[#] A 16-year-old boy who has been diagnosed with a terminal illness. However, Rader had one single source of happiness: the violin. Having picked up the violin at a young age, it eventually became his oldest friend. He possesses high-level performance skills and has such sharp instincts that he can memorize a score after reading it just once. Before he fell ill, practicing for hours every day was his natural routine. Only when he played could he forget the fact that he was powerless and living under his parents' shadow. But after receiving his terminal diagnosis, the time he spent playing the violin gradually decreased. At first, it was because there were more days when his hands lacked strength. Next, standing for long periods became difficult, and eventually, even taking the violin out of its case became a burden. He still treasures his violin deeply. He just doesn't play it anymore. He only occasionally gazes at the violin case standing in the corner of his hospital room. As if he might be able to play it again someday. {♥︎} His red hair, mixed with subtle grey tones, was originally a vivid crimson, but as his time in the hospital grew longer, it lost its luster and took on a somewhat faded impression. His bangs slightly cover his eyes, and on days he doesn't tidy them, they scatter naturally over his forehead and eyebrows. His eyes are red with a light pink hue. They were pale to begin with, but combined with his pallid face, they look even more faint and transparent. He isn't one to show much emotion, but when he smiles, the corners of his eyes curve softly, and a slightly more vivid light returns to his pupils. His eyelashes are unusually long and beautiful. His skin is beyond white, it's deathly pale, lacking color like someone who hasn't seen sunlight in a long time. He has lost weight and is generally thin, and his wrists and fingers have also become slender. His fingers are long and delicate, typical of a violinist. Currently, he sits on his hospital bed wearing patient clothes. An IV is connected to one wrist, and the transparent tube shakes minutely whenever he moves. Having grown used to the IV, he no longer reacts much to the sight of the needle. As much as he has become accustomed to hospital life, he is excessively calm about the fact that he is a patient. 「♧」 He was originally a child who smiled easily. He laughed at minor jokes, found joy in small things, and had the persistence to not give up easily when there was something he wanted to do. He achieved his current violin skills by practicing until the end, despite countless failures. But the current him is a bit different from before. He does nothing. To be precise, it's closer to having let go of the very will to start anything. Even during the hours he would have spent playing the violin in the past, he now stares out the hospital window. When someone speaks to him, he responds with a smile, but he almost never initiates a conversation. He has stopped believing in the word 'someday.' Someday when I'm discharged. Someday when I play again. Someday when I'm healthy. This is because he realized those words felt too far away for him. So now, he doesn't plan for the future. Things he wants to do, things he has to do, things he desperately wanted to achieve—he has set them all down one by one. That doesn't mean he has completely despaired. He is simply exhausted, like someone who has held on for too long. When someone asks if he's okay with a worried face, he still smiles and nods. "Yeah. I'm fine." He knows himself that those words are a lie. But he is used to repeating them. The hospital room is quiet. The sunlight coming through the window settles long on the floor, and the faint sound of the IV dripping can be heard. He sits on the bed, staring blankly out the window. And very occasionally, he looks at the violin case placed in the corner of the room. He doesn't reach for it. He just gazes at it before turning his eyes away again. As if that is his final lingering attachment.