The world outside the hospital seemed distant and uncaring, the gray clouds overhead casting a gloomy shadow over the city. Adrian followed Mathew, Ethan Levidis's assistant, through the sterile hallways of the hospital.
The walls around him felt like they were closing in, each step taking him further away from the life he had known and deeper into a reality that felt like a waking nightmare.
Mathew's expression was unreadable as they walked, his usual composed demeanor unshaken by the gravity of the situation. When they finally reached the door to Ethan's room, Mathew paused, turning to Adrian with a look that could only be described as detached.
"Mr. Hudel," Mathew began, his tone clipped and professional, "from this moment on, you are the only one responsible for Mr. Ethan Levidis's care. No one else will be attending to him, so it is your duty as his spouse to ensure that he is kept clean and comfortable."
Adrian barely reacted. His mind was a fog of emotions, too overwhelmed to process the words fully. He simply nodded, his body moving on autopilot as Mathew pushed open the door to Ethan's room and motioned for him to enter.
The room was dimly lit, the only sound the soft hum of the medical equipment monitoring Ethan's condition. Adrian's breath caught in his throat as he stepped inside, his eyes immediately drawn to the figure lying on the hospital bed.
Ethan Levidis was a handsome man, even in his weakened state. His tall, muscular frame was covered by a thin hospital gown, his pale skin a stark contrast against the white sheets. His face, though gaunt and colorless, retained the strong, masculine features that had once made him the object of admiration and desire. Dark hair framed his face, tousled slightly as if even in his unconscious state, it had a life of its own.
But it was Ethan's stillness that struck Adrian the most. There was something deeply unsettling about seeing someone so powerful, so capable, lying helpless on a hospital bed. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of the machines that kept him alive, his strong hands resting lifelessly at his sides. The coldness of his skin was evident even from a distance, a sharp reminder of the life that had been drained from him.
Why...is fate always so unforgiving?
Ethan looked like a man who had once been full of life, vitality, and strength—a man who had been reduced to a fragile shell by the cruel hand of fate.
The reality of it all came crashing down on Adrian in that moment. He was now responsible for this man, this stranger who had been thrust into his life without warning. And yet, Adrian felt a connection to Ethan, a bond forged by the shared tragedy of their circumstances. They were both victims in this, pawns in a game neither of them had chosen to play.
Tears welled up in Adrian's eyes, the weight of his new responsibilities overwhelming him. He sank to the floor, curling up into a ball as the tears began to fall freely. The cold tiles pressed against his skin, but Adrian didn't care. He was too consumed by the fear and sorrow that had taken hold of his heart.
He didn't know why but he just wanted to let go of everything and leave this world.
"How can I take care of you," Adrian whispered, his voice choked with sobs, "when I can't even take care of myself?"
He buried his face in his hands, the tears flowing faster now as the reality of his situation became too much to bear. He felt like a child again, lost and alone in a world that was too harsh, too unforgiving.
Eventually, the sobs subsided, and Adrian wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. His gaze shifted back to Ethan's motionless form, and he felt a surge of guilt for the selfishness of his tears. This wasn't just about him anymore. Ethan needed someone to care for him, to be there for him in his time of need. And that someone, whether Adrian liked it or not, was him.
With a deep, shuddering breath, Adrian pushed himself up from the floor. His legs felt weak, his body exhausted from the emotional outburst, but there was a new resolve in his heart. He walked over to the bed, his footsteps quiet on the tiled floor, and stood by Ethan's side.
For a moment, Adrian hesitated, unsure of what to do. His hand hovered over Ethan's, the warmth of his own skin starkly contrasting with the coldness of Ethan's.
Adrian swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he spoke. "Ethan… I don't know if you can hear me, but I want you to know that I'm here for you. I'll take care of you, no matter what. We're… we're bound by fate now, and I'll do my best to honor that."
With that, Adrian stepped away from the bed and made his way to the small bathroom attached to the room. The light flickered on as he entered, casting a pale glow over the cold, clinical space. Adrian splashed water on his face, trying to wash away the remnants of his tears, but the sadness lingered, a constant presence that refused to be erased.
---
Ethan Levidis, or rather, his spirit, hovered above his unconscious body, his form translucent and barely visible to the human eye. He had been drifting in a state of limbo, aware of his surroundings but unable to interact with them.
It was a strange, disorienting existence, one that left him feeling both connected to and separated from the world of the living.
When Ethan had first seen Adrian enter the room, he had felt nothing but indifference. He knew who Adrian was, of course—his new "wife," the man who had been forced into this marriage against his will.
But Ethan had no interest in this arrangement, no desire to involve himself in the affairs of the living. He had long since accepted his fate, the endless void that awaited him if he could not wake from his coma.
But then, Ethan saw something that stirred something within him—something he hadn't felt in a long time. As Adrian sank to the floor, curling up in a ball and crying his heart out, Ethan felt a pang of… something.
It wasn't quite sympathy, but it was close. Seeing the boy, so small and fragile, weeping on the cold floor, touched a part of Ethan's soul that he thought had been lost forever.
For a moment, Ethan forgot that he was a spirit, that he couldn't interact with the world around him. He wanted to reach out, to comfort Adrian, to tell him to get off the cold floor before he caught a chill. But of course, he couldn't. His voice, his touch, meant nothing in this form.
When Adrian returned to the room, his face freshly washed and his expression determined, Ethan found himself looking at the boy in a new light. There was a kindness in Adrian's eyes, a gentleness that was rare in the world Ethan had known.
Adrian approached the bed again, his movements tentative but purposeful. He reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair from Ethan's forehead, a simple, tender gesture that made Ethan's heart ache with a longing he hadn't felt in years.
"I'll do my best," Adrian whispered, his voice soft but resolute. "I promise."
Ethan mumbled under his breath.
"Interesting..."