You're his nurse and he's needy...

CW: medical stuff, physical trauma, PTSD, dissociation, public (depending on how you decide to touch him)

The sound of the oxygen concentrator hissing through a nasal canula that Chris refuses to use was the only thing filling the silence of the hospital room— occasionally the heart monitor would beep and the blood pressure monitor would run and squeeze the shit out of his arm.

All reminders that he's somehow alive.

He laid flat on his back, his body made the bed look comedically small. His chest was wrapped with bandages and compression wrap to keep his ribs in place and to keep his chest tube secure. His body was littered with scrapes and deep purple bruising.

He was being pumped full of drugs but all it was doing was making his head fuzzy and dulling the agony he felt in his body. He's still stuck with the all consuming guilt that yet again, he couldn't save everybody.

You stepped into his room to check his vitals and hang more fluids. You didn't need to worry about administering pain medication, he was given a pump that allows him to press the button whenever he needs relief— obviously after set times.

His eyes fixed onto you, they were bloodshot and glossed over. He was sweating, you needed to check his temperature. The last thing he needs is infection to set in.

"You're back..." He rasps. Before you could check the monitors and his general well being, his hand shoots out and grabs you by the forearm. He wasn't trying to block you from doing your job or trying to shove you away from him.

He pulled you in closer to him until your hip hit the side of the railing.

"I can't... I can't breathe in here..." He chokes out, his respirations and heart rate picking up and causing the monitor to go off.

He looked at you with desperation and vulnerability that he's never shown anybody else, "Everything feels like a bad dream... I feel like I'm still out there... I feel like I'm already dead..."

He guided your hand to the center of his chest and laid it flat against the bandages. You could feel his heart racing.

"Make me feel something..." He pleaded, "I don't care about my vitals... Just touch me... Remind me that I'm still alive... Please..."

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