C҉R҉O҉W҉ | ᴍᴄᴜ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ＩＩＩ - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫

METRO GENERAL, HOSPITAL

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O N E Y E A R A G O

THE RHYTHMIC BEATING of the heart monitor reverberated like a somber lullaby. Y/N, stood with a stoic expression on his face beside Austin, watching as their father laid before them, his once robust figure now lost in a maze of tubes and monitors.

Each breath, a fragile whisper against the silence.

Austin, clutching Y/N's hand, was a small figure of vulnerability. His eyes wide and fearful as he gazed upon their father's emaciated form. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic, mingling with an unspoken dread.

Eliza's hand continued to clasp onto Iman's, seemingly never letting go even with the needles and the tubes ingrained on her husband's veins. She leans closer, kissing it as she leaned back.

As she did so, she looked back at her two boys, frowning once she had seen the down look on their faces. Her eyes carrying a sorrowful yet unyielding strength.

It was then when she approached the boys, her hand tenderly brushing Y/N's shoulder, flashing the eldest a soft smile, before kneeling to her youngest to meet Austin's gaze.

"Do you remember the story of the Little Bear constellation?" she began, her voice a soothing balm on the harsh atmosphere. Austin nodded, his tight and tense grip on Y/N's hand loosening slightly.

She smiled, a wistful curve that spoke of deep resilience. "Your father loves that story. Just like the Little Bear, he's strong and protective, watching over us even in the darkest nights." Her hand gestured to the window where stars began to twinkle in the dusk.

"Tonight." she continued, "he's just resting, gathering strength from the stars. And we're here, like little stars ourselves, shining our love and hope for him." Her gaze encompassed both her sons, enveloping them in her fortitude.

Y/N felt a swell of emotion, his mother's words painting a picture of hope amidst their despair. He watched as Austin's eyes, reflecting a mix of sadness and wonder, turned towards their father, seeing him not just as a figure in a hospital bed, but as their guiding star.

Their mother encouraged them to share their favorite memories of their father, turning the room into a canvas of laughter and cherished moments.

They recounted birthday surprises, and quiet evenings at home. Each memory was a light, piercing the somber mood, crafting a tapestry of love and unity.

As they spoke, their father's breathing seemed to sync with their stories, a silent participant in their journey of remembrance.

In that small hospital room, a haven of warmth and affection was forged.

Amidst the trials of life and the shadow of uncertainty, they found solace and strength in one another.

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P R E S E N T