Chapter 11

Hank sat beside his younger brother's small form in the hospital, holding his hand gently. This was all his fault. Don was in the hospital because of him, because of his stupidity. Oh, how could he have been so stupid?

What if Don didn't wake up? The doctor said he was in a coma, and that he might wake up, but what if he didn't? Hank slipped Don's small hand into his own, biting his lip in worry. If only he hadn't gone to that dumb party. If only he hadn't been so mad at Don! All the kid had done was try to help him, and Hank had thrown his little brother in a coma for it. So stupid…

The machines beeped steadily, to the rhythm of Hank's tears.

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One month. One month of spending every available moment by Don's side and praying that he would somehow wake up; two weeks of steady nightmares. He only did his schoolwork because they wouldn't let him see Don otherwise. His grades actually went up. How couldn't they? He somehow felt that if he was only better, if he only worked harder, sacrificed more, then somehow Don would be okay.

Sometimes he would talk to Don. Just tell him everything that had happened, what he'd learned in school; everything.

Sometimes he would finger the IV gently, even though he'd been scared to touch it before, as though if he put the slightest pressure on it, it would collapse. Now though, he could handle it, and the smooth feel beneath his fingers drove daggers into his heart.

And sometimes, he would just watch his baby brother; watch the rise and fall of his chest, watch as the doctors adjusted the IV or medicines; Don's limp form never resisting.

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Hank was sitting by Don's side; head resting on the bed beside his little brother. Don's gentle breathing was little consolation against the ever increasing potential of his never waking up. Hank felt a tear slip down his face. This was almost worse than Don being dead. Because he didn't know if Don would wake up, and the hope was as painful as it was needed. He had to believe that Don would wake up, but that belief was tearing him apart from the inside. Smoothing Don's hand in his own, he felt his body rack with sobs.

"H-Hank?" Hank's entire body stilled, as his eyes flew open. His breathing stopped, as the quiet voice he thought he'd never hear again whispered in his ears. He sat up.

"Don?" Don's beautiful blue eyes fixed lightly on his brother, a smile beginning to touch his lips. Hank felt his heart stop. He reached out, gently cupping Don's face in his hand before something inside him broke, and he grabbed Don as tight as he could, rocking him as close to his chest in desperation.

"I love you, Don." Hank managed through the tears. "I love you so much, you're everything to me, I should never have hurt you, please forgive me. I know I don't deserve it, and I understand if you hate me forever, but please. Please Don, if you can't forgive me at least understand, please. I love you."

"I love you too." Don whispered, though the words were blurred; he was still coming out of his coma. "'Course I forgive you. What did you do wrong?"

Hank clutched Don closer, the smaller boy's words cutting to his heart. Don didn't know. Didn't know how long he'd been in that coma. Probably didn't even remember how he'd gotten to be in that state. That was the only reason he could forgive Hank like that. He didn't know. In a moment of clarity, Hank hit the call button for a nurse; they would need to know Don had woken up.

"You don't understand." Hank choked out, as he rocked Don slightly. "You were in a coma for a month. A month, Don! And it's my fault."

Don's eyes widened. He was becoming more awake by the second, and was now more able to process what Hank was saying. And what he was saying… a month of his life gone? But… more than that… "Hank… you had to live through that? Through me being in a coma?"

Hank felt the dagger in his heart twist. How could Don be thinking of him? He wasn't important. Don was the one who had been in a coma, and it was all Hank's fault. Don should be feeling sorry for Don, not for Hank! "Don… what are you talking about? Everything bad that's happened happened to you, and it was my fault! You're not supposed to be feeling sorry for me!"

"But I was asleep. I don't remember it. You were the one who was hurt. You had to be awake for it." Don weakly reached up and gave Hank a limp hug. "You were the one who was really hurt."

"But you lost a month of your life!"

"And what have you been doing for that month?" So used to arguing, Don was able to carry on the debate, even as the doctors approached and Hank looked away guiltily, because he really hadn't been doing anything.

"See?" Don asked, as the doctors rushed in. "You lost a month too. But it hurt for you."

Hank felt tears glisten in his eyes as he was gently pulled away from his brother so the smaller boy could be tested with all kinds of medical equipment and doctors while another doctor began interrogating Hank on exactly what had happened on the moment of Don's awakening.

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- a while later

"Don?"

"Hey Hank."

Hank ran forward and pulled his brother into his arms. Then he pulled himself away, taking Don in. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. They say I'll be fine."

"I know that; they told me. I'm asking how you feel."

"Like Sleeping Beauty. I'm never going to take naps again."

Hank gave a small smile, then his face fell. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't try. And I guess you won't be doing stupid stuff like that anymore?"

"Yeah. Definitely not."

"Then I guess I succeeded."

"You're being really calm about this." Hank said worriedly.

"I think I'm in shock." Don admitted.

Hank wrapped him in his arms, letting Don's head rest on his older brother's chest. "It's okay. I'm here, and I'm not letting anyone hurt you. Not ever."