Aron remained at Max's side in the hospital, refusing to leave. The steady rhythm of the machines, the soft hiss of oxygen, the faint antiseptic smell that clung to the air, all of it pressed on him like a weight. Max still hadn't woken up from his wound.
The doctors had already assured him that everything was fine. In fact, they said Max was healing faster than expected, his body recovering in ways that almost defied logic. But even with that reassurance, Aron couldn't shake the knot of worry twisting in his chest.
Because in the end, it was his fault. If Aron had been good enough, if he had been strong enough, Max wouldn't have ended up like this in the first place.
'I don't know why you're so focused on these troubles outside of school,' Aron thought bitterly, eyes fixed on Max's still form. 'But once you leave school altogether, maybe it would be best to finally focus on Dennis Stern's request. At least then… at least then I could protect you properly.'
