Two people where in positions, next to each other. One, was dying, slowly. The other, was trying to keep the first alive.

He clutched her still hand, willing it to grip his back, or poke him on the arm, or point accusingly as him after he made a false statement.

But it stayed still.

He willed her face to scrunch in concentration, or widen into a smile, or bunch into a frown.

But it stayed still.

He watched her eyes, wishing they would glare at him. Anger would be better than this nothing. His maybe last glance of her would be her on the brink of death. He watched her eyes, wanted them to open.

But they stayed still.

(Another feels breaker for you Brooke!)