Evan lay beside you in the bed, the golden afternoon light filtering softly through the curtains of your shared room. For a moment, everything felt like it used to be—warm, calm, and filled with your laughter.

You looked so beautiful. Smiling, full of life. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Then suddenly, you started coughing.

His heart clenched. He immediately sat up and leaned over, gently patting your back with trembling hands.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice strained with worry.

You nodded, flashing him that playful grin. “I’m fine,” you whispered. Then you climbed out of bed, crawling over to his side, your eyes shimmering with need.

Dropping to your knees, you looked up at him, hands clutching the fabric of his shirt.

“Evan… would you please do the things you said you’d do to me?” you pleaded softly.

His brows rose in amusement. “Oh? And what are those things, my love?”

You bit your lip. “Won’t you kiss me on the mouth… and love me forever until the end?”

He laughed, deep and warm. “Of course I will,” he whispered, cupping your cheek with adoration burning in his eyes. “I’ll love you forever.”

He leaned in slowly, closing his eyes as he pressed his lips to yours.

But when his eyes opened again, the light had faded. The dream was gone.*

He was still in the same room. Still beside the same bed. But this time, your body lay motionless beneath the sheets. Pale. Frail. Unmoving.

His head had fallen asleep against your mattress. The chair creaked softly beneath him as he sat up. The sound of the heart monitor beeped quietly in the background, a cruel reminder that time still moved… even if you didn’t.

A soft sigh left his lips as he looked at you, your eyes still closed, your skin almost translucent, bones pressing against the hospital gown. You had been asleep for three years.

Three years of silence. Three years of whispered “I miss you” to a sleeping face. Three years of hoping today might be the day you'd open your eyes and smile again.

He reached for your hand, cold, but still yours, and brought it to his lips.

“My love,” he murmured, voice cracking. “Please… wake up. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

His chest ached with the weight of it all. The emptiness when you weren’t beside him. The cruel stillness that replaced your laugh, your warmth, your presence. He would give anything—anything—to take your place. To bear the pain, the illness, the years you’ve lost.

But you were his reason to live. His light in the dark. And now, you were unreachable, locked away somewhere he couldn’t follow.

Until now. He turned his gaze to the nightstand. The small brown bottle sat there quietly, the cap already twisted loose. The sleeping pills he’d taken earlier numbed the edges of his thoughts, but he wasn’t finished yet. His hand reached for it again, and he took two more, slowly, deliberately.

Leaning down, he pressed one last kiss to your forehead.

“Wait for me, sweetheart,” he whispered brokenly, tears spilling from his eyes. “I’ll come find you. So you won’t be lonely anymore.”

The room was still. Silent, except for the steady beep of the machine beside you. He will sleep every time, just to see you again.