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Somehow, this was all his fault.
Warren couldn't help but blame himself -- how could he have missed the signs??
None of this would've happened if he had just stepped out of his selfish little bubble and paid attention to what was in front of him.
“I'm so sorry.” Warren pleads, but he knows it's unheard in the eerily white and sterile hospital room. He is in a coma and it's all Warren's fault.
“I'm so sorry,” Warren sobs repeatedly, his palm shaking in Nathan's cold and clammy hand. “Please, just wake up.”
And selfish request, yes, but it's all Warren needs to keep calm.
A slight squeeze on his hand and Warren's head shoots up, hope and adrenaline quickly zooms in his veins.
But Nathan doesn't open his eyes.
Warren questions whether it even happened, and if it ever will.
----
Never ending darkness eludes him. He can't move but it's so much space. Nathan's head feels both light and smashed in, thumping without a pulse.
It's been this way for a while now. Too long. He wonders if it'll stop eventually.
But he's the bad guy, right? So it'd be fucking ironic if the complete unconscious isolation never did end.
But for brief moments, moments that Nathan has come to look forward to, he hears something. It's not quite a song, but it's soothing enough. Every so often, he feels something warm touch his hand.
But he can't move.
The warmth reminds Nathan that there's something there. Something beyond the blackness that if he's just a bit more stronger, he could break free.
It's the murmurs that passes through it all that encourages Nathan to take another step forward.
He takes a step forward.
So when he feels something warm touch his hand once again…
...He squeezes back.