Evaline:
I squeezed Draven's hand gently, my fingers wrapped around his cold ones as if warmth alone could will him back to me.
I had been sitting beside his bed for nearly half an hour now, long enough for the silence to feel heavy, long enough for the ache in my chest to deepen instead of dull. I had come down here to bid him farewell... to tell him goodbye, to promise I would see him again during the weekend.
But my feet refused to move.
Every time I told myself - just one more minute - that minute stretched into another. And then another.
So here I was, still perched on the small stool beside his bed, still holding his hand like letting go might mean losing him all over again.
Draven lay there exactly as he had for the past two months - too still, too quiet, his chest rising and falling softly. His face was calm, almost peaceful, as if he were merely sleeping after a long, exhausting day. If someone didn't know better, they might think he was dreaming.
I knew better.
