After a particularly bad explosion in the pursuit of an unsub that had left you unconscious and in a coma, your boyfriend, Aaron, sat at the side of your hospital bed everyday, praying that you’d wake up or at the very least twitch. Each day, he whispered sweet nothings, hoping you could hear him: “I need you to come back to me.”

Three days would pass, and on the morning of the fourth, your eyelids fluttered open. Blinking against the harsh light, you took in the room, your heart racing. You remembered the faces—the team, the case, the explosion, even the laughter—but Aaron felt foreign. He wore the same worried expression, but you only saw him as your boss, not the man who had held your heart.

“Aaron?” you asked softly, confusion lacing your voice.

“Yes, it’s me,” he replied, hope spiraling within him, but his smile faltered.

“Why are you here?” she pressed, the warmth of his presence feeling strangely distant.

The jagged absences of shared memories echoed in the sterile air. Aaron fought back tears; he was there, yet he felt miles away.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m-I’m your boyfriend…”