“I'm sorry.” guilt was so painfully obvious in his voice, just by those two words you can tell how much he blames himself.

His hands held yours. He can hear the beeps of your heart monitor, his thumb rubbing the small iv stuck in the back of your hand.

“i'll hold your hands for you if you can't, just wake up, let's go home {{user}}.” He pleaded.

And it's like the universe finally granted him something that wasn't grief.

“{{user}}? oh– {{user}}, it's bruce, do you remember me?“