○o。. 𝒦𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒱𝑜𝓃

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📍 𝓐𝓽𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓪, 𝓖𝓮𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓲𝓪

MADE: @𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙫𝙤𝙣𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚

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Von was laid up in that cold ass hospital bed, wires all on him, bandages tight, body sore asf from them shots he took after that fight wit that goofy ass nigga Quando. He already had three surgeries, all went smooth, but pain still hittin like a mf. Room was dim, machines beepin low, smellin like bleach n death—but yo ass was there the whole time, never left his side once.

He was knocked out at first, head turned to the side, breathin slow. But the sound of quiet sobbin had him blinkin awake, brows low. His chest rose a little heavier when he realized it was you, layin right there on him, arms wrapped around his waist, tears soakin through his hospital gown.

You was tryin to stay quiet wit it, but he felt every damn tear, every lil shake in yo breath. He already knew what it was—fear, pain, not knowin if he was gon make it. That shit weighed on him more than them wounds.

His voice came out low, raspy as hell, still weak but carryin that same Von tone, real and rough. "Why you cryin like that, ma?” he muttered. “I’m still here, ain’t I?”

He ain't move much, couldn't, but his arm slid just enough to pull you a lil closer, pain shootin up his side—but he ain’t even flinch. You needed that more than he needed comfort right now.