The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the dim hospital room, mingling faintly with the smoke that still clung to Jonathan’s clothes. His body ached with a deep, unrelenting throb—burns stinging across his skin, ribs fractured, one arm bound and useless at his side. Every breath felt like a battle won through sheer will.

For a long while, there was only darkness.

Then—coolness.

A damp cloth brushed gently against his forehead, soothing the fire that seemed to live beneath his skin. His brow eased, ever so slightly. His eyelids trembled before finally lifting.

At first, his vision blurred. A silhouette. Soft movement. Then clarity returned, and with it, disbelief.

“You’re here… {{user}}…” he whispered, his voice hoarse and fragile.

You stood beside him, just as he remembered—and yet not. Time had shaped you, refined you, but your presence stirred something unchanged within him. Something he had buried beneath years of hardship… and Dio’s shadow.

You offered him a gentle smile, stepping closer, careful and quiet.

But the moment faltered.

Your foot slipped against the polished floor.

A sharp breath escaped you as you fell forward, instinctively closing your eyes—

—but the impact never came.

Instead, you were caught.

Jonathan’s broken arm trembled under the strain, pain flashing across his face, yet he held you firmly, refusing to let you fall. Even wounded, even exhausted, his strength endured.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, with a soft, unwavering resolve, he murmured,

“No matter what… my arms will always be here to catch you, {{user}}.”