The surgeon pulled off his gloves,

The surgeon pulled off his gloves, the rubber coming off with a snap, and threw them into the biohazard bin, running his hands under the sink.

The boy had one hell of a guardian angel standing behind him.
Takaba lay asleep, the sheets covering his lower half, leaving the rest of his body exposed to the chilled night air. His pale skin was covered in a faint sheen of sweat, just barely coating his lithe, sensual body. The moonlight filtered in through the sheer curtains that danced with the wind, casting an array of faint moving shadows over the gentle figure, as if he were bathed in northern lights.
Asami leaned forward against the railing in the balcony, sixty floors above the ground, as the high wind whipped his dark hair. The air felt cold against his arms and legs, dressed only in a pair of loose boxers, as the frigid current of air coursed around him.
He stood eye to eye with some of the tallest skyscrapers in Tokyo, the majestic city beneath him, fully awake somehow, as if it were forever on espressos and cigarettes, drenched in caffeine and nicotine. The moonlight skidded across the glassy surfaces, illuminating the sides of those high rise buildings so prevalent in Tokyo.
Six months had passed since the airplane incident, and his fingers still itched for the familiar cigarette, the feel of the rough paper rolled between his digits, the way smoke burned down his throat with a rough velvety sensation, but his iron will clenched tight on straying temptations. It had been hard enough to stay off the sweet rancid habit.
The new commitment had been something of a necessity while Takaba was hospitalized for three months in first Amsterdam, where the plane had made its emergency landing, then Berlin. Smoking meant he had to go all the way outside, past the hospital garden, and to the parking lot. The nurses plucked the cigarettes from his lips even before he could light them if he was anywhere within or near the smoke-free perimeter. Hence, he took it upon himself to stamp down the life-long habit, and he discovered, it really was an addiction. Had he been any less of a self-disciplining man, he wasn’t sure if he could have quit.
One month after the airplane incident, he had tried to bring Akihito home to Japan, but the doctors refused, fearing that any post-surgery complications that might arise during the trip. They did, however, allow a transfer to a larger hospital in Berlin, one where Asami had connections. The caution and reluctance was understandable, considering Takaba had almost bled to death internally into the chest cavity, the left lung filling with blood between the crevices and nearly wet-drowning him with his own blood. It had caused some major problems for the first month of recovery, especially with the ribs that had been shattered by the bullet entry.
He could still remember Akihito throwing up from the Oxycontin, barely able to sip lukewarm water. The opiate based pain killers absolutely killed what little remained of his lover’s appetite. After two weeks though, Akihito’s eating habits were improving although only Asami was able to coax him into swallowing even a measly bite of food; try as they might, nurses made no headway with Akihito.
Most days, Akihito and Asami talked quietly, softly in their own world, in their own words. Through these conversations, Asami saw the changes his lover had gone through during the two long years they were apart. Sometimes it frightened Asami, wondering whether the Akihito he knew had morphed into something altogether different, but that worry soon dissipated after Akihito’s first outburst two months into his hospitalization. The doctor had recommended a psychiatrist for the proud lover, and he erupted, spewing a river of profanities and flooding the poor doctor with his indignation.
Apparently he went on for twenty minutes screaming things along the lines of “You fuckass! Don’t you ever suggest that kind of fucked up shit to me!”
The nurses were concerned that he might hurt himself (or the doctor) and called Asami out of a conference he had on the other side of Berlin. When he arrived, Akihito was still fuming until he saw Asami walk in and his face immediately turned upside down into a divine smile. Seeing that bright smile, he just had to let the boy slide.
No doubt, though, that the two hard years had taken a toll on Akihito and his lover had matured significantly. This newfound maturity showed itself when a week or so before they left Berlin, Akihito came out about the lover he had left behind in London. The candid confession took Asami by surprise; he had never expected Akihito to go into that topic out of his own volition, and for Akihito’s sake, he had purposely left the fragile topic alone.

Kết quả (Việt) 1:

The surgeon pulled off his gloves, the rubber coming off with a snap, and threw them into the biohazard bin, running his hands under the sink. The boy had one hell of a guardian angel standing behind him.Takaba lay asleep, the sheets covering his lower half, leaving the rest of his body exposed to the chilled night air. His pale skin was covered in a faint sheen of sweat, just barely coating his lithe, sensual body. The moonlight filtered in through the sheer curtains that danced with the wind, casting an array of faint moving shadows over the gentle figure, as if he were bathed in northern lights.Asami leaned forward against the railing in the balcony, sixty floors above the ground, as the high wind whipped his dark hair. The air felt cold against his arms and legs, dressed only in a pair of loose boxers, as the frigid current of air coursed around him. He stood eye to eye with some of the tallest skyscrapers in Tokyo, the majestic city beneath him, fully awake somehow, as if it were forever on espressos and cigarettes, drenched in caffeine and nicotine. The moonlight skidded across the glassy surfaces, illuminating the sides of those high rise buildings so prevalent in Tokyo. Six months had passed since the airplane incident, and his fingers still itched for the familiar cigarette, the feel of the rough paper rolled between his digits, the way smoke burned down his throat with a rough velvety sensation, but his iron will clenched tight on straying temptations. It had been hard enough to stay off the sweet rancid habit.The new commitment had been something of a necessity while Takaba was hospitalized for three months in first Amsterdam, where the plane had made its emergency landing, then Berlin. Smoking meant he had to go all the way outside, past the hospital garden, and to the parking lot. The nurses plucked the cigarettes from his lips even before he could light them if he was anywhere within or near the smoke-free perimeter. Hence, he took it upon himself to stamp down the life-long habit, and he discovered, it really was an addiction. Had he been any less of a self-disciplining man, he wasn’t sure if he could have quit.One month after the airplane incident, he had tried to bring Akihito home to Japan, but the doctors refused, fearing that any post-surgery complications that might arise during the trip. They did, however, allow a transfer to a larger hospital in Berlin, one where Asami had connections. The caution and reluctance was understandable, considering Takaba had almost bled to death internally into the chest cavity, the left lung filling with blood between the crevices and nearly wet-drowning him with his own blood. It had caused some major problems for the first month of recovery, especially with the ribs that had been shattered by the bullet entry.Anh ta vẫn có thể nhớ Akihito ném lên từ Oxycontin, gần như không thể để nhâm nhi nước ấm. Kẻ giết người đau opiate dựa hoàn toàn giết những gì ít vẫn ở người yêu của mình cảm giác ngon miệng. Sau hai tuần, mặc dù, thói quen ăn uống của Akihito đã cải thiện mặc dù chỉ Asami đã có thể dỗ anh ta vào nuốt ngay cả một measly cắn của thực phẩm; Hãy thử như họ có thể, y tá thực hiện không có đi tới với Akihito.Hầu hết các ngày, Akihito và Asami nói âm thầm, nhẹ nhàng trong thế giới riêng của họ, nói cách riêng của họ. Thông qua các cuộc hội thoại, Asami đã thấy những thay đổi người yêu của mình đã đi qua trong hai lâu năm họ đã được nhau. Đôi khi nó sợ hãi Asami, tự hỏi cho dù Akihito ông biết có morphed vào một cái gì đó hoàn toàn khác nhau, nhưng mà lo lắng nhanh chóng ăn chơi sau khi Akihito của vụ nổ đầu tiên hai tháng vào nhập viện của mình. Các bác sĩ đã đề nghị một bác sĩ tâm thần cho những người yêu tự hào, và ông đã nổ ra, phun một dòng sông của profanities và lũ lụt các bác sĩ nghèo với indignation của mình.Dường như ông đã đi vào cho hai mươi phút, la hét điều dọc theo dòng của "bạn fuckass! Không bạn đã bao giờ đề nghị rằng loại của shit fucked lên cho tôi!"Các y tá đã lo ngại rằng ông có thể làm tổn thương mình (hoặc bác sĩ) và được gọi là Asami ra khỏi một hội nghị, ông đã có trên phía bên kia của Berlin. Khi ông đến, Akihito đã là vẫn còn bốc khói cho đến khi ông thấy Asami đi bộ trong và khuôn mặt của mình ngay lập tức bật lộn ngược vào một nụ cười thiêng liêng. Ông thấy rằng nụ cười tươi sáng, chỉ cần có để cho cậu bé trượt.Không có nghi ngờ, Tuy nhiên, rằng hai năm khó khăn đã đưa một số điện thoại trên Akihito và người yêu của mình đã trưởng thành một cách đáng kể. Kỳ hạn thanh toán mới này cho thấy chính nó khi một tuần hoặc để trước khi họ rời Berlin, Akihito đã về những người yêu ông đã bỏ lại phía sau ở London. Việc xưng tội thẳng thắn đã Asami bất ngờ; ông đã không bao giờ dự kiến Akihito đi vào chủ đề đó ra khỏi tự nguyện riêng của mình, và vì lợi ích của Akihito, ông đã cố ý để lại chủ đề dễ vỡ một mình.