Y/N Fisk's eyes fluttered open, and he squinted against the harsh light streaming into the hospital room. As his vision adjusted, he became aware of a strange disorientation. Blinking rapidly, he tried to focus, but his efforts were met with a disheartening realization. The world before him was incomplete.

Panic surged through Y/N's veins as he attempted to move his body, his heart pounding in his chest. His hand flew to his face, his fingers exploring his features with a sense of urgency. And then, the truth struck him like a bolt of lightning.

One eye. He couldn't see out of one of his eyes. A profound darkness filled the void where his vision should have been. It was as if a curtain had fallen, obscuring half of his world and leaving him trapped in a fractured reality.

Y/N Fisk lay still on the sterile white hospital bed, his eyes blinking open to a harsh, fluorescent-lit room. His head throbbed with pain as he attempted to gather his bearings, struggling to remember how he ended up here. The last thing he could recall was being in a car, but everything beyond that was an impenetrable fog.

Confusion and fear gripped his heart as he surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was small, filled with medical equipment that beeped and hummed in a disconcerting rhythm. His gaze fell upon the empty seat next to him, the absence of his mother's comforting presence leaving an ache deep within.

As if in response to his silent yearning, the door swung open, and two doctors entered the room. One was a middle-aged man with graying hair, while the other was a young woman with kind eyes. Y/N's anxiety intensified as their sympathetic expressions confirmed his worst fears.

"Y/N Fisk," the older doctor began gently, his voice laced with compassion. "You were in a car accident. You've been unconscious for a few days."

The words crashed into Y/N's mind, shattering the fragile remnants of his memory. The weight of his mother and brother's absence bore down on him, threatening to suffocate him. He felt the sting of tears welling up in his eyes, but he fought to keep his composure.

"What... what happened?" he managed to croak, his voice raw and strained.

The younger doctor, her voice filled with empathy, replied, "Your injuries were severe, but you're fortunate to have survived. Your mother and brother... they didn't make it. I'm so sorry for your loss."

Y/N's world shattered completely, grief crashing over him like an unstoppable wave. It felt as if the ground beneath him had been torn away, leaving him suspended in a void of pain and anguish. He clutched at his chest, his heart aching with a profound sense of loss.

As Y/N Fisk sat in his hospital room, grappling with his emotions and the newfound reality of his partial blindness, he was taken aback by an unexpected visit. The door creaked open, and his father, Wilson Fisk, also known as the notorious Kingpin, entered the room. A towering figure with a powerful presence, Wilson's usually stern expression softened with concern and sorrow as he looked upon his injured son.

Y/N's heart raced at the sight of his father, a mix of complicated emotions welling up within him. The strained relationship they had shared weighed heavily on his mind. But in that moment, as his father stood before him, Y/N detected a flicker of genuine concern, a glimmer of paternal love that he had rarely seen.

"Y/N," Wilson spoke, his voice laced with a touch of vulnerability. "I... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything."

The sincerity in his father's words pierced through the layers of resentment and pain that had built up over the years. Y/N's gaze met Wilson's, and for the first time, he saw his father not as the feared Kingpin, but as a flawed man burdened by his own choices and mistakes.

Silence hung in the air, heavy with unspoken words and unexplored possibilities. Y/N's heart longed for reconciliation, for a chance to mend the broken bonds between them. But before he could find the courage to respond, a soft voice interrupted their moment.

"Duke, wait outside," Wilson said, turning his attention to the elderly butler who had accompanied him into the room.

Duke, a steadfast presence in the Fisk household, nodded in acknowledgment and left the room, closing the door behind him. The quiet click of the door served as a reminder that this was a conversation meant for father and son alone.

Y/N and his father just hugged and held each other.

Vote results

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