Week one.
"Lucky."
Lucky.
If Pouncival had a dollar for every time he heard that word, he could buy a new car.
He was released from the hospital after a few days and went to stay with his mother. He hadn't completely recovered, so she was taking care of him. Meanwhile, everyone kept telling him how lucky he was to be alive and to have gotten out of the hospital so fast.
"You're lucky you got out without any broken bones," one cat told him.
"You're lucky it was only a concussion," said another.
One clueless nurse even commented, "You're lucky they hit the passenger's side."
Well, Pouncival didn't feel very lucky. He would have given anything for the drunk driver of the other car to have hit the driver's side. "Why didn't I go home another way?" he asked. "Why didn't I hesitate at the stoplight? How did I not see them coming?"
His mother took his paw. "It was an accident, Pouncival. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Bullshit," he snapped. "I was driving. I should have done something." Tears sprung into his eyes. "I should be the one in the fucking coma."
He ran to his old room and slammed the door.
To be fair, his old bedroom was not the best sanctuary from thinking about his tomfriend. They were best friends, growing up. They used to stay up all night in that room, playing video games and talking about queen. Talking about queens, that is, until they came out to each other, at the same time, also in that room. They shared their first kiss in that room. They actually lost their virginity to each other in that room (but don't tell Jellylorum).
Or, maybe, the room wasn't the problem. Maybe Pouncival's mind was consumed by Tumblebrutus, everywhere he went.
He quit his job. He couldn't go back there. He couldn't drive that route. He couldn't drive in general. Just the thought of getting back behind the wheel sent Pouncival into a full-fledged panic attack.
Pouncival spent approximately two minutes lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Then, he burst back out and announced, "I'm going back to the hospital."
He was spending every possible waking moment at the hospital.
Jellylorum sighed, "Pouncie, you need to rest, and I can't always be driving you back and forth."
"I'll call a cab."
"You're back."
Pouncival looked towards the source of the voice.
If there was one good thing in this whole situation, it was the eye-candy that was Dr. Felixtel.
Pouncival hated himself for even thinking that.
But then he smiled, because he knew Tumblebrutus would be thinking it too, and they would have a good laugh about it.
That is, when Tumblebrutus woke up.
If Tumblebrutus woke up.
When Tumblebrutus wakes up, Pouncival screamed in his head. Preparing for the worst would drive him insane.
Aaand he was miserable, again.
Dr. Felixtel saw the entire struggle play out on Pouncival's face, and he looked sympathetically at the young tom. "Don't worry about him. We're doing everything we possibly can to make sure he heals."
"Easier said than done," Pouncival said, his voice hoarse and barely a whisper.
"I know." Dr. Felixtel put his paw on Pouncival's shoulder, then walked around the foot of the bed and sat down on the opposite side of his patient.
"What would you do," Pouncival asked, "if it was your queenfriend?"
"Go find a tomfriend."
Pouncival raised his eyebrow.
"I- I'm gay," the doctor stammered.
Of course, you are.
Dr. Felixtel sighed. "I'm sorry. Now is probably not the time to make jokes. I just wish I could put your mind at ease."
The room fell deadly quiet, and Pouncival became hyper-aware of the roaring of the air conditioning and the rhythmic beating of the heart monitor.
The beeping wasn't nearly as annoying, coming from Tumblebrutus' monitor.
The tears had stopped falling, days ago. Pouncival had nothing more to give. His emotions didn't show. Instead, they burned him alive from the inside.
Fear.
Anger.
Hatred.
Pouncival never imagined he could ever hate a dead cat as much as he hated the driver of the other car. Dead on impact. Killed instantly. Didn't feel any pain. For Pouncival and Tumblebrutus, however, all that was left was pain.
Pouncival hoped that driver burned in hell for the rest of eternity.
"If you would rather be alone," Dr. Felixtel began gently, "I can always-"
"No." Pouncival took a deep breath. "I don't want to be alone."
"Jenny?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Did he…does he…like living with me?"
Jennyanydots smiled sweetly at her son's tomfriend. She answered, "Yes."
Pouncival sighed. Ever since the accident, Jennyanydots, who loved to talk and gossip and instruct and generally have sound coming out of her mouth at all times, had become a cat of few words.
He looked across the room at Tumblebrutus' little sister, Electra. Since the accident, that playful little goofball had become angry. All the time, she was angry.
Pouncival glanced at Skimbleshanks, who stood next to Jenny. Since the accident, the tom who loved to travel and who couldn't stay still rarely left his son's hospital room.
And Pouncival, the tom who always smiled, hadn't smiled in days.
Pouncival reached down and took Tumblebrutus limp paw. His cuts and bruises were healing. He was beginning to look like the beautiful tom Pouncival fell in love. It gave Pouncival hope, and the one thing Pouncival needed was hope.
Pouncival and Tumblebrutus were dorky kits. They were always getting themselves into trouble. No one ever knew what they were going to do next. The only thing anyone could predict was that they would be together. They did everything together, and they never wanted that to end.
Every moment Pouncival stayed away from the hospital felt wrong. He needed to be with Tumblebrutus. When they were separate, he was not whole. After that first week, he did not leave. He went home to shower, and sometimes to eat non-hospital food. He barely spoke to any of his friends. Hell, he barely even spoke to his family. He didn't dare go back to his apartment. The hospital was his life. The doctors and nurses were his friends. He wasted his days sitting quietly next to his comatose tomfriend, and the days didn't seem wasted to him.