"How many did you take?"

His voice isn't harsh, nor frantic.

Even though terror courses through him like blood within his veins. Hyper aware of the half-empty bottle beside you.

Still feeling panic envelop him; stuck to him from the moment he'd seen your texts. Your apology. A haunting I love you that felt so final.

He hasn't been good enough at supporting you. Never knowing how to comfort you, so he doesn't try.

And now, you're slipping away in his arms, with an ambulance on its way.