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It is too soon to visit, but here I am, standing in front of your door with the dessert my parents bought for me last night. I am a little afraid to step inside, so I remain loitering outside your room until someone touches my shoulder. It's your mom.
"Hello there, sweetie. Is there something you need?" Her eyes are puffy and red, but she still looks beautiful. Despite your injuries, she is radiating kindness, but I don't think she would wear that same smile if she knew the truth about me. My eyes water.
"Umm…I had some cake, and I…I thought you might like some," I fib. It's not like I didn't want her to have the treat, but my true intentions is to get closer to you. I need to see you up close to squash this distressed bubble that is occupying my stomach.
"Oh, how kind! I would love a piece, if you don't mind. Come inside," she gestures for me to enter, and I do with little hesitation. In fact, I almost sprint to your side. I hope she doesn't find my behavior suspicious.
You look worse than I thought. Your face is discolored with bruises. Your chest is bandaged while pillows prop up your leg. Yet, with all the things wrong with you, you still maintain your handsomeness. You are truly a prince. Unfortunately, you did not save a princess, but a peasant.
A throat clears behind me. I turn, trying to keep my hands steady because I don't want it to fall on the ground. Your mom is staring at me for some reason. I smile at her in nervousness, and she returns it as she steps in my direction.
She walks past me and sits beside you. With her fingertips, she brushes your hair away from your face and leans in to kiss your forehead. She looks back at me. "Do you know Sebastian? You seem to be quite worried about him." I am, but no, I don't know your son or anything about him except for the fact that he saved my life. But I don't tell her that. I couldn't, not yet.
"No. I just…heard from the nurses that he risked his life to save someone, and well," I stop, not having a valid explanation for my actions.
"Ah, I didn't realize that people are gossiping about him already. A little hero, isn't he?" She says, her voice shaking in both admiration and sadness. I can tell she is proud of you, but I know she would have rather you be in better conditions. I nod at her. "You know, he has always been this type of person. Trying to help people in the best way that he can. That is one of the reasons why he wants to be a lawyer. He wants justice for the people who need it."
By this time, she is dabbing at her eyes. I place the cake on the table, grabbing a tissue and handing it over to her. She thanks me. "I don't even know why I am reacting like this. You must think I am silly!" I shake my head. "The doctors said that he is in a coma, and that the chances of him waking up is high. It's just…I'm scared that he might not."
She is not my mother, but I give her a hug anyways. I think that if you were awake, you would be comforting her, so in your stead, I will do it. She seems a tad shocked, but she accepts my embrace.
"It's you, isn't it?" She quietly inquires. My limbs ice over. "You are the person he saved, right?" My limbs defrost, and I try to retreat from her, but her next words stop me. "I'm glad. It's seems that my son has good judgment." I pull away from her and give her a confused gaze. "I know my son would have saved anyone, but he rescued you, a good kid." I blush at her compliment.
"I am hardly a good person. Just look at him," I disagree as I hold back my tears.
"Honey, I'm sure that you are. Now, let's open that cake! I'm starving." She stands from her chair. "I'm going to go ask for some plates and forks. You wait here." She leaves the room, a little more upbeat than when I first saw her.
I take the vacant seat next to you. I reach out and carefully hold your hand. It's warm, and it is a strong reassurance to me because it means that you are still living. You mom is petrified that you won't wake up, but I don't want to think those kind of thoughts. The only thing that I am concerned about is not if you are going to wake from your comatose state, but when.
I can hear the creak of the door as it opens, so I let your hand go. I let you go, but I am not letting you go. Because after my apology, there is something else I want to say. Something that is going to sound cheesy and weird, but I am going to tell it to you anyhow. Something that is going to make my cheeks red.
Thank you, my princely hero.