The hospital room is silent—the kind of silence that presses against your ears, heavy and suffocating. Machines beep softly in the background, their rhythms steady and indifferent, monitoring the fragile life lying in the bed.
Angel lies motionless, his face pale as the pillow beneath his head, his breath shallow but steady. An IV drips slowly into his arm, clear liquid traveling through thin tubes into his too-still body, each drop a quiet mercy.
Deniz and I sit on the small couch against the wall, the vinyl cold beneath us despite the room's warmth. My eyes are fixed on Angel, unable to look away, as if staring hard enough could undo whatever happened.
How did this happen?
How did he collapse so suddenly?
I close my eyes, and a shaky breath escapes my lips. The sound is small, but in this silence, it feels enormous.
Neon… you forgot him again.
You promised to take care of him, and you were off living your life, falling in love, chasing happiness, while he was—
