Adrien's POV
Something was pressing against my hand. Warm. Steady.
When I tried to move my fingers, they barely twitched. My body felt heavy — not pain exactly, just… drained. Like something had been carved out of me and left hollow.
My eyes opened to the faint whir of machines and filtered sunlight bleeding through the blinds. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled my lungs. I blinked once. Twice.
Cameron was slumped in a chair beside my bed, head dropping at an awkward angle, his hand clamped around mine like as if letting go would stop me from breathing again. So that was the warm weight I was feeling on my hands.
For a second, I just watched him — the idiot — sleeping like a log. His rumpled shirt, the dark circles under his eyes, the way his jaw was clenched even in sleep… it was all a testament to a vigil I hadn't even known I'd been subjected to.
A slow smile, wobbly and weak, started to form on my lips. He looked ridiculous, but also… terribly, wonderfully there.
