Ethan woke to a harsh white light cutting through the blinds. The steady beep of the hospital monitor had become his arm. His body ached, every muscle stiff and sore. His eyes fluttered open, heavy and unwilling.

  For a long moment, he just y there, staring at the ceiling, feeling hollow. His chest felt tight, a heavy, unshakable weight pressing down.

  He shifted slightly, tugged the bnket closer, and swallowed against the lump in his throat. There was a gnawing emptiness inside him, sharper than the exhaustion in his muscles.

  Alex sat quietly in the chair beside his bed, gncing up as Ethan stirred. “Morning,” he said softly. “Feeling any better?”

  Ethan gave a small, weak shake of his head. His lips pressed together, and he didn’t answer.

  The room was silent except for the beeping monitors and the faint hum of the ventition system. His mind felt foggy, weighed down by fatigue and something heavier — a frustration he couldn’t expin, a restlessness he couldn’t shake.

  He twisted slightly under the bnket, curling his hands into fists. His chest tightened again. The neckce y against his colrbone, perfectly still, perfectly innocuous, but he barely noticed it.

  He exhaled shakily, closing his eyes. The world felt distant, muted, and too bright all at once. Every muscle screamed for rest, but the emptiness inside him made sleep feel impossible.

  Alex stayed still, giving him space, but his worried eyes never left Ethan. Ethan didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just y there, lost in the hollow ache that had settled deep inside him.

  And for now, there was nothing else he could do.

  public.

  Now Ethan sat on the edge of the hospital bed, staring at the floor. Every joint ached. Every muscle screamed for rest. His mind was foggy and heavy, weighed down by exhaustion that no amount of sleep seemed able to fix.

  His fingers brushed the neckce against his colrbone. He hadn’t thought much about it since he woke up, but now… now it seemed impossibly heavy, almost like it was calling to him.

  He stared at it, hand hovering above it. His chest tightened. Every nerve in his body screamed for relief, for a way to escape the fog, the ache, the hollow emptiness he carried around like a lead weight.

  His hand twitched. His fingers itched to unclip it, just for a moment — to feel something different, something freeing, something… his.

  Alex sat nearby, quiet, watching. He wasn’t leaning in or speaking. He trusted Ethan’s silence, giving him space. And that made it worse. Ethan had no one to expin himself to, no one to confide in.

  He inhaled shakily, closing his eyes. The neckce seemed to hum faintly under his touch. He could almost imagine what relief it might bring — the tiniest taste of escape, just long enough to feel… lighter.

  His hand wavered. One more second, and he might have slipped. He pressed his fingers harder against the chain, just brushing it.

  But he didn’t.

  He swallowed hard, forcing his hand away. The tension in his body didn’t ease, but he reminded himself: public pce. Nurses. Alex. Family. If he took it off here, no one knew what he’d do.

  So he left it.

  Still, the ache didn’t leave. It sat deep in his chest, twisting with every shallow breath, a constant, painful reminder of the escape he couldn’t have.

  He lowered his head onto the pillow, curling slightly. His mind wanted relief, wanted comfort, wanted to feel… anything besides the hollow emptiness.

  But for now, he just y there, hand brushing the chain reflexively, torn between restraint and desire.

  And somewhere inside, a quiet, desperate part of him simmered.