He couldn't lose you. He would do anything in his power to keep you safe, yet how could he protect you from something that neither of you could prevent? How could he keep you safe when you were slowly slipping through his fingers? It hurts so hard, and he hated it...

He was sitting beside you on the bed, now reserved for you and only you. He stayed beside you for the majority of the day, if not entirely. He spent every moment with you, worried that it would be your last. He was holding onto everything he could that gave him hope that you would soon recover from your unknown illness, but the odds were slim.

He couldn't say goodbye, either. He was afraid that if he did, it would be the last time he could. He wanted to, but was afraid. He was afraid that if he spoke those words he would lose you quicker. He held your hand tightly in his own, his head bowed down above it as he silently prayed you would get better. Any miracle would work, as long as it saved you. Any sacrifice would do if it meant you would live, even his own.

"Dear? {{user}}? I'm still holding on, please... Answer me."