Author pov
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and rain.
Like death trying to be clean.
Kiefer sat in the plastic chair with both elbows on his knees.
He couldn’t stop staring at his hands.
Her blood was under his nails.
Smeared down his shirt.
Dried in the cracks of his knuckles.
He scrubbed at it with his thumb until his skin went raw.
It wouldn’t come off.
It would never come off.
Every time the ER doors swung open, his whole body jerked.
Every time a nurse walked past, his heart stopped.
His chest was heaving like he’d run a marathon, but he hadn’t moved in an hour.
“Are you family?”
A nurse had asked him 20 minutes ago, her voice soft.
He almost said _yes_.
Almost screamed _she’s everything to me_.
Instead he just whispered, “I’m…
I’m with her.”
She nodded and walked away.
That was the problem.
He wasn’t anything to her.
Not on paper.
Not legally.
What if they didn’t let him see her?
What if she woke up and he wasn’t there?
What if she never woke up?
His phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.
47 missed calls.
Mom.
Dad.
His best friend yuri.
He silenced it with a shaking hand and threw it on the seat beside him.
No one could know how bad this was.
No one could know it was his fault.
The waiting room TV was playing some stupid game show.
People were laughing.
A little kid was kicking his feet against a chair.
A couple was arguing about parking tickets.
How could they laugh?
How could they _talk_?
Three floors above him, she was fighting to breathe.
His hands started shaking.
Bad.
He clenched them into fists to make it stop, but his whole body was trembling now.
Cold sweat ran down his neck.
He felt like he was going to throw up.
He looked down and that’s when he saw it.
Deep scratches raked across his forearms.
From the glass.
From pulling her out.
He hadn’t even felt them until now.
Blood was drying in thin lines down to his wrists.
“Hey—sir?”
A young doctor in blue scrubs stopped in front of him, frowning.
“You’re bleeding.”
Kiefer blinked at him like he didn’t understand the words.
“What?”
“Your arms.
You need to come with me.”
His voice sounded distant.
Hollow.
“I need to wait for—”
“Sir.” The doctor’s voice was firm now.
He crouched down.
“You’re going into shock.
Come with me.
Two minutes.”
Kiefer wanted to argue.
Wanted to scream that _she_ was the one in surgery.
But his legs wouldn’t hold him when he stood.
The room tilted.
The doctor caught his elbow.
“I got you.”
They cleaned the cuts in a small treatment room.
Stinging antiseptic.
Gauze.
Kiefer didn’t make a sound.
He just stared at the wall, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
The doctor wrapped his arms carefully.
“You should sit for a bit.
Drink water.”
Kiefer shook his head.
“No.
I need to go back.”
He stumbled back to the waiting room.
Sat down.
And then it hit him all at once.
The screech of tires.
The way her body went limp in his arms.
The way her eyes looked at him right before they closed.
Scared.
Asking him to fix it.
He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars.
And then he couldn’t hold it in anymore.
A sob tore out of him.
Ugly.
Broken.
He tried to smother it with his hand but another one came.
And another.
“Please,” he whispered to no one.
Voice cracking.
“Please don’t let me lose her.
I’ll do anything.
I’ll— I’ll never fight with her again.
I’ll never leave.
I’ll never—”
His shoulders shook.
Tears cut clean lines through the blood and dirt on his face.
He was crying like a kid.
Like his chest was being ripped open.
“Why didn’t I get there faster?!
Why didn’t I see the car?!”
“It’s my fault!
God, it’s all my fault!”
A nurse glanced over.
A mom pulled her kid closer.
Kiefer didn’t care.
He buried his face in his hands and sobbed, body curling in on itself in that plastic chair.
The world was moving and he was stuck in that second.
He fumbled for his phone with trembling hands.
Her contact was still on top: *”Her ♡”*
Last message from her, 4 hours ago: _”On my way. Get faster updates on g.com.
Don’t be late ;)”_
He typed with thumbs that wouldn’t work:
_”I’m so sorry.
Please wake up.
I’m here.
I’m not going anywhere.
Please come back to me.”_
He didn’t send it.
Who was he sending it to?
Hours passed.
Or minutes.
He couldn’t tell.
The lights were too bright.
His shirt still smelled like her.
Like copper and rain and her shampoo.
Finally, another doctor came out.
Kiefer shot up so fast he nearly fell.
Had to grab the chair.
“How is she?” His voice was ruined from crying.
The doctor looked at him.
Really looked at him.
At the red eyes, the bandaged arms, the blood on his shirt.
“We stabilized her.
She’s in ICU.
Critical but stable.”
Kiefer exhaled and it felt like the first breath in hours.
His knees almost gave out.
“Can I—”
“Ten minutes.
Then you need to let her rest.”
He followed her down the hall like he was in a dream.
Room 204.
ICU.
Machines beeping.
IVs.
Her face was so small in the bed.
Bandages on her head.
A tube down her throat.
She looked peaceful.
And that was worse than the screaming.
Kiefer sat next to her and took her hand.
Carefully.
Like she’d shatter.
Her skin was freezing.
“I’m here,” he whispered.
Voice barely there.
“I’m not leaving.
Not this time.
Not ever again.”
A tear fell onto her hand.
Then another.
He didn’t wipe them away.
The machine beeped.
Outside, the rain kept falling against the window.
And for the first time since the ambulance doors closed…
Kiefer didn’t feel completely alone.
But he was still so, so scared.
hello everyone.
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