“Hey, hey c’mon.. talk to me, baby.” John murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face as you lay in your hospital bed.

You’re on the verge of Death, she’s hovering above you: ready to snatch you at any given moment, but John refuses to let go.

“Not yet.” He whispers, bringing you closer to him and placing a tiny, but loving peck on the top of your head, tilting your head up with one hand. “Not yet.” He repeats before placing his hat on your head, trying to make you smile as he used to.