Tethered

RYAN

It’s been three weeks since I woke up from the coma, but it feels like a lifetime.

The first week was a haze of white hospital walls, sterile smells, and the constant hum of machines. A blur of tests, physical therapy, and more noise than my pounding head could handle. It was relentless—nurses coming and going, doctors asking the same questions, my family hovering like I was on the verge of breaking again.

I don’t remember much from those early days—just fragments of voices, the occasional sting of pain, and Violet’s tears. Her tears, though, are etched into my memory like a scar I’ll never be able to forget.

She cried when I woke up. Not a sob or a wail, but quiet tears that streaked her face as she tried to smile through them. She looked happy and devastated all at once, and I hated it.

When they finally discharged me, my parents insisted I go back to New York with them. They said I needed rest, stability, and a change of scenery—anything to pull me away from the shadows of what had happened.

But New York meant being away from Violet, and I wasn’t willing to let that happen. Not after everything.

So I stayed.

Being here, at least, means I don’t have to face their pity-soaked gazes every second of the day. I don’t have to sit through their minefield conversations, where every word somehow circles back to how I got shot or the secrets I’ve worked so hard to keep buried.

“A few centimeters to the right, and the bullet would’ve pierced his heart.”

The doctor’s words replay in my mind like a haunting refrain. I heard him say it to my father in the hospital.

Too close.

I feel it in every breath I take, every dull ache that radiates through my chest. Death brushed past me that night, close enough to feel its chill, but not close enough to take me.

Sometimes, when I’m alone in the dark, I wonder if it should have. Would it have been easier? Cleaner?

But then I think of Violet. Her voice, her touch, the way she looked at me like I mattered. And just like that, the thought dissolves into nothing.

"And I got the cake after so much stress," Violet’s voice cut through my haze as she walked in, carrying a small white box tied with a ribbon.

She placed it carefully on the table beside me. 

"You got me cake?" I raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Are you trying to fatten me up or just make me feel like a five-year-old on his birthday?"

Violet shot me a look—half amusement, half exasperation—as she pulled a chair closer to the bed. "Considering everything, I thought cake was a safe choice. But if you’re going to complain, I can just eat it myself."

"Easy, Violet," I said, holding up a hand in mock surrender. "No need for threats. I’m still in recovery, you know."

She rolled her eyes but didn’t take the bait. "Recovery or not, you’re still the same annoying Ryan."

"And yet, here you are," I teased, leaning back against the pillows. "Bringing me cake, no less. What kind of cake are we talking about, anyway?"

Violet sighed, untying the ribbon on the box. "Chocolate mousse. From that bakery downtown you wouldn’t stop talking about."

My smirk widened. "You actually went there? That place always has lines out the door."

"Don’t remind me," she muttered, opening the box to reveal the sleek, glossy cake inside. "I stood in line for almost an hour, and some lady tried to cut in front of me. I had to pull out my death glare."

I laughed at the mental image of Violet, all five feet of her, scaring off an entitled bakery customer. "Your death glare? Must’ve been terrifying."

"It worked, didn’t it?" she shot back, cutting a slice of the cake and placing it on a plate.

"True. You’re scarier than you look." I took the plate from her, letting the rich scent of chocolate fill the room. "But I’m impressed. All this for me?"

"Well... you’ve been through a lot. I thought you deserved something nice." She replied.

"Aww, Violet. Are you trying to make me cry? I mean, I did get shot, you know." I teased further

Her eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of a smile on her lips. "Don’t milk it, Ryan. You’re already insufferable."

"Insufferable, but alive," I quipped, taking a forkful of the cake. It was as good as I’d imagined—rich, smooth, and decadent. "And this? This is amazing. You might’ve just earned yourself a spot in my will."

"Your will?" she echoed. "I didn’t realize I was on the verge of inheriting your collection of sarcastic remarks and bad jokes."

I chuckled, savoring another bite. "Hey, don’t underestimate the value of my charm. People would pay good money for this."

"Good thing I got the cake for free, then," she shot back, leaning forward with a raised eyebrow.

I faked a gasp, placing a hand over my chest. "Free? Violet, you mean to tell me you didn’t spend your life savings on this token of appreciation for the guy who just narrowly avoided death?"

"Life savings?" she repeated, laughing softly. "Ryan, if I spent my life savings on cake, I’d need my own hospital bed."

"Good point” I said,as I took another forkful of the cake, savoring it like it was the best thing I’d ever tasted. “You know, Violet, this might actually be the best thing you’ve ever done for me.”

She huffed, leaning back in her chair. “Oh, so now we’re keeping score? Should I remind you of the times I’ve saved your sorry behind?”

“Saved me?” I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Violet, I’m the one who usually does the saving. Let’s not rewrite history here.”

Her expression shifted, the teasing edge softening into something more serious. She fiddled with the ribbon she’d untied earlier, her eyes dropping to her lap. “You got hurt because of me, Ryan.”

I froze mid-bite, the sweetness of the cake suddenly muted by the weight of her words. I placed the fork down, leaning forward slightly. “Violet—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice trembling. “If I hadn’t been there, if I hadn’t—”

“Stop.” My tone was firm, cutting through her self-blame. “You don’t get to do that.”

Her gaze shot up to meet mine, her wide eyes brimming with guilt.

I sighed, picking up the fork again and shoving another piece of cake into my mouth. “Yeah, I got shot. And yeah, it hurt like hell. But you know what? I’d do it again.”

Her lips parted, her breath hitching as she stared at me like I’d just said something insane.

I swallowed, my voice calm but resolute. “Without a doubt, Violet. I’d do it again a thousand times if it meant keeping you safe.”

She blinked, her hands clenching the edge of the chair. “Ryan, you can’t just say things like that. It’s reckless, and—and—”

“Listen to me carefully, mouse.” I interrupted before she could finish.“My whole life,I’ve been this desolate, empty entity of anarchy and violence. A black hole, pulling everything in and giving nothing back. My soul thrives on chaos—it always has. And when it wasn’t chaos, it was art. Some twisted, decadent burst of creativity that kept me from completely unraveling. But even that... even that started to drift away from me, leaving behind nothing but violence in the making. 
Then you came along, and somehow, in that quiet, nerdy way of yours, you filled up the emptiness. You’re not like other girls—the ones who thrive on constant attention, the loud laughter, the shiny, glamorous social scenes that revolve around being the center of everything. You’re different. You don’t need any of that. You weren’t trying to dazzle or outshine anyone; you just are.

And in that simplicity, that unshakable stubbornness of yours, you managed to do what chaos and art never could. You didn’t just distract me—you became the reason I wanted to pull myself out of the darkness. You filled the void with you.. Your ridiculous insistence on finding goodness in everything. Even those lame characters in the books you read, the ones with names so absurd they sound like they belong in a fantasy soap opera.”

Her mouth twitched, and I could tell she was trying not to smile, but I wasn’t done.

“You pushed my creativity to heights I didn’t even think were possible. You made me want to create again, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. And more than that... you made me feel something other than the void. You made me care. About you. About us.”

I reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering for just a moment.

“I promise you this, Violet. I’ll always be here for you. Not because I have to, but because I want to. Because I choose to. You’ve tethered me to something real, something worth fighting for. And I’m in this for the long haul.”

Her eyes shimmered, a mixture of disbelief and emotion, and for once, she didn’t try to argue or deflect. She just sat there, taking it all in.

“Ryan...” she finally whispered, her voice barely audible.

I smirked, leaning back slightly. “And for the record, those characters still have stupid names.”

That earned me a soft laugh. I grabbed her face with both hands and whispered against her mouth, “I love you,Violet”

She inched closer until her llips nearly brush against mine. “And I love you, Ryan.  Forever.”
Her lips met mine and I sealed the confession with a searing kiss.