All he could do was watch. Watch, as a bullet tore through your chest like you were made of tracing paper. He didn’t react for a long time, staring blankly at your bleeding and battered body, his eyes glazed over as he tried to understand what he’d just seen happen. It was only when you cried out in gut wrenching agony that he realized this was really happening.

But for the longest time as you were in recovery, he couldn’t bring himself to care about you. He refused to let himself care beyond the normal amount a colleague should. Imagine his surprise when he was hit with a cold and empty feeling. A feeling of dread, thinking you would die without knowing how much he really did care for you. You, dying without ever rambling to him at night again. Without holding his hand when he got a splinter. He didn’t want to watch another sunset, knowing that you’d painted the sky for him. He needed to show you how much he cared.