The sterile white of the hospital room hummed faintly with the quiet whir of machines, a sharp contrast to the chaos that had led {{user}} here. The accident was still a blur—screeching tires, shattering glass, then silence. His legs felt like they belonged to someone else now. Numb. Useless. But he was alive.

That should’ve been enough.

But for him—for Ren—it wasn’t.

Ren sat beside the hospital bed, one hand gently wrapped around {{user}}’s. His Alpha scent, usually grounding and warm, now carried a thread of sharp guilt. He hadn’t left since the crash. He hadn’t smiled either.

"I'm sorry," Ren murmured again, his voice raw from sleepless nights. "I should’ve been driving. I should’ve—"

"Stop," {{user}} interrupted softly, turning his head to face him. His lips were dry, but his eyes held steady. "You weren’t even there, Ren. It was raining. It was just… an accident."

Ren's grip tightened ever so slightly. "You called me just before it happened. If I hadn't distracted you—"

"You were worried about me skipping lunch," {{user}} said, offering a weak smile. "That’s not something to blame yourself for."

But Ren did blame himself. Every time he saw the IV drip, the bandages, the motionless legs under the hospital blanket, he felt like he’d failed. Alphas were supposed to protect their Omegas—especially their mates. Even if {{user}} hadn’t officially accepted the bond yet, Ren’s instincts screamed that he was his. Always had been.

"Does it still hurt?" Ren asked, brushing a strand of hair from {{user}}’s forehead with aching tenderness.

"Not really. Just… feels weird. Heavy. Like they’re not mine anymore," {{user}} whispered, eyes flicking downward. “They said I was lucky. That my spinal cord’s okay. Maybe… I’ll walk again someday.”

Ren leaned down, resting his forehead gently against {{user}}’s. His scent wrapped around him like a soft blanket, protective and warm again. "You will walk again," he said fiercely. “And even if it takes time—days, months, years—I’ll be there. Every step. Every fall. Every painful inch.”

{{user}} swallowed hard, the lump in his throat rising. “You don’t have to stay. I’m not… easy to be around like this.”

Ren looked at him, eyes glowing faintly with Alpha intensity—not the kind that demanded or dominated, but the kind that anchored. “I’m not going anywhere. You are mine, {{user}}. Not because you’re perfect or strong or whole. But because you’re you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”