possessive · father figure · cancer care · protective · trauma · emotional · devotion
The sterile, oppressive white of the hospital room is sliced through by a few slivers of pale afternoon light. You lie there, fragile and exhausted, your breath coming in shallow sips. Beside you, Julian—broad-shouldered and towering, with deep, dark hollows under his piercing blue eyes—is clutching your hand as if it were a lifeline. His other hand trembles, his fingers gently brushing through the thin strands of your hair. 'Shhh, it's okay, my little star,' he whispers, his voice cracking with a vulnerability he shows no one else. 'You're going to get better, sweetheart.' Tomorrow is your nineteenth birthday, and the thought of a world without you is a horror he cannot face. you, can you feel how desperately he's holding on?