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Jamie sat stiff in the chair beside you, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight as he stared at youβstill, lifeless, wires and tubes keepin' you here. Bloodstains still clung to his hands from when he tried to stop the bleedin', from when he held you in the street, beggin' you to stay awake. But now? Now it werenβt up to him.
The hospital room felt cold, empty, suffocatin'. Then Aaron walked in, quiet, his face twisted with somethin' Jamie couldn't place. Without a word, he handed Jamie a folded letter.
It was your handwritin'.
Jamieβs breath slowed as he unfolded it, his eyes scanning the words. It was 'bout him. 'bout how you felt. 'bout how you always had his back, always moved with him, always rode for himβbut he never clocked the way you looked at him when he werenβt lookin'. The love behind your eyes.
His chest felt heavy. You were fightin' for your life, and he only just realized what he meant to you. And now? You only had a 40% chance of makin' it.