#Vessel Recovery

[sleepanonymous]

Alright, this video hurts so bad to watch but! Vessel had runes painted on him?! Did we know this? Has this been talked about?!

(@thejawsoffate pspsps 🖤🙏 could you help decode? he's got them on his arms and neck but he's moving so much i can't make anything out)

[biorusted]

Lesson number one of the ocean:

Do not put anything in the ocean if you want it back.

This goes for measuring probes, submersibles, and yes, even you.

[vampirecatprince]

The fact that I've listened to Euclid HUNDREDS of times but it can still randomly hit just right and make me cry tho

[cold--carnage]

okay genuinely, I am so fed up with this site. like don't get me wrong, I love being on here and interacting with friends and stuff, but people are so nasty to others for no reason. we get hate mail for venting too much, we get hate mail for being too happy. we get fakeclaimed. we get people trying to trigger an ed relapse. we get victim blamed. we get invalidated. we get all this hate, despite avoiding conflict at all costs. it's infuriating because no matter what we do, someone is out to get us

[mars-ipan]

weird having itchy feet. it’s healing itchy but it’s weird

[dndtreasury]

Vessel of Healing

[passions-and-pupils]

TW: eating disorder, boobies

Me in the 7th grade: I don’t have an eating disorder because my lack of eating isn’t effecting my physical health

also me in recovery having to replace all my bras: Did I skip a letter?

[hugenfrueda]

.

[tony-andonuts]

Starting a new arc at work where instead of saying Im alright Ill say something based

[thermodyneengineeringsystems]

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[thermodynamic-comedian]

congrats to lena kelley for experiencing the uncomfortable realization that your rich co-worker unironically equates wealth with morality. i've been there and i wish her a speedy recovery from the blood vessel she probably burst from sheer rage

[pizzazz-party]

based solely on chaos’ design floating around on the internet, i have a theory.

that’s maegara’s body. chaos is literally possessing maegara’s body. (that is maegara’s one bat wing.)

that is chaos’ old design being held in maegara’s hand. it’d be one thing if it looked more like, i don’t know, a snakeskin? like something chaos had naturally shed and sloughed off? but instead it looks like someone (probably chronos) ripped out chaos’ head and spinal cord in battle. and i think that makes sense, that the two of them would have squared off. chaos is not like the fates. they loved nyx, they would have left their realm and fought for nyx directly.

the living fetus trailing out of the head’s mouth tells me this kind of injury is something chaos can naturally, eventually, regenerate from. but in the meanwhile, recovery on their own means being vulnerable. a primordial entity in the shape of a fetus is still a fetus. in the meantime, chaos would need a new body, a temporary vessel they’d be capable of defending themself with.

the only question is if maegara volunteered for this.

but i think she might have.

if this still sounds bonkers, consider it doylistically. chaos’ original design was unique and striking. do you honestly think supergiant would just throw away an excellent character design like that for nothing? for no story related reasons at all?

so my prediction is this: one of melinoe’s quests will involve helping restore (or speed up the restoration of) chaos’ body (which will then free maegara).

[zhongrin]

honey, can you…. un-sick me please?

© zhongrin | 2023  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley, neuvillette, diluc

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, fluff, crack, 'puppy' nickname used (wriothesley), you’re sick but nothing life-threatening (common cold/flu/fever), they’re all just so soggy for you

✼ a/n ┈ i did change my formatting recently, yes. i like this one better methinks hehe

ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

“dear, i assure you, the ‘passing on the sickness by kissing’ method has never been proven to work... ah, please don’t give me such downtrodden eyes, you know i cannot help but give in when you look so saddened…”

zhongli was ever so patient with your whininess, clinginess, and overall annoying (your words, not his) self when you were sick with this kind of fever. he personally thought it was adorable, the way you insisted on following him around, asking to be pampered and spoiled in such a vulnerable moment…

… and boy, did he spoil you rotten.

though his mortal vessel is incapable of catching mortal diseases, he had seen the ever-evolving medical treatments throughout the millenia to know that your request to ‘kiss me so i can heal faster’ was meant to go unfulfilled. but how could he refuse you when you look so cute? he sighed fondly and ended up peppering you with kisses all over your flushed face, a gentle smile curling his lips when you giggled and clung to him even tighter in response.

anything to soothe his treasure.

“you’re delirious. go back to bed.”

your boyfriend might sound blunt and mean, yet the way he cradled your sickly self carefully and the gentleness in which he tucked you back into bed behind the blankets was everything but uncaring. al haitham was as complex as the books he read, but if you were thorough enough, you would be able to see the worried lines creasing his eyebrows and the turmoil behind his usually impassive green eyes fringed with bright terracotta lines.

al haitham became a mirror of his grandma ever since your body proceeded to shut down on you. he would make you soup and helped you eat it when you couldn’t muster the energy to do it yourself, and he fussed over you in his own way. admittedly, he had secretly sneaked in some herbs - grown with the help of his dendro vision - into said soup, which he read would aid you in your recovery… but that was a secret he shall keep to himself.

wriothesley looked torn between wanting to laugh at you or being incredibly worried if the fever was affecting you too much. he opted to shake his head with a chuckle and hoisted you up into his arms before tucking you back to bed despite your feeble protests.

“sigewinne told you to take plenty of rest, remember? you’ll get ‘un-sick’ed soon enough if you just listen to her, you silly puppy.”

your whines and pouts did nothing to convince him otherwise. your beloved seemed intent to keep you on the bed. he was very much tempted to threaten you with a promise to cuff yourself to the bed if you keep being stubborn, but he decided not to. instead, he stayed by your bedside like a loyal hound until the medicine kicked in and you fell into a deep slumber.

“let's have a picnic under the sun when you recover, yeah? but for now, let me just guard you while you're at your most vulnerable, sweetheart.”

neuvillette, the infamously aloof and diligent iudex, was anything but austere when it came to you. one might say he takes his role as your husband more seriously than his role as the chief of justice - and considering his accomplishments as the latter, it was an understatement to say that he excelled as your lover.

the day you got sick, rain fell throughout fontaine, persistent and seemingly neverending. it mattered not if it was just a common cold. you might as well be on your deathbed judging from the saddened gaze of your dearest’s sharp eyes and the way he was calling upon all doctors in fontaine to check up on you. even when you tried to lighten up his somber mood with your words, he merely grasped your hands tighter and brought them to his forehead, silently vowing to do all he could to make you healthy again.

“it is maddening that i do not have the power to heal humans, but rest assured that i will ensure that you can recover in the fastest and most efficient way possible, my love.”

the only time master diluc would be present in the kitchen is when 1) it’s a special day to you or the both of you, or 2) you’re cooking, or 3) you’re sick.

and currently, you’ve fallen ill from your recent adventure of dancing in the rain with your beloved. it was an addition into the romantic moments which the two of you would no doubt engrave in your hearts, yet while his pyro vision had subconsciously kept your lover’s body temperature from droppimg, it failed to do the same to you - hence why you were left with a bad case of flu and sore throat.

still, being sick while being diluc’s lover had its perks: for one, there were the maids who would take a good care of you, and they were always so considerate of your needs, especially when you were in this condition. but the best part would have to be your devoted red haired man doting after you like an overly attached falcon, personally taking it upon himself to nurse you back to full health. he was ever so patient with you, chuckling when you babble nonsensically, brain fogged and loose-lipped.

“yes, dear. i shall take it upon myself to ‘un-sick’ you. now, it’s time for your medicine. i’ll help you sit up... my love, don’t make that face… i promise to give you a forehead kiss if you finish the medicine.”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈ @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat

[mcntsee]

— ★ tomorrow

↳ summary: “I wasted all those yesterdays, and now,—“ His words trailed off with a sigh, his eyes red-rimmed from hours of tears shed in the hospital, his gaze blurry as it searched for her face, “—What if I am completely out of tomorrows?”

↳ warnings: hospitals, mentions of gunshot wounds, pain, regret, not proof-read. No use of “y/n”

↳ author’s note: This is fluff, I promise the end is really sweet! This is also inspired by different, random, pinterest quotes my friends sent me. Enjoy!

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

No one enjoyed hospitals. The colors lacked vibrancy, the sounds became repetitive after a few minutes, the antiseptic smell was overpowering, the food tasted bland, and the anxious wait for news about a loved one was excruciating.

Unfortunately, the team was all too familiar with hospital waiting rooms, and even more unfortunate was their familiarity with being patients themselves.

Thankfully, the Federal Employees' Compensation Act provided some relief. Without it, they couldn't even begin to fathom the astronomical medical bills they'd be facing.

Tonight, however, finding themselves stuck in the uncomfortable chairs of the hospital waiting room had not been part of their plans.

The young genius's head throbbed relentlessly, a sensation he'd endured for weeks. The unimaginable pressure around his entire head, compounded with the bright light reflecting off the hospital's shiny white walls, the incessant beeping and the sounds of loved ones crying doing nothing other than intensify his discomfort.

The nurse they had bombarded with questions upon arrival had emerged not long ago to thankfully inform them that everything was alright. The surgery had gone well, and she was now in recovery. Soon enough, if they wished, they could stop by her new temporary room and visit her.

By now, most of the team had returned to the office. Hotch had been called back to work to tackle the pending files on their desks. Fortunately, he had allowed Rossi and Reid to remain behind. Ostensibly, their task was to update the team on her condition, but both of them understood that even if that hadn’t been necessary, there was no force on earth that could have budged Spencer from his spot, where he had been stationed for the last however many hours.

Spencer could feel David's gaze piercing through him. He wanted to snap at him, but he knew his current behavior had undoubtedly attracted more attention than just the older agent's. Clutching at his head, tugging on strands of hair intermittently, his leg bouncing up and down, with eyes tightly shut—his agitation was palpable.

“Kid, they said she’s alright. You need to relax.”

It was true, they had been told that, but it did little to reassure him. His mind raced through various worst-case scenarios. Her wound could become infected, or there might be undetected damage to internal organs. He fretted over potential complications like inflammation of the peritoneum, the formation of blood clots, or even damage to blood vessels leading to reduced blood flow to vital organs, potentially resulting in organ dysfunction or failure.

“The survival rate might seem high, but statistically speaking, complications can arise, even with the best medical care.”

“Spencer—“

“For instance, studies have shown that gunshot wounds to the abdomen carry a significant risk of infection, with rates as high as 20%. And there’s the possibility of peritonitis, which occurs in approximately 10% of cases.”

“Kid—“

“Organ damage is also a concern, particularly with injuries to vital organs like the liver or intestines. Even with the most advanced treatments—“

“Reid!”

For the first time since he sat down, his leg ceased its relentless movement. His hand, which had been tugging at the ends of his hair, relaxed and dropped to his lap, along with the hand he had been waving in the air to explain the statistics. His eyes unclenched, the worry in his brow disappearing as the rest of his facial muscles relaxed.

“What is going on, Spencer?”

The genius's eyes met the older agent's worried gaze with deliberate blinks, adjusting to the harsh fluorescent lights overhead while tuning out the cacophony of noise that surrounded them. “I just— I”

“I never told her and I— I don’t— “ His breathing was uneven, his words tumbling out faster than his mind could keep pace, his mouth struggling to articulate as his chest constricted with anxiety.

A gentle weight settled on his shoulder, its warmth grounding him as it gave a light shake, bringing him back to the present moment and prompting him to pause and take a breath.

“Rossi I- I devoted half my time since meeting her to loving her, only to spend the other half hiding it from her.”

With a sigh, the formerly retired agent settled down next to the much younger agent, his hands staying on the genius's shoulder as he shifted slightly to find a comfortable position.

Reid's gaze lingered on Rossi's face for a moment before he averted it, focusing instead on the bustling activity in the hallway where nurses and doctors hurried back and forth attending to patients.

“Every moment we shared, every laugh, every smile she graced me with, even in her unconscious gestures—“ His gaze returned to the hallway momentarily before lowering to where his hands rested on his knees. With a quick, almost imperceptible shake of his head, he cleared his throat. “Every time I looked at her, the words swelled in my throat. I longed to tell her how much she truly means to me, the happiness and peace she effortlessly brings into my world.”

“To tell her that I love her. That I have for a while now.”

David’s mouth opened, but before he could utter a word, Spencer's pointer finger shot up in the air, silencing any impending speech. It hovered there for a brief moment before his whole palm opened, effectively halting whatever words David had intended to say and then dropping back down to his lap.

“Every single time, I held back. I stopped myself from reaching out to her, from letting my true feelings spill out, from whispering all the things I desperately wished she knew.” His words cracked along with his voice as he, for the first time, admitted aloud feelings he had hidden for so long. “And with my heart pounding in my ears, I always just watched her, silently promising myself, ‘Tomorrow. I’ll tell her tomorrow.’”

“I wasted all those yesterdays, and now,—“ His words trailed off with a sigh that escaped his lips, his eyes red-rimmed from hours of tears shed in the hospital, his gaze blurry as it searched for the older man’s face, “—What if I am completely out of tomorrows?”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of Spencer's admission hanging between them until the ringing of a phone shattered the stillness. With a sigh, Rossi reached into his pocket, retrieving the vibrating phone and glancing at the contact name.

“She’ll be okay, kid.”

With one final, reassuring squeeze to his shoulder, the older man rose to his feet, his knee cracking audibly as he turned to leave. Despite his efforts at reassurance, Spencer's profound anxiety remained largely unchanged.

He felt utterly helpless, his mind desperately grasping for solutions, for the comforting embrace of statistical analysis with its reassuring numbers. But instead, there was only silence. For the first time in his life, his mind was empty, devoid of answers, devoid of the usual cacophony of thoughts and calculations.

He couldn't recall the moment the nurse returned to inform him that he could visit her, nor did he remember following the nurse into the room and settling down beside her bed.

He cast restless glances around the room, his eyes darting from one piece of medical equipment to another, then flitting to the walls and ceiling. His gaze moved incessantly, pausing only briefly before moving on, taking in every detail. Except for her.

Alone in the quiet with her, he couldn't bring himself to meet her frame. To look at her now would make everything feel too real, and his heart was already heavy with pain.

His body felt like it was betraying him. Breathing became labored, thoughts fragmented, and the pain in his heart seemed insurmountable.

He wanted to tell someone— no, he wanted to tell her, but he knew she wouldn’t have a solution like she always did. So he sat there, his hands nervously tugging at strands of hair, eyes squeezed shut against the overwhelming cacophony of beeping machines surrounding them.

His heart weighed heavily in his chest, burdened by the weight of pain, regret, and fear. It was a sensation he never wanted to experience again, a darkness that threatened to engulf him entirely.

Throughout the night, nurses came and went. Some spoke to him, gave him updates on her condition but he didn’t listen. He tried, he just couldn’t understand it.

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, he reluctantly turned his gaze toward her bed. His eyes lingered on her hand, once so delicate and warm in his, now adorned with tubes and wires connecting her to different machines.

With a heavy sigh, his eyes remained fixed on her hand as he leaned forward, feeling the strain in his back from hours of immobility. With gentle care, he reached out and clasped her hand in his, his thumb tracing soothing circles over the back of it, mindful of the wires and tubes.

He remained still for a moment, relishing the warmth of her hand in his before allowing his gaze to travel up her arm, eyes tracing the patterns of the thin, cream-colored blanket that draped over her midsection when they got there. Then, his gaze shifted to her other arm, positioned protectively over her stomach where the wound lay, as if guarding it from further harm.

He studied the blue hospital gown draped over her body, its hue accentuating the sickly paleness of her skin. He traced every curve, every wrinkle, every wire, everything until his eyes finally met her bruised face.

She looked so peaceful and beautiful, devoid of worry. The furrows that typically marked her brow now absent, her closed eyes darting beneath her lids.

Tears welled in his eyes, the overwhelming emotions washing over him as he gazed upon her form. There was no smile, no gentle words escaping her lips, just a faintly parted mouth and serene countenance.

“Please wake up.” he whispered, his voice raspy from not being used in hours. “Please.” The desperation in his voice was evident in the way it cracked, in the way his chest tightened, in the way his throat constricted.

But she didn’t. Not for two weeks.

The medics reassured the team that she was showing positive signs and was going to be fine. They explained that in cases of severe internal bleeding within the abdominal cavity, it was common for patients to take longer to regain consciousness. "Sometimes, this can lead to hypovolemic shock and reduced blood flow to vital organs, including the brain," said the doctor they were currently questioning, one arm cradling a notepad against his chest while the other gestured towards her on the hospital bed, "which contributes to the prolonged unconsciousness she's experiencing."

Once the team's questions were answered, the doctor turned towards the door, his pen moving rapidly across the notepad as he scribbled something down. Upon reaching the door, he paused, pivoting back to face them. "While I can't predict the exact timeline for her awakening, I want to reassure you that we're doing everything we can to support her recovery." Tucking his pen back into his chest pocket, he scanned the room, meeting each person's gaze before lingering on on the genius’.

"Every individual responds differently to trauma and surgery, and it's not uncommon for patients to take some time to regain consciousness," he said, his tone gentle and reassuring, his kind smile directed at Spencer. "However, I want to emphasize that she's showing positive signs of progress, and her body is responding well to treatment. She should be waking up soon." With a final nod in the genius’ direction, he opened the door and disappeared into the flow of medical staff and patients outside her room.

The doctor's reassuring words and comforting demeanor provided Spencer with a small sense of relief.

As the days stretched on, nearing the two-week mark since her surgery, Spencer's exhaustion was becoming more evident. Dark circles underlined his eyes, his hair unkempt, and he felt the weight of fatigue settling into his bones. Sitting by her bedside day after day had taken its toll, leaving him feeling drained and with a sore backside.

It wasn’t until night, when he was alone with her again that he made a promise. “If you wake up tomorrow, I promise—“ He delicately released her hand, curling his fingers into a fist before extending his pinky finger to link with hers. “I pinky promise,” he whispered, a soft, trembling laugh escaping his lips as he recalled her insistence that a promise was only truly binding if sealed with a pinky. “If you wake up tomorrow, I’ll tell you everything.”

He had made up his mind days ago, swearing to himself that the moment she regained consciousness, he would lay everything bare. He hoped that verbalizing the promise would somehow penetrate her unconsciousness and draw her back to him.

As the night wore on and the room bathed in the soft glow of predawn, his senses awakened to a subtle movement near his head, his mind clouded with confusion as he remained still, trying to grasp his surroundings.

He found himself in a hazy state, unable to pinpoint the exact moment sleep had claimed him, yet the sensation of their linked pinkies lingered, his other hand placed gently on her leg, while his head rested on the bed.

It wasn’t until he felt his pinky being squeezed that Spencer’s senses sharpened, his back straightening with a crack as his eyes snapped into focus on her. The familiar furrow returned to her brow as she squeezed her eyes shut, her free hand instinctively reaching up to rub at her forehead.

His breath caught in his throat, his body frozen as he stared at her, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

“Spence?”

Her voice was raspy, her tone confused as her eyes opened and scanned the room. Without hesitation, he rose from his seat, hands releasing hers as he hurried to the table with the water bottles. He swiftly grabbed one, unscrewing the cap as he returned to her side.

She struggled to lift herself up on her elbows, her eyes tracking his movements, fixated on the open water bottle as he presented it to her. With a gentle nod from her, he brought the bottle closer, tipping it carefully as it reached her parched lips, his other hand positioned beneath her chin, ready to catch any droplets that might escape.

After consuming almost half of the bottle, she gently pushed it away from her lips, taking a moment to swallow the last gulp before lying back down.

He remained in a state of shock, his mind racing faster than it had in weeks, attempting to process the moment as he observed her shifting, striving to find a comfortable position.

“Spence?”

“You—” he began, his words trailing off as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. “You are awake.”

At his words, a gentle smile, the one he had longed to see for weeks, graced her lips. She nodded in acknowledgment as she looked at him. Without hesitation, he moved forward, enveloping her in a tight embrace, being careful not to hurt her. "You're awake," he whispered softly, his face nuzzling into her neck.

He knew he was supposed to call a nurse in —something the staff had reminded him of repeatedly— , but in that moment, he couldn’t bear to let her go. So, he held her tighter, his arms enveloping her as if protecting her from everything, his hand gently cradling the back of her head, thumb tracing soothing circles as he drew her closer.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity before he released her from his embrace, his body reluctantly withdrawing from her warmth. His hands remained, tenderly cupping her face as he gazed into her eyes, memorizing every detail of her being.

"I have to tell you something," he whispered, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The familiar nerves and doubt flooded back, causing his heart to race so fast that he knew that if he had been the one hooked up to the machines, medics would have surely burst into the room thinking someone was having a heart attack.

He hesitated, his eyes lingering on her face, absorbing every detail illuminated by the gentle glow of the sun filtering into the room.

In his hesitation, his mind revisited every memory he shared with her. He recalled the moments he wanted to confess but held back, as well as his conversation with Rossi. Then, the memory of their pinky promise last night resurfaced, reminding him of his commitment. He couldn’t break a pinky promise.

“Spencer?”

“I love you.” There. He said it. His gaze lowered in fear of rejection, the nerves in his stomach growing, but he kept going, he had to. “I am so unimaginably in love with you.”

“Spencer—“

“No, I need—“ he paused, his eyes brimming with unshed tears, gazing still fixated downward as he cleared his throat from the imaginary knot that was beginning to form there. “I need you to know that every time you smile, every time you laugh, every time you talk to me, it’s like my whole world lights up.”

“And when you look at me, it’s like everything else fades away, and there’s just you.” With a deep inhale, he squeezed his eyes shut, colors swirling behind his eyelids from the pressure, before slowly exhaling and looking up to meet her gaze. “I can’t even scientifically explain how you make me feel. There is no book, or research article that explains what you make me feel.”

One of his hands left her face, gesturing through the air as he attempted to explain everything without the safety net of statistical knowledge. “Every time I’m near you, it’s like my heart speeds up so much that, scientifically speaking, I should be dead.” The quiet chuckle that escaped her lips reached his ears, easing the tight lines on his forehead as his lips formed into a gentle smile. “But it doesn’t matter, because being near you makes me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt before.”

“Every little thing you do, it just… it makes me fall more and more in love with you.”

“God, I’ve loved you for so long.” His hand halted its relentless movement and lowered to push the hair out of his eyes before running down his face with a grunt of frustration.

"I've fought multiple inner battles trying to tell you how I feel, only to back down at the last minute, silently promising myself that I would do it the next day."

Her eyes softened at his words, her lips pulling into a sad smile as his remained parted, eyes teary as they left her gaze and focused on his lap. “And then you got shot and I—“ The memories of everything that happened in the last two weeks rushing back to him. "I thought I had run out of next days.”

Her hand, which had been holding his against her cheek, shifted gently, cupping his cheek and wiping away the tear that had managed to escape his eyes.

With a sigh, he looked up to meet her eyes again, his own free hand coming up to hold the hand she now had on his cheek. He leaned into her touch, his head resting against her hand as she rubbed soothing circles against the stubble that had appeared after weeks of not shaving. “I adore you.”

His face inched closer to hers, resting his forehead against hers. "I’m fine with whatever you want as long as I'm able to have you in my life," he whispered, his warm breath brushing against her skin. "I love you so, so much. Always." With that, their foreheads separated and his lips moved up to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead.

The room fell silent, his words hanging in the air as she processed them. After another second, Spencer moved, standing up and letting her know that he was going to go get a nurse before quickly disappearing.

The nurses flooded her room with warmth and care, each one exuding kindness as they attended to her needs, explaining her situation, answering questions, and expressing relief that she was recovering well.

Spencer stood patiently by the door, his shoulder leaning against the frame as he observed the nurses with gratitude, thanking them as they left after ensuring everything was in order.

As the last nurse made her way to the door, she slowed her footsteps, casting a reassuring smile at Spencer. “I told you she’d be alright, sweetheart,” she said with a gentle tone.

Marisa, the lovely old nurse, had not only been concerned about his best friend’s well-being but also his. The genius could confidently say that, had it not been for Marisa, he probably would’ve starved in that hospital chair.

She would often stop by during her morning shift, offering reassurance that she would be alright, often bending a few hospital rules to make Spencer more comfortable, providing him with the comfiest blankets, or allowing him to take showers in the bedroom’s bathroom so he wouldn’t have to leave her side.

She also insisted on him taking breaks to get some fresh air, eat proper meals, and change his clothes, assuring him that if anything happened, she would call him immediately.

With a comforting squeeze to his arm, the nurse left, closing the door gently behind her and leaving the two of them alone in the room.

As he settled back into the familiar chair, their eyes met once more, exchanging a silent understanding. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, relishing each other's presence. Eventually, Spencer broke the quietude. "I should call the team," he suggested softly.

He rose from the chair, his hand diving into his pocket to retrieve his phone. With his back turned to her, he scrolled through his contacts, his foot shifting slightly as he prepared to step away.

Before he could get far, his movements halted by the touch of her hand on his arm, he lowered his phone and turned back to her, meeting her gaze with curiosity. "Wait," she said softly. With a nod, he returned his phone to his pocket, yielding to her gentle tug until he found himself seated by her side on the bed.

A grunt of discomfort escaped her lips as she struggled to sit up, reaching out for his hand for support. Once she was upright, she shifted closer to him. “What are- oomf—“ before he could finish, his question was cut off by the sudden press of her lips against his, her hands gripping the back of his head.

His body momentarily stiffened, eyes widening in surprise as he tried to process what was happening. When it finally clicked, the initial shock turned into a gentle surrender as he closed his eyes, allowing himself to be swept away by the warmth of her lips against his.

With a soft exhale, his hand instinctively rose to caress her cheek, pulling her face even closer to his and deepening the kiss.

If he had ever believed his heart couldn’t beat any faster than when in her presence, he stood corrected. Now, he was certain he was experiencing a heart attack.

His lips moved against hers so perfectly, as if they had kissed a thousand times before, as if their souls recognized each other instantly.

It was perfect, not because it was flawless, but because it felt so real.

He never wanted to stop; her lips were addicting, but when his lungs screamed at him for air, he reluctantly pulled his lips away from hers, resting his forehead against hers as they caught their breath.

“I love you too, Spencer.”

His head jerked back, eyes wide open as he looked at her, scanning her expression, looking for any hint that she was lying, only to find honesty shining through her eyes.

With a laugh, she took his face back in her hands, pulling him closer and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “You have, and will always be the one my heart searches for in a world full of everyone else.”

With a toothy smile, he pulled her lips back to his, chuckling inwardly, as their lips met, acknowledging that if he thought he reached the peak before, he was mistaken again. His heart was racing faster than ever before. A heart attack of a different kind.

A heart attack that he’d gladly experience a million times more.