Sorry I'm updating so slowly. I'm trying to figure out if I should start a part two to this and *gasp* actually make a new story out of it. Or should I keep going with this one? So, go onto chapter 100 or end at like 60 and start a part two. You chose. And let's throw in what you want to see next chapter. Nathan, Doctorman, Jackson… ect..

Chapter Fifty Two: Staying Awake

Jory looked out the window longingly. Somehow, being forced to be inside made her suddenly want to be outside. She erased the thought from her mind though as her eyes averted back to Ian.

"Ian," she breathes his name like a swear. Though her feelings for her were indifferent at first, she slowly succumbed to the love-struck feeling that he had been engulfed by. Everything he didn't seem to be was exactly what he was. Innocent. Soft.

Now here he was. Broken in a bed again. Except this time, the doctors weren't sure he was going to walk away from this one. He might stay in a bed in till his parents decide to pull the plug. The last time she would ever see him would be here. Sleeping with an ashen face that's so still he might as well be dead.

Her own parents had come only a few hours ago but her steady silence had driven them away. The only one left was the teenager who had found Ian. Jacoby.

He was slumped over on a metal chair in the corner of the room. Long hair obscuring his features and a large jacket, which served as a blanket, covering up his slim body. Though she had told him he should leave, he refused to listen.

"He's my friend too," he had told her, rubbing away at his tired gray eyes. He had the same look as Ian, though it was wiser. Like he had accepted that he wouldn't amount to anything.

He had fallen asleep unwillingly only ten minutes ago. Time. It was going by so slowly it almost hurt. It had only been 14 hours since she had heard that he had ODed on heroine.

"What are you thinking?" A rough voice made her look away from Ian.

"You should sleep. You look like you need it."

Jacoby shrugs. "I don't want to." He slides off the chair, jacket in his arms. He drapes it across her shoulders. "Why don't you try?"

His leather jacket smells like cigarettes and warm cologne but it's strangely comforting. Suddenly, the long hours she had stayed up, sick with worry, had come back to her with dizzying speed.

"Maybe for a little," she replies hesitantly. Her tongue is heavy and thick. Jory falls asleep cuddled in the scent of a stranger.