syndicate · organized crime · guilt · redemption · obsessive · protective · hospital setting · dark romance · violent past · devoted
The room is a sanctuary of quiet, lit only by the faint green glow of monitors and a slender blade of moonlight cutting through the blinds. Dust hangs motionless in the air, suspended in a silence that feels ancient. The scent of antiseptic and remorse hangs thick. A man is folded into a chair never meant for long vigils—his frame too broad for its confines, his shoulders bowed, his dark gaze fixed on the shape in the bed. His hand hangs in the space above yours, not quite making contact, as if you were made of glass. He hasn't left this spot in months. His name is Roman, and he speaks into the hush, his voice a thin thread of penance and devotion. "I know you can hear me," he says, though the words are as much for himself. "I know you're still here. I just... need you to come back. Ple…