AN- Sorry if anyone has even been waiting for this to update. School has started up again, and so I'm either busy doing schoolwork, regular work, or getting distracted with some college event. Also, to a friend (you know who you are): I will start working on your one-shot ASAP. I don't know why, I'm just not getting what I want with it. But on with the story here!
Guess who showed his fuckin' face here today? That dickhead who hit you came here today. He had the goddamn nerve to bring his damn self in here like nothing was wrong. Just waltzed right in with a goddamn bouquet of flowers- like that'll make you wake right up. Stupid faggot.
You oughta be proud of me, you bastard. I was polite to him- surprise, I didn't kill him. Happy?
Fine, fine- ok. I know- I'm a shit liar. I was a little rude to him. But you have to give me credit! Cut me some fucking slack! The guy hit you- he's the reason you're here, still unconscious with tubes running in you everywhere when you should be safe at home right now, reading or driving me fuckin' crazy. You're lucky I didn't just pounce on him the moment he walked in here!
Whatever. I don't care, anyways.
Andy, when will you ever wake up? If you even do.
I have to admit something. I lied. Not about the guy- cross my heart, or whatever you stupid people say. I didn't kill him. I didn't even hurt him. In fact, I could tell he actually was sorry; and he should be too. How dare he hurt you.
But that's not it. I'm sorry I called you selfish. It's not your fault that you got hit.
I'm just really mad at myself, though you'd tell me there's no reason for it.
How can I explain this to you?
I know I'm smaller than you. I know you have to reach things for me and that my arms aren't big enough to hold you. That doesn't mean that I don't spend every fucking moment wishing I could. Sometimes, when I get angry and yell at you and you don't know why- remember that? You always smile and laugh it off. I'm glad you know I'm not really angry at you- because I sometimes just get so frustrated, that you seem to be able to do all these things for me and I can't seem to do anything back.
When I got that call, I was so mad. I was angry that I hadn't been there with you, to say something, to stop it. To protect you.
Goddamnit- when I got that fucking call, I thought of the first time I saw you, you know, when you told me you were glad we would be friends? Yes. I saw your face, when you were still really young. Your stupid, child-like, innocent, fucking adorable face. And I saw that face dead.
Not as pleasant as I'd thought it would be back then. Now it just shakes me up in all kinds of wrong. I know, I know. I couldn't have known. I get it. I can't help how I fuckin' feel, Andy. Don't try to make me feel any different.
The nurse told me that your vitals are regular. Good, right? You're not gonna just fuckin' drop dead one day are you? That would be a shit move. I'd hate you forever if you did. Yeah- I really fucking would. I'd make your epitaph really dumb too. Then we'd all have a laugh.
What? What was that?
Did your hand just move? I thought I felt it.
Or maybe I'm just going batshit crazy. You realize that, right? You are making me go crazy.
The nurses have given up trying to make me go anywhere, Andy. I think they finally got it. Do you understand, Andy, that I can't leave you? Not when you're like this. I really tried to go home that Thursday night. I tried. I couldn't sleep.
Andy, I couldn't even fucking sleep on the chair next to you. I-
Fuck, nevermind. If you can hear me, you'll know anyways. I don't have to say a fucking word, and so I won't. You can't make me do a thing.
Your mom came again, of course. She asked one too many questions. I was surprised- usually it's Maggie who asks all the questions and is nosy. Too nosy. I know you love them, Andy, but I honestly have no idea how you handle all these women fussing over you. I certainly couldn't handle that sort of shit. I can't even handle an hour or two of it.
Is that why everything you do is so careful and neat?
I bet it is, you stupid shit. That's why you're so goddamn, oh, what's that word? Meticulous. Oh, you're proud of me, are you? I can be smart when I want to be, dumbass. I'm not all as uneducated and stupid as you think.
I know, I know. You think I am so special. Why do you always say stuff like that to me? It makes my skin crawl, and I don't like it. You know I don't like it. You can't make me like it, no matter how much you say it to me. You can't make me do a thing, Andy Barclay.
I wish I could fuckin' wake you up. I actually kind of miss you. Fuck you.