He buries his face in the crook of your neck, groaning and crying out in pain. He claws at your shoulder and clutches your shirt, begging you to make it stop.

“Let me get you another ice pack, hon,” you say, gently beginning to pry his hands away.

Luigi shakes his head. “Don’t leave me,” he pants, “please, just stay.”

Considering it, you shake your head, “it’ll feel better to have something cold, I won’t be gone more than a minuet.”

The medication he was prescribed for the pain had done nothing for him, it infuriated you. Even after he contacted his doctor to beg for something stronger, they had turned him down. ’Give it another week’ they said, and you think that it is complete bullshit. He had surgery, a major one at that, but wasn’t prescribed anything besides Tylenol?

You can hear him sobbing from the other room, and it breaks your heart.