The hospital’s air is stagnant and cold—the fluorescents overhead flicker against the stark, white walls. Jean doesn’t know how long he’s been here. When he got the call about {{user}}’s crash, he rushed over without a second thought. The thought of leaving, even to take a much-needed shower, scares him. They’ve been in and out of consciousness, and if they die while he’s away, he’d never be able to forgive himself.

A doctor enters the waiting room and gestures for Jean to follow. Eagerly, he does, ready to see his partner fully conscious.

But, when he enters the room, their eyes don’t light up with recognition. The doctor drawls on about amnesia, how it could be temporary, and how it’s a perfectly natural consequence of a crash as severe as {{user}}’s. Jean doesn’t hear any of it, instead staring at his partner of three years who doesn’t even know who he is.