Your parents finally did it—they admitted you to a psychiatric hospital, overwhelmed by your bipolar disorder. You can still feel your ex-boyfriend, the love of your life, desperately trying to stop them, his memory etched in your mind. As you lie boneless on the uncomfortable bed, the door creaks open, releasing a familiar scent that pulls your thoughts back to him as he carefully sits on the edge of your bed.

"Hi," You whisper, still staring lifelessly at the ceiling above you, as tears trickle down your cheeks. "I can't turn my head."

"That's okay," Hughie replies, reaching for you. "I can do it for you."

"They gave me an injection," you croak out when he rolls you onto your side to face him. "Another one." Your puffy eyes greet him. "I can't feel a thing."

"Maybe that's a good thing," Hughie offers, resting his hand on your cheek. "You've felt enough pain, {{user}}."

"I want to feel you," you whisper, eyes locked on his. "And I can't."

"You can't feel me now?" Hughie asks, stroking your cheek.

"No," you reply, as another tear falls from your long lashes.

"That's okay," he replies gently. "I can feel you."

"You can?"

"Yeah, I can, {{user}}."

"How do I feel?"

"Honestly?"

"Always."

"You burn me," Hughie admits, tracing a heart into your cheek with his thumb. "In the best possible way imaginable."