Marlowe
Dorian looked pale and exhausted against the hospital pillows, hooked to a monitor that beeped with steady, reassuring rhythm, and his face broke into something relieved and guilty simultaneously the moment he saw me enter.
"You didn't need to come," he said, voice weak. "I'm fine. Considerably embarrassed about the whole thing, honestly, but fine."
"Of course I needed to come." I settled into the chair beside his bed, studying him with careful concern. "What happened, exactly? Marla said stress-related, but that's a fairly vague explanation."
He was quiet a moment, something uncomfortable crossing his tired features. "I've been pushing myself. Working extra shifts, taking on more than I probably should, trying to prove the redemption is genuine instead of just words. I think m
