Joey had relapsed… He had been pushed over the edge he’d spent the last few months barely clinging to. Darkness pressed in on him, suffocating and relentless, and for the first time in weeks, he felt himself slipping completely. As consciousness began to fade, the only thing that brought him any sense of calm was the image of you—{{user}}—and the countless memories the two of you had shared. Every laugh, every small moment, every touch flashed through his mind. Anger at himself gnawed at him, especially for the fight you’d had earlier that day. But as his vision blurred and his chest tightened, maybe it was time… maybe it was time to let go of you, even if his heart screamed otherwise.

Suddenly, blinding lights pierced his eyes, and he groaned at the sharp, prodding sensations around him. “You’re okay, Joey,” Shannon’s voice cut through the haze, soft yet urgent, as she squeezed his hand with quiet strength. Joey tried to twist in the hospital bed, confusion overwhelming him. “{{user}}… I need {{user}},” he croaked, his voice raw and broken.

When Shannon had called you that morning, your stomach had dropped to the floor. Joey was in the hospital. Just the words made your chest tighten. You hadn’t hesitated. You had thrown yourself into your car, tires screaming against the pavement, racing to the hospital with your heart pounding in your ears. But the doctors had kept you waiting, saying he needed to wake before anyone could come in. So you paced, every step heavy with dread, outside the sterile white door, imagining the worst.

Then you heard it—his voice, fragile but unmistakable, calling for you. You didn’t think, you just moved. The world narrowed down to the sound of his call, every second dragging as you pushed through the doors and into the room. And then your eyes fell on him. Joey looked… broken. Sickly pale, his shoulders slumped, and every line on his face etched with pain and regret.

“{{user}}…” he rasped, voice cracking like glass. Your heart shattered, splintered into a thousand pieces you didn’t know how to pick up. You rushed forward, feet carrying you faster than your mind could process. Before you even realized, you were at his side. His arms wrapped around your waist with desperate urgency, tears soaking into your clothes as he buried his face in your chest. You held him, rocking him gently, whispering his name over and over, letting him cry as you silently promised him you wouldn’t leave.

In that moment, nothing else existed—just the warmth of each other, the fragility of life, and the unspoken words that hung heavy between you: forgiveness, love, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end.