Val woke slowly, surfacing through layers of aching heaviness and fog. Her ribs throbbed with each breath. Her hands still felt wrapped in fire. But there was something soft and warm curled around her fingers.
She blinked her eyes open.
Elliot was still holding her hand.
He sat slumped in the hospital chair, his head tilted at an uncomfortable angle against the back of the chair, his hair flattened on one side. His fingers, though slack in sleep, remained loosely threaded with hers, as if some instinct refused to let go.
And he was still there.
He had stayed all night.
Noah was dozing in the chair across the room, arms crossed, chin on his chest. He jerked awake a second later, as if he had been sleeping with one ear tuned for any sound.
Elliot stirred at the same moment. A small twitch. A quiet exhale. His eyes opened, hazy with exhaustion. He blinked once, twice, and then his gaze found hers.
He inhaled sharply and sat straighter, embarrassed, startled, confused by the situation he had woken into. But he did not pull his hand away. His fingers curled instead, as if needing the reassurance.
Val smiled at him, soft and small.
"Morning," she whispered.
His cheeks flushed almost instantly. "I… I didn't mean to fall asleep. I was just… watching you. And then… I must have…"
"It's okay," she murmured, her smile warming. "You stayed. That means a lot."
He swallowed hard, his throat working around words he didn't know how to say.
Noah pushed himself up with a quiet groan. "I need to stretch my legs. You two good for a minute?"
Val nodded. Elliot gave a small jerk of his head that might have been a yes. Noah offered them a quick, gentle look before stepping out.
The room was quiet again. Val could hear Elliot's breathing. It sounded laboured. Too careful. He seemed hyper-aware of everything, especially the fact that his hand was still in hers.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
He nodded again. Then another small nod, as if repeating it would make it truer. "You… you scared me."
Her chest tightened. "I know. I'm sorry."
His gaze dropped to their joined hands. "I didn't want to leave."
Val's heart swelled with something tender and piercing.
Before she could answer, the door opened and the morning nurse stepped inside, smiling warmly.
"Good morning, Val. How are you feeling?"
"Sore," Val admitted. "But glad to be awake."
The nurse placed a tray on the table beside the bed. "Try to eat some breakfast."
Val eyed the food. A plastic bowl of porridge. A small yoghurt. A juice box. A spoon she could hardly hold.
She lifted her hands experimentally. The bandages made her fingers stiff and clumsy. She tried to pick up the spoon. It slipped immediately.
"Okay. Well. That isn't going to work," she muttered.
Elliot watched, his expression anxious and uncertain.
"Can… can I help?" he asked.
Val blinked at him. "You want to?"
His ears pinked. "I mean… if you need me to. If you would rather Noah help or the nurse, that's fine too."
She gave a tiny laugh. "I trust you."
Elliot looked as though she had handed him a fragile, precious object. He pulled the chair closer and reached for the spoon, moving slowly, carefully, like he was defusing a bomb. His hands shook a little from nerves, but he steadied himself.
He lifted the spoon to her lips.
Porridge dripped down the side immediately.
Val snorted. Elliot froze, mortified. Then she started laughing. A soft giggle at first. Then a warm, gentle laugh that eased some of the pain in her ribs.
Elliot stared at her for a second, startled by the sound. Then, reluctantly, his own mouth twitched.
"I'm … not good at this," he said.
"You're doing great," she teased.
"I'm literally not."
"Shh. Let me compliment you."
He tried again, slower. The spoonful made it this time. She hummed. "Not bad."
Elliot looked bizarrely proud of himself. His shoulders loosened. The tension in his jaw eased. And for a few minutes they found a rhythm, awkward and clumsy and strangely intimate.
By the time she was halfway through the porridge, Val was giggling each time Elliot concentrated too hard. Elliot was starting to smile without immediately checking if he was allowed to.
Noah returned mid-laugh.
"Well, this is a good sign," he said.
Val grinned at him. Elliot looked down at the tray, flustered.
Noah stretched. "I'm going to go home. Shower. Maybe sleep for an hour or two. You coming El?"
"You can go," Elliot said quickly. "But I'm staying."
Val felt something warm unfurl low in her chest. Noah stilled, studying him with quiet surprise.
"Alright," Noah said. "I'll be back by dinner time. Call me if you need anything."
He squeezed Elliot's shoulder. He gave Val a soft smile. Then he left.
The room felt different after that. Quieter, but fuller somehow.
A little while later, the nurse returned.
"Val, we should get you washed and changed."
Elliot went rigid.
Val lifted her gaze to him. "You can step outside. We'll be fine."
He nodded quickly. "Yes. Yes, of course."
He stood so fast the chair scraped. The sound jolted him and he froze, overwhelmed by the harsh noise. But he backed out of the room, trying not to show how his breathing had changed.
The door closed behind him.
Val grimaced as the nurse helped her sit up and wash. Every movement hurt. But her mind kept drifting to the hallway.
She knew Elliot didn't handle unfamiliar places well. Noises. Movement. Strangers. Constant unpredictability.
And he had been here for hours.
When the nurse finished and opened the door, Val saw him.
He was sitting on the floor beside the wall, his knees pulled up, his headphones pressed tight over his ears. His arms covered his face, his palms braced against his closed eyelids as if trying to hold himself together. His breathing looked too fast, too shallow.
The nurse softened immediately. "Hey, you can go back in now. We are finished."
He nodded without moving his hands for a second. Then he lowered his arms carefully and stood, adjusting his headphones before slipping back into the room as quietly as he could.
Val watched him sit again. He kept his gaze on the floor, shoulders tight.
"Elliot," she said softly. "You can go home if it's too much. I appreciate you staying with me, I really do, but you don't have to push yourself."
He shook his head once. Firm. "No."
She waited for more. He didn't offer any.
He stared at the blanket on her bed. She watched him. The air between them felt thick with words neither knew how to find.
They sat like that for a while. Quiet. Awkward, but not cold. Just two people unsure how to bridge the space between them.
A knock came. The doctor entered again.
"Good morning, Val. How are you feeling now?"
"Sore," Val said, "but better."
"That's good. Based on your scans and vitals, I think you can go home later today. But only if you have someone who can stay with you. With your ribs and hands, you shouldn't be alone for at least a few days."
Val's stomach dipped.
"I… don't have anyone."
The words felt too loud in the room.
No partner. No family. No one waiting for her.
She saw the doctor nod, already preparing to give alternatives. Social care. Extended stay.
But another voice spoke first.
"I can look after her."
Val's head snapped toward Elliot.
He looked terrified. Determined, but terrified.
"If she doesn't mind," he added quickly. His hands fidgeted in his lap. "I mean… I… I can do it. If she would want that. If it would help."
Val's lips parted. "Elliot… it might be too much for you."
His throat bobbed. "I can do it," he said again. Quiet but steady. Then, almost in a whisper: "Unless you would rather I didn't."
She held his gaze.
Her heart beat a little differently. A little faster than usual.
"No," she said softly. "That's okay."
Elliot breathed out. A soft, shaky sound. Relief and fear tangled together.
The doctor made a few notes. "Good. I will return with discharge paperwork later today."
When she left, the room grew quiet again.
Val watched Elliot, really watched him, seeing the tiny tremors in his fingers, the lingering strain in his shoulders, the overstimulation still humming under his skin.
"You don't have to take care of me," she said gently. "But… thank you. It means a lot."
Elliot looked at her for only a heartbeat before looking away again.
"I want to," he said.
Nothing else.
No explanation.
No apology.
Just truth.
And for the first time since waking up, Val felt something calm and steady settle in her chest.
She smiled and stretched her hand out to him.
"Then… okay."
He nodded and took her hand.
Their silence was no longer awkward. It felt like a beginning.
A fragile one.
A warm one.
A beginning shaped exactly like the soft space between their hands.