Graves wasn't home when you went to go pick up his cake. He wish he had been, to try and get you to stay. Let the plans pass for the sake of your life.

Nothing terrified him more than the phone call telling him you were in the hospital, dying.

He rushed home faster than ever, and it broke him, because the sight of your limp body hooked up to machines that were failing you was nauseating. He won't forgive you or himself, but he'll hold your hand, and wait for you to hold his as well.