His kisses turn slower, deeper, but still with a desperate edge. He wants her closer closer closer, wants to touch every part of her to know she's real and really here with him, wanting him just as much as he wants her.

But he needs to know she's okay. She can't even be feeling very good physically. He takes her face in his hands and kisses her lips once, a peck.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. When you woke up."

Because he is. He feels awful about it and if he could go back in time and change it, he would. But what's more important-

"I know you can't be... 'okay', but... are you okay?" he says, face still wet and puffy.