(no subject)
You wake up to beeps and flashes. You try to talk, but there’s something shoved down your throat. You settle for turning your head and seeing him sitting in the uncomfortable hospital chair. He’s playing his Gameboy. You can guess that it’s more than likely some new Mario game.
You wonder how long he’s been sitting there, but you can’t talk. You wonder if Ryan and Jon have been visiting. Your mind automatically wonders if he’d been fucking Jon in the hospital. You quickly decide wondering is just as bad as wishing.
He must’ve seen you stir, or he can hear your thoughts. He’s beside you, holding your hand. You look up at his eyes, and he’s been crying. He probably doesn’t want you to know, but you can tell.
He must think you deserve to know what you did to yourself- to everyone- because he opens his mouth to speak. “You took a shitload of Zack’s pain medicine. You know, the kind they gave him when he had his knee operation? And well, if I hadn’t found you when I did, you’d be dead. Come to think of it, the doctor said you should be dead. He’s shocked you survived.”
Your eyes are wide. He saved you? The man that caused everything, he saved you?
“It gets worse.” He’s still talking, “The doctor said he’d have to send you to a shrink. He also said to cancel the rest of the tour, you’d need that. I told him you didn’t need a shrink, we have Ryan. He insisted, though.”
If it’s possible, you feel yourself falling even more in love. You nod to show you understand, and he’s practically beaming.
“He says that you can leave in a few days, if you feel all right. Ryan and Jon, they’re at an interview. I said I’d stay with you.” he begins to blush.
You smile and squeeze his hand. Your eyes say something different, though. They’re asking about Jon, and you wish they wouldn’t.
He seems to get it. “He knows what happened. I told him I couldn’t have a boyfriend right now. He understands.”
You promptly choke on the tube, doing who knows what, that’s down your throat.
“Don’t worry, the band is fine. He’s with Beckett.”
You feel your heart rate returning to normal, and you wish you could sigh without it hurting.
“So, I bet you want to know what all’s happened. You’ve been asleep for a week. Not in a coma, though. Ryan’s been blaming himself, saying he shouldn’t have left you alone. He’s taking it the hardest. I made him go to the interview. It means he had to take a shower.”
His words are comfort, even if they aren’t the nicest. Before you know it, you’re sleeping again.
“Shut up! Let him sleep,” someone snaps.
“Sorry,” someone else whispers.
Not that it matters, you’re already awake. You open your eyes and yawn. It hurts a bit, but you notice the missing tube. You open your mouth to talk, but nothing comes out.
“Guys! Spencer’s awake!” Ryan squeals. “Oh god, did we wake you up? I’m so sorry.”
You attempt to calm him down without moving too much. Once he’s calm, you point to your water. You’re hoping it’ll help your voice. Ryan hands it to you, and you drink it.
“You guys didn’t wake me up,” you croak. Your voice is hoarse from a week without use. It stings, too.
“Oh, okay.” Ryan practically collapses on you. “Oh Spence, if I hadn’t left you then things would be all right!”
You pat his back soothingly. “It’s not your fault. Don’t you dare blame yourself.”
“But, I left you.”
“And if you hadn’t, I would’ve done it later. I’m the one to blame.”
Ryan looked up at you. “Why?”
“I-I-I don’t know. I’m so confused. I don’t remember, either.” You look around and realize everyone but the two of you has left.
“It’s all right, you’re allowed to be confused. You just can’t scare us like that again.”
“I’m sorry, Ry.” You hold his hand, it’s not like your muscles will let you do much else.
You two sit there in comfortable silence until everyone else comes back. By then, visiting hours are over, and Brendon’s announced he’s staying the night (‘Like a sleepover,’ he says).
“Bren? You said you saved me?” you begin.
He makes his way over to your bed and sits down. “Yeah.”
“Thank you. It means a lot.”
He smiles at you. “No problem. I’m glad I was able to help for once.”
You push his ‘for once’ comment out of your mind. “Hey, do you want to stay in here with me? I know those chairs can’t be comfortable,” you offer tentatively.
His smile grows. “I’d like that. It can be like a real sleep over!”
You make room for him in the cramped hospital bed. “Comfy?” you ask. Your legs are on top of his, and your arm is above his head.
He laughs and rolls over to face you. “Now I am.”
He wraps his arms around your and goes to sleep.
You wonder how long he’s been sitting there, but you can’t talk. You wonder if Ryan and Jon have been visiting. Your mind automatically wonders if he’d been fucking Jon in the hospital. You quickly decide wondering is just as bad as wishing.
He must’ve seen you stir, or he can hear your thoughts. He’s beside you, holding your hand. You look up at his eyes, and he’s been crying. He probably doesn’t want you to know, but you can tell.
He must think you deserve to know what you did to yourself- to everyone- because he opens his mouth to speak. “You took a shitload of Zack’s pain medicine. You know, the kind they gave him when he had his knee operation? And well, if I hadn’t found you when I did, you’d be dead. Come to think of it, the doctor said you should be dead. He’s shocked you survived.”
Your eyes are wide. He saved you? The man that caused everything, he saved you?
“It gets worse.” He’s still talking, “The doctor said he’d have to send you to a shrink. He also said to cancel the rest of the tour, you’d need that. I told him you didn’t need a shrink, we have Ryan. He insisted, though.”
If it’s possible, you feel yourself falling even more in love. You nod to show you understand, and he’s practically beaming.
“He says that you can leave in a few days, if you feel all right. Ryan and Jon, they’re at an interview. I said I’d stay with you.” he begins to blush.
You smile and squeeze his hand. Your eyes say something different, though. They’re asking about Jon, and you wish they wouldn’t.
He seems to get it. “He knows what happened. I told him I couldn’t have a boyfriend right now. He understands.”
You promptly choke on the tube, doing who knows what, that’s down your throat.
“Don’t worry, the band is fine. He’s with Beckett.”
You feel your heart rate returning to normal, and you wish you could sigh without it hurting.
“So, I bet you want to know what all’s happened. You’ve been asleep for a week. Not in a coma, though. Ryan’s been blaming himself, saying he shouldn’t have left you alone. He’s taking it the hardest. I made him go to the interview. It means he had to take a shower.”
His words are comfort, even if they aren’t the nicest. Before you know it, you’re sleeping again.
“Shut up! Let him sleep,” someone snaps.
“Sorry,” someone else whispers.
Not that it matters, you’re already awake. You open your eyes and yawn. It hurts a bit, but you notice the missing tube. You open your mouth to talk, but nothing comes out.
“Guys! Spencer’s awake!” Ryan squeals. “Oh god, did we wake you up? I’m so sorry.”
You attempt to calm him down without moving too much. Once he’s calm, you point to your water. You’re hoping it’ll help your voice. Ryan hands it to you, and you drink it.
“You guys didn’t wake me up,” you croak. Your voice is hoarse from a week without use. It stings, too.
“Oh, okay.” Ryan practically collapses on you. “Oh Spence, if I hadn’t left you then things would be all right!”
You pat his back soothingly. “It’s not your fault. Don’t you dare blame yourself.”
“But, I left you.”
“And if you hadn’t, I would’ve done it later. I’m the one to blame.”
Ryan looked up at you. “Why?”
“I-I-I don’t know. I’m so confused. I don’t remember, either.” You look around and realize everyone but the two of you has left.
“It’s all right, you’re allowed to be confused. You just can’t scare us like that again.”
“I’m sorry, Ry.” You hold his hand, it’s not like your muscles will let you do much else.
You two sit there in comfortable silence until everyone else comes back. By then, visiting hours are over, and Brendon’s announced he’s staying the night (‘Like a sleepover,’ he says).
“Bren? You said you saved me?” you begin.
He makes his way over to your bed and sits down. “Yeah.”
“Thank you. It means a lot.”
He smiles at you. “No problem. I’m glad I was able to help for once.”
You push his ‘for once’ comment out of your mind. “Hey, do you want to stay in here with me? I know those chairs can’t be comfortable,” you offer tentatively.
His smile grows. “I’d like that. It can be like a real sleep over!”
You make room for him in the cramped hospital bed. “Comfy?” you ask. Your legs are on top of his, and your arm is above his head.
He laughs and rolls over to face you. “Now I am.”
He wraps his arms around your and goes to sleep.