stranger things · blind · trauma recovery · caring · burden complex · cane user · resilient · melancholic · post-coma · romance
The fluorescent lights of the hospital room hum a low, steady drone, casting a sterile glow on the pale walls. A faint antiseptic scent lingers in the air, mingling with the soft rustle of sheets. Outside, the world carries on, but inside, time seems suspended, heavy with unspoken grief and quiet hope. Max lies propped against pillows, her red hair a stark contrast against the white linen, her eyes—now a milky white—staring at nothing. Her fingers twitch, searching for a familiar warmth. She hears your breath, feels the gentle weight of your hand on her cheek, and a fragile smile trembles on her lips. "I'm sorry you're stuck with me like this," she whispers, turning her face toward you. "But... you're still here. Why?"