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"𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐨 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧"

It was a tragedy.

Two people in love, their love so bound to a point where death has occurred at the very tips of their feet.

Love is strong, powerful. Possibly one of the strongest emotions in this lifetime. Humans in love would do anything for their significant other.

Things some shall never name.

In this story, it was a villain save the villain. Both had done bad deeds, both were in love, both had fallen so deep into it—their nature wasn't the same because two cold hearts seemed to make one whole warm heart.

He came to rescue her from death. Although, they both had ended up at the mere edge of it.

The boy sat at the edge of her hospital bed, staring lifelessly at the heart monitor. Her inhales were heavy and deep, unreal.

Her breathing was practically being held by the life support machine, the lungs were bruised from the lack of oxygen lately.

A coma, she was in. No time could tell when she would waken—it had already been a week.

Roman wished it was him there in her position. His girl shouldn't be lying in a dirty bed, her limp body supplying with sounds of her insides that seemed to revolve around the machines around her.

It had only been a week he and she had gotten shot. His wound was not as serious as hers. Clearly.

Pain and agony were what everyone felt. The drugs the captors had injected her with had surely done the job for her lack of breathing.

It was unclear what her bruised features expressed—since the clear oxygen mask over the half part of her face—covered that.

Roman was far near the edge. If she didn't survive this, if she didn't wake—he was sure to blow. He was being patient for her, every night he stayed here with her—never talking, only being in the presence of her body and soul.

She had a wheelchair next to her bed, waiting for her to wake and to put it to use.

His eyes looked past her, towards the chair. The fact that she had to use one made him scoff. The shit she'd gone through because of them was why.

It was around midnight, the windows inside the room only revealing darkness behind them. The whole 'situation' was dealt with. In other words, the enemies died a slow, painful death.

Haley was the one to shoot the bullet through the current girl in a coma. She pierced it straight through her back, hitting something vital—obviously.

Roman was still unsure as to who had shot him. No one had seen who pulled the trigger, although, whoever did was most definitely dead. Roman and Arabella's father had made sure everyone who dared to touch the young girl was tortured greatly—until they begged to die.

Sighing, the young man walked over to the side of his girl. Her wired up hand, resting peacefully by her side.

As he stared down at it, unconsciously, he took her hand in his. The same sparks and unremitting feelings coursed through him—it was what made him addicted to her touch in the first place.

Although, her usually warm and caressing hand—which sometimes went clammy in his own—due to her nerves—was now completely cold and dry.

The soft palm rested with his, lacing his larger fingers through the gaps of her smaller, slender ones. He looked down at her, heartbeats slowing with every passing inhale she made—the exhale being rough and pressured.

"I'm sorry this happened, mia ragazza," Slowly, he pulled their entwined hands to his lips—kissing the delicate skin of her cold hand.

Translation: 'My Girl'

The heart rate monitor sped up, his eyes snapping there as its rings sounded for a few seconds—before going back to normal.

Exhaling a sigh of relief, he curiously but coldly looked back down to his girlfriend. Curious to know if she could feel his touch, hear his words.

Shaking his head, he let go of her palm and went back to the uncomfortable beige chair. Sinking down, he watched her silently from beside the bed.

Memories flooded his mind. Pressuring each memory with her into his brain, mentally visualising their moments.

The smile she graced when he called her such things or did such things. Sometimes he didn't even need to do or say anything and there she would be, smiling.

Two dimples on each cheek, deep and suppressing. Plump, pink lips were curved and upturned into the soft, natural smile she was blessed with.

Certain rays of light shone in her eyes, a glimmering sort of notion in the grey pools. It was always like that when she would look at him.

He remembered the night they met, the mission she was on, and the view of her simply murdering someone in front of him. Of course, it wasn't flattering—though it was simply perfect for him.

He, himself, had finished business that night, sneaking out the back to have an inhale of tobacco—to heal his needs of wanting to rip the throat out of the man he was dealing with.

And then she appeared. His attention was drawn to her right from the beginning, casting his attention in every way possible.

It was like a moth to a flame type of attraction. Sure, he didn't show it. But deep inside, he knew from the beginning that she was going to be trouble—trouble for him.

Ruining his heartless heart and turning it into a love-filled one, though only for her.

But he would do it again. A thousand times or more, if so. Because that was how much he loved her, he would simply die for her—take her place in death if so.

The voicemail she left was on replay. Not admitting it to himself, but he soon felt that the only place to be with her emotionally was with that voicemail.

Every time she mentioned 'cheeseburger', he counted. He promised himself, when she woke up, he would go out and grab her the meal.

That reminded him again of his reality. Eyes darkened and narrowed in on the mask over her face, realising that she might not even wake up.

It was surreal to him. It was unnatural seeing Arabella like this. Usually her giggles or her melodic, soft voice rambling—would be filled with the room, in her presence.

Though she wasn't. Her whole body and partially her soul was on life support. Waiting to awaken.

Roman hadn't slept in a good two weeks. He refused to, not without her by his side. But at this moment, a weak and unspeakable moment, his eyes closed—head resting on the gap beside the girl's hand.

Imaging her hand brushing through his hair—helping him fall, he slowly drifted.

Drifting into an unsettling sleep, full of nothing but void and hurt. His soul drifted into a mindless state while his body stiffened when her hand went into his hair—thinking he was imaging it, he let himself continue to fall.

✰

Arabella's eyes opened.

The light around the room disturbed her foggy eyes. She blinked once, then twice. Adjusting to it, she looked around the room and frowned.

The cords that stuck to her like leeches immensely caught her attention. She nearly gagged seeing the needles stuck inside her veins.

A mask covered her face, making her instantly lift a weak hand up—only for it to be dropped down. She frowned again. Her strength seemed to be down—completely.

She looked around the room. Seeing as if nobody had been in here. Although, the slight dip in the bed to her left—was what convinced her that she hasn't been alone.

Upon that, her eyes snapped towards the door as it creaked open. Out of shock, they widened a fraction as her heart sped up at the mere sight of Roman.

And due to this, his eyes snapped away from

the phone he was glaring at—hearing the heart monitor speed up—his glare soon turned into a normal emotionless state.

A slow, genuine smile crossed his lips as he saw the girl that had awakened. Arabella made a move to say a word, though it came out like nothing.

Roman made his way over to the girl, heart racing like her own was.

He dropped the phone and the packet of skittles onto the end of the bed, Arabella lifted her less weakened hand and pointed to the mask—silently telling him

to take it off.

She watched his eyes glance down towards it, he brought one hand to the mask and the other behind her head—lifting the mask and unstrapping it around her head.

Roman took caution of this. He didn't want her struggling to breathe without it, though she was uncomfortable and was awake—so he considered it should be fine. He hoped.

Arabella inhaled deep breaths through her nose and exhaled out of her mouth. The air around her bringing her a refreshing sensation to her lungs.

"Water?" Roman asked her, already going over to the freshwater bottle he bought an hour ago. Without a response, Arabella watched him come back over as he uncapped the lid.

His rather large hand came under her chin, so delicately lifting it, his touch might've just been a feather.

Slowly, her head raised slightly—the back of the bed mostly supported her head either way. He gradually tilted the contents into her mouth, only allowing small sips.

Arabella drank, she kept it going up until the bottle was half empty. Roman made sure that she hadn't wanted anymore before pulling it away, leaving it aside.

Finally, Arabella was in a much better state to appreciate the man in front of her. And as for Roman, the relief he felt could finally exhale through him.

"I've missed you so much, baby." Roman sat to the side, his voice strained and emotionless—yet incredibly soft.

Arabella smiled, blinkering tears filled the light pools of grey. Her heart contained of love for the only man she'd ever want.

"I missed you more,"

The sound of her voice made her wince. It was incredibly raspy, like a smokers voice per se.

Roman didn't care, he didn't even realise. All he cared about was the health and safety of his girl.

"How do you feel?" Taking her hand, he questioned with deep concern.

Arabella lightly shrugged, her face contorting into a slight scowl as it physically hurt her. He sighed. Knowing it'll take a while for her to get back into the game.

"I'm really sore," She whispered, her voice less raspy but more croaky and soft.

He removed his hand from her hand and placed it to her bruised cheek, moving his thumb up and down her skin—soothingly.

Before he could get a word in, she gasped. "Y-You got shot too! Are you okay?" Arabella freaked. Her eyes widened as great concern fell over her—completely blinding her from the pain she just caused herself.

"Relax, Ella. I'm fine." He faintly smirked, watching her worried expression fall into a dense act of annoyance.

"You're not 'fine' Roman! Let me see." She demanded, raising both her brows at him as she waited.

Said boy stared at her longingly. Being reminded of how much he loved her. Standing, he brought one hand to his shirt and lifted it up halfway—just enough to see the white patch that covered his stitches.

She frowned. "Are you in pain?"

"No." He simply answered, letting the shirt fall and stepping forward. "Are you lying to me?" Her voice cracked mid-sentence—causing her lips to curl in disgust.

"I'm not." He replied, taking another step forward as he reached for her hand again. It was warm, it was soft and it felt like her again.

"Are you sure?"

He sighed, shaking his head amusedly as he slowly brought his lips in front of hers. Arabella didn't move an inch, just waiting to see what he was going to do.

Moving closer, his lips touched hers delicately. A feather touch of a kiss ignited onto her lips. He pecked them, then he pecked the corner of her lips and then the tip of her rosy cheekbone.

"I love you." He whispered into her ear, rubbing tiny circles along her palm. She giggled, the sound so heartwarming to her but the whisper tickled her neck.

"I love you, Roman."

Together, the two swam in the presence of each other. Embracing every second to their fullest, knowing now to never take a second for granted.

Arabella and Roman both savoured it.

Savoured the love for each other and their embrace.