I stare at him, as his hand presses against my chest. Memories wash over me, recent times together, recent intimacy. Before his hospital time, before I thought I was going to lose him.

Clutching at him. Crying. Trying to find his heartbeat.

"You're going to keep on fighting." I finish my drink and stare down into its empty depths. I just...

"You're going to keep on fucking fighting." I fling my cup at the wall, watching the glass shatter.