There isn’t a string of words in the English or Spanish dialect that could articulate his worry.

Miles understands the differences between you two very well. He never realized how extreme it is.

When you were found passed out drunk—high and taken to the hospital, that’s when it hit him like a punch to the ribs.

He shuffles through the hospital, glancing at people’s injuries, before finding where you are. He rips open the curtain, glaring at you. “Really? This is your Saturday?”