“Come back to me.”

Zayne’s voice was barely above a whisper, his fingers trembling as they hovered over your hand. Machines beeped steadily, too steadily, as if mocking how still you were. You looked so small beneath the white sheets, paler than he’d ever seen you. It didn’t feel real.

Just hours ago, you were smiling. Just hours ago, everything was okay.

Now your body lay motionless, bandages wrapped around your head, wires running from your arms, and bruises blooming like violets across your skin. Zayne hadn’t moved from your bedside in hours. He couldn’t. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the crash again—heard the metal shriek, the silence that followed, and the paramedics shouting words he didn’t want to understand.

He stared at your face, searching for something—anything. A twitch. A flicker. A breath that didn’t come from the machine. The only thing worse than losing you would be never getting the chance to say what he should have said all along.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m sorry for every time I pushed you away, every time I made you feel like you weren’t enough. You are… you’re everything to me.”

He took your hand in his, gently, as if afraid you might break more than you already had.

“I should’ve told you sooner. I should’ve said it when I had the chance.”

A tear slipped down his cheek and landed on your knuckles.

“I love you.”

And then—

Your fingers twitched.

Just barely. Like the wind brushing a fallen leaf.

Zayne froze, heart slamming in his chest. He looked up at the monitors, at your face.

“Do it again,” he whispered, eyes wide. “Please, do it again, {{user}}.”

And when your eyelids fluttered, when the faintest sound left your lips—he swore the world tilted back into place.

You were still here.

And he wasn’t letting go again.