So, I'd recommend that you watch The War Boys. It's an amazing film.
Bleep. Bleep. Bleep. The constant noise of the heart monitor coupled with the sweltering heat of the hospital room meant George couldn't sleep. But there was no fucking way on earth that he'd leave this room. Not when David fucking Welch lay in its single hospital bed. George had a hold of his hand. He could feel the gentle pulse in his thumb. David Welch. The single most important thing or person in the whole goddamn world right now to George.
He's been sat there for three days now. Three days since they took the bullet from David's shoulder. He doesn't know how long it's been since he ate. He's numb; he doesn't feel hungry anyway. He's barely slept; he's not been able to. He gently squeezes David's motionless hand. He starts slightly when the previously motionless hand squeezes back.
George is still for a moment, staring at David intently. Slowly, slowly, David's eyes flicker open. George doesn't move. David looks at him and chuckles weakly. "You look like you've seen a ghost." he says. George grins, weakly, and lets out a sigh of relief. He leans down and buries his head in David's neck. "You had me fucking terrified." he confesses into David's skin, murmuring. David laughs weakly. "'M sorry. I won't do it again."
"You'd better fucking not." George growls. And kisses the skin beneath his mouth. David smiles.