It was a cold December night. Snowflakes were dancing joyfully through the frozen air, then gently touching the cold ground. It had been snowing for 10 hours and the mantle of snow had already covered everything. It was Christmas` night. The trees and houses were beautifully decorated. The smell of delicious food could have been felt from everywhere. Everybody was with their families, spending Christmas, excepting for me. I was in hospital, injured. In fact, not as injured as my lover who was in a coma. We were the unhappy victims of some armed street band that attacked us. The band did not attack us without any particular reason, though. It was somehow my fault because I beat the shit out of one of them because he had pissed me off about two weeks ago. Two of my ribs were broken and my left arm was shot. The pain was unbearable but it was not that bad after all, considering that Matt had been shot in his left leg and almost in the heart. "Those fags. Fuck them..". I kinda felt guilty. I knew it was my fault and I should have been the one in coma, not Matt. I cursed, then stood up from the bed. I knew the nurses would come back and make a fuss over me not being in bed resting, but I did not actually care. The only thing I wanted was to see my lover. I crept out of the room and headed towards the front desk. The lady from the desk told me that Matt was at intensive care and I was not allowed to visit him yet. "Fuck" I whispered. I turned my way towards my room when I bumped into the doctor who was taking care of Matt.

"I`m sorry." I apologized after bumping into him. "Please, tell me, how is Matt feeling?"

"His state is very fragile right now. I am not sure if he is going to wake up and if he does, he might not be able to move, speak, see or remember anything according to the fact that many of his nerves were damaged." He said.

I felt like the entire world was crashing around me. I knew it was my fault, but I couldn`t do anything. I would have done anything to switch places with Matt and yet, I couldn`t. Hot liquid sprang in the corner of my eyes. I tried to stop the tears but I couldn`t. It just..felt so wrong to be the one at fault. It hurt so damn much not to be able to save the life of the one you loved.

Two weeks after, there was no change in Matt`s state. I had returned home one week before, but kept visiting him every day. He looked so pale and..anyhow but alright. I was spending almost the entire day in hospital, staying by his side. I wanted him to know that he was not alone so I kept holding his hand all the time.

The next day I went to a church. I was not the best Christian ever, but I just felt like doing it. I knew God would never forgive me for being a fag, for killing people, for not actually believing in Him, but I just hoped that He would help Matt a bit. I stared at the nicely painted walls. I was not used to going to Churches. "So..here I go, I guess. God, I know I`m not the best person ever, but please, help Matt. He`s not at fault. I am. If it wasn`t me, he would have been alright now. Please.."

After a few more days, I was relieved to hear from one of the doctors that Matt had woken up. I was so happy that I couldn`t even breathe normally. I rushed the hospital`s halls and finally arrived. Room 451. I took a deep breath and opened the door. Matt was lying in the bed, his eyes focused on me.

"Hey.." I silently said, small tears forming in the corner of my eyes and a big smile spread on my face.

"Hey." He replied.

I was so happy. He was alright. He was there. Alive and healthy. I couldn`t have asked for more. I took a few steps forward and, as I stood near his bed, felt the need to hug him. And so I did. I hugged him as I hadn`t done in some time.

"Who are you?" he asked, confusion in his eyes.

"What the fuck, Matt? It`s me, Mello." I said, the smile dropping off of my face immediately.

"I..I don`t know who you are." He replied.

Days felt like years. Matt hadn`t still remembered anything. He couldn`t remember who I was, where he lived, what place I was taking in his life and the biggest problem was that he couldn`t remember who he was.

The doctors let him leave the hospital, but told me to take good care of him. And so I was planning to do. It hurt so damn much to see that he couldn`t remember anything, but I was planning to bring his memories back, or at least, to build new memories with him. "But what if his feelings would not be the same? What if at some point he`ll hate me? What if.." I wondered. "No, it`s going to be fuckin` alright."