He wakes, but only for a blissful moment, a moment he wishes was in fact an eternity, for he is cursed. The curse is a disease that exists within the mortal shell in which he inhabits.
For three days he wakes, for three days he is free. Three days with her.
She loves him, she cares for him, she always will. When he visits, she shines, the world is a more vibrant place for it.
Together they are unstoppable, they exist for each other, the universe exists for them. The fabric of the very existence they inhabit, it is there for them. For those three days.
Throughout the darkness and cold he sleeps, every night just like you and I. Each time he sleeps he becomes weaker, the curse strikes at his heart.
Always, as it is, on the third day it strikes true, his heart falters, the darkness takes him, he must hide within his own body.
After three nights of sleeping, he will enter a coma, a coma for ten years. This circle exists, just like the warmth of the sun on the earth, the coldness of space, the fabric of being.
He hates no one for it, his sleeping moments happen but do not exist for him. He can remember the sun entering the room, landing on his skin, warming him as he sleeps.
He cannot experience it, just remember it, like a faded picture, discarded and lost, but later found.
She lives every moment, the caring, and the waiting. What is it like to dedicate your existence for three days a decade? She can tell you, but she wouldn't complain.
Those three days are worth living for. Time and space travel around her, through her, she warms them as they pass, her love, their love, affects the flow of the universe.