He raised a pipe into the air.
"Time to wake up, da?" It smashed into my skull and I knew nothing more.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

The first thing I felt while I was swimming in the black abyss was a warm breeze on my cheek. It wasn't too cold, but it wasn't too hot either. It felt like something you would get on a lightly windy day in the late summer. The second thing I felt was the rest of my body. It was covered in a light sheet and laid gently around me. My arms were resting above the sheet, palm up for one hand and the other, palm down. For the one facing down, it was encased in something warm and feeling. It was a comfort.
The next thing I realized was that someone was talking to me. I knew the voice. I knew it by heart, and I wanted to respond. I felt something down my throat. I began to panic. My body began shaking violently and I started to choke.
The voice called for help and I could then hear a loud, erratic beeping sound. More hands grabbed me and my eyes flew open to a plan white room, but I was surrounded by faces I didn't know. Panic clung to me. I tried to scream for help but it was cut off as the object shoved down my throat began to retreat.
I screamed once it was out. Then the blackness took me again.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

It was talking to me again, begging me for something. What was it saying? I didn't care anymore. I didn't deserve to live. I deserved to die.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

I began to make out words now. They were strange and made no sense to me, but they were comforting.

"...burgers...epic...hero...sorry..."

A few times later I could hear a whole sentence.

"But you already know how I learned not to feed French fries to lions don't you?"

Soon I was able to hear a whole story. I began to wish that I could wake up again so I could speak with the person who sat with me every day. But I knew it would hurt. This man sounded like him. But he was dead.

Some days when the voice was silent or laced with tears, it would tell me to come back, tell me that I was loved and people missed me.
'Lies.' I thought because I knew the only person who ever cared was dead. And he didn't even care about me anymore. So why should I not be dead too?

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

I felt him touch my hand today. It was a silent day. The voice begged me to wake up or do something. I squeezed the hand. They cried.

I felt the tears stain my shirt as he hugged me. I felt their warm breath on my chest as they gasped for air like they were dying. They told me words of congratulations. They praised me for the simple gesture. They thanked me for the movement.

They stayed longer that day.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

It was a bright day when I finally opened my eyes. The sky was a beautiful shade blue, and the birds were singing. I heard a gasp and looked towards my arm. I felt fear. I began crying and trying to get my hand away but he would not release my hand. Garbled and slurred words fell from my mouth like a waterfall. Those big blue eyes covered by thin wire framed glasses, that golden blonde hair with the one rebellious strand. The tan skin, lightened to a tone of winter. That face.

I screamed.

He cried.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

It had been a dream, they said. Some sort of coma dream. A world I had landed myself in after I had pushed Alfred out of the way of the oncoming truck. The dream had just been in place as preparation for the worst.

I should be dead, they said. I had broken so many of the bones in my body, my lung had been punctured, my skull fractured, cracked, so much blood washed into the street. I should be dead.
But I'm not.

Alfred had sat by my side every day for the past year that I had been away, locked in my mind. He read me books, told me stories, and just talked. He told me everything, and I had listened (not like I had much of a choice). And when he couldn't sit by my side, he had someone else. He had his mother, his brother, Elizabeta, Francis (though Matthew was always with him when he came).

After they had examined me and left us alone, Alfred hugged me, and then he cried. He told me everything he had felt, everything he had wished, everything he had prayed, and how when I opened my eyes and was afraid of him, how devastated and heartbroken he was. He thought he had lost me again. He thought his last words to me had been so hateful. He hadn't been able to forgive himself.

I called him a fool.

He called me a hero.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

The night I came home from the hospital Alfred came with me.
He had told me that he had sold his apartment to care for mine and pay the rent. He had gotten another job to pay for it and then another to help with the hospital bill. I had a roommate now.

We sat on the couch like we always did, watching telly as our cats chased each other around.

Alfred eventually fell asleep with his head on my lap as we watched TV. I sighed and let my eyes wander around the flat, thinking of everything that had happened and that was going to happen now. I had missed a year. A whole year. My body was still weak and my mind was still muddled, but I had missed a whole year. My hands traveled down to Alfred's head and my fingers began to thread their way through his hair. He let out a soft hum and he smiled. I sighed and let my head rest on my couch. My eyes traveled around my flat. Not much had changed here besides Alfred's objects of possession now housed here as well.

My eyes fell on the window I use to sit and stare out of at the people below.
I smiled and chuckled.

It was open.

Fin

AN: We have now reached the end of our tale, and I thank you all for reading ^^

There might be another epilogue, to go after this epilogue, or a piece of this told in Alfred's point of view, but I'm not sure yet (most likely I will do a piece told by Alfred). I do hope you all enjoyed and again, thank you for reading ^^