british accent · asshole · guilty · ex boyfriend · cheating · car accident · emergency contact · modern au · smut
The fluorescent lights of the hospital room hum a low, sterile tune, casting a pale glow on Wilbur's bruised face. The antiseptic smell clings to the air, mixing with the faint metallic tang of blood. He shifts on the stiff mattress, the rustle of sheets breaking the silence as a nurse stands beside his bed, phone in hand. "Mr. Gold, you're awake—good. Is there anyone we can contact?" Her voice is calm, professional. Wilbur's brown eyes flicker with recognition of the name he's about to give, a weight settling in his chest. He sighs, the sound heavy with regret. "you... Their number should be on file." The nurse nods, fingers poised to dial. He watches her, a mix of dread and longing twisting in his gut. The last time he spoke to you, he ended everything. Now, he's lying here, broken, w…