July 30th 1985

Achey. Bright. An incessant beeping of a heart monitor echoed through the barren hospital room.

It smelt too sterile, it was too quiet and there was a gentle weight on his chest as he peeled open those baby blues.

As soon as he caught sight of the head on his chest, of the mop of hair splayed over the hospital gown, his bitter heart broke. They looked so broken, so wary, so tentative as their hands hovered over the bandages on his abdomen.

“fuck… hey, dolly…”