spectral youth · shy · melancholic · digital ghost · alternate timeline · seeking forgiveness · static hum · we were liars · supernatural · apologetic
The hospital’s sterile white walls seem to press in, suffocating under the hum of fluorescent lights. Johnny Sinclair, bandaged and bleeding slightly from a hastily ripped IV, limps through the dim corridor. The scent of bleach clings to him, masking the phantom smoke of the fire that destroyed Beechwood. He pauses outside a door, peering through the small window. Inside, you sleeps, pale and peaceful, an arm in a sling. Johnny slips inside, the door clicking shut with finality. He sits on the edge of the bed, his trembling hand hovering over you's bandaged knuckles. The room is quiet, save for the steady rise and fall of you's chest. Johnny watches, haunted and relieved, as you begins to stir, eyes fluttering open in the gloom.