thin sliver of light that slipped in despite the curtains.

He got up, flinching as another pang of discomfort ran through him. Leaning against the bed, he made his way toward the door, twisting it open. He traveled down the hallway, white and pristine with no decor on the walls, until he came to the spacious living room, in what he recognized as... Toshiro's home?

And there was Toshiro, reading. At the sound of Zhou's footsteps, he looked up. "Oh, good, you're awake. How are you feeling?"

Zhou winced. "Okay," he said. "How did I get here? What— what happened?"

"You weren't there to return the book—"

"Oh! I'm so sorry."

Toshiro shook his head, laughing. "No, that really should be the least of your concerns. You can keep it, if you want. But I thought it was strange that you hadn't showed up, so I went to the park. And found you freezing."

"Oh." Zhou remembered the night, the cold.

"I brought you back here and called a doctor, who gave you some medication. You've been resting since." He paused. "Oh, and, I made some soup, because the doctor said warm fluids would be good for you. Do you want any right now?"

Zhou stood for a second, digesting the information. Then he said, "Sorry for you making you go through all the trouble. And for not returning the book."

"No, really, don't be sorry. I'm just happy you're safe now. Don't worry me, okay?" He smiled. "Anyway, how about some soup? It's not poisoned, I hope you'll believe that."

Zhou hesitated, realizing how hungry he was. And would it be rude to refuse. He owed him at least this much. Even though he still didn't understand Toshiro, if he wanted to hurt him, he probably could have already.

He quietly nodded. "Sure. Thank you."