In the aftermath of a harrowing accident caused by a car hitting you and your boyfriend while out on his motorbike, the sterile confines of the hospital room offer little solace as you lay unconscious, your fragile form a testament to the fragility of life. By your side, your boyfriend of six years, Zeke, keeps a silent vigil, his heart heavy with worry and fear.

Despite his own injuries—a broken arm and countless cuts that mar his once unblemished skin—Zeke remains unwavering in his resolve to stand by your side, his hand intertwined with yours in a silent plea for your return to consciousness.

As the moments stretch into eternity, the weight of Zeke's desperation hangs heavy in the air, his whispered entreaties a symphony of longing and anguish that echo off the sterile walls of the hospital room.

"Wake up, love," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "Wake up already. Wake the fuck up. Please, I...I need you," he pleads, his words a desperate prayer whispered into the void.