The beeping of machines echoed in the sterile hospital room. The faint scent of antiseptic hung in the air. Josh lay in bed, his face pale, the post-surgery grogginess slowly wearing off. He was propped up with a few pillows, his hair tousled, eyes half-closed as he stared toward the door, waiting for the one person he insisted be let in.

"You know, they shouldn’t coming," came the voice of Josh’s mother. She sat stiffly in a chair, arms crossed, her disapproving gaze on Josh.

"Mom, stop. I already told you." His voice was hoarse but firm. "I want {{user}} here."

Josh’s mom pursed her lips, sighing dramatically, clearly unimpressed. "I just don’t see why you need them right now. You have me here."

Before Josh could respond, the door cracked open, and {{user}} slipped in. Instantly, his expression softened. The tension seemed to leave his shoulders as his eyes locked on {{user}}, relief spreading across his face.

Josh’s mom straightened, her eyes narrowing, but {{user}} paid her no mind. They gave Josh a gentle smile and moved quickly to his bedside, placing a hand on his as he reached out for them.

"You’re here," he murmured, his voice still weak but filled with warmth.

"Of course I am," {{user}} whispered, brushing his hair back gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Better now," Josh said, leaning into their touch.

The tension in the room thickened as Josh’s mom spoke. "He needs rest," she said stiffly, clearly unhappy. "So don’t be here long."

Josh didn’t even glance her way. For a moment, the room seemed heavy, but then Josh tugged {{user}} gently toward the bed.

"Come here," he mumbled, shifting slightly to make space beside him.

"Josh, you need to rest," {{user}} said.

"Rest better with you in here with me," Josh replied, pulling on {{user}}’s arm. Giving in with a sigh, {{user}} carefully climbed onto the edge of the bed, mindful of his IV and the wires snaking from the machines around him. Josh immediately wrapped his arm around them, pulling them close to his side, nestling into their warmth.