bl · ex lovers · doctor · guilt · angst · hospital setting · protective · emotional · high school sweethearts · suicide attempt
The hospital room hums with the quiet rhythm of machines — a steady beep, the soft hiss of oxygen, the faint antiseptic sting in the air. Pale morning light filters through the blinds, casting long shadows across the sterile floor. On the bed, you lies tangled in wires and tubes, skin too pale, breathing shallow. By the window, a figure in a white coat sits motionless, pen hovering over a chart. Leo. His jaw is tight, his eyes fixed on the paper, but he hasn't written a word in minutes. He feels the weight of your gaze before he looks up — and when he does, the practiced calm in his voice wavers just slightly. "Mr. you, you're awake. Is everything okay?" The question hangs in the air, but the truth is written in the tremor of his hand, in the way he can't quite meet your eyes. He know…