Gah, I seriously can't stop writing for this one, so for now I'm not going to promise you or tell you how many chapters are left. For now, you're left to guess (cuz I sure as hell am lol)

Enjoy and R&R

I impatiently sit here in the "waiting room" once more after me and Collins' quick coffee break (I refused to stay more than 25 minutes just in case Mark's doctor came out with some news). As I sit here, my imagination was going wild as it always did. So instead of me sitting in a waiting room, in my mind I was sitting in what felt like a cemetery of lives and hearts. It's where the remains of people that are still living are buried.

If I'm not careful, and if Mark doesn't make it...I'm afraid a piece of my heart will be left here.

See how poetic I can be?

And no, I don't care how corny that sounded. This type of situation changes you...actually; any situation that consists of a loved one being hurt can change you. Take me for example.

Collins is snoring softly beside me, though I don't know how he can sleep...well, I kind of can, since the coffee that was supposed to keep us up sucked ass and he didn't see Mark bleeding to death on the floor in front of him earlier today.

So he luckily gets to sleep tonight.

I unfortunately do not.

So I just play with the empty coffee cup I still have in my hands, missing my guitar and wishing more than ever for everything to rewind so I could stop all of this from happening. Stop him from going out earlier today or hell, even go with him. But sadly there was no man suddenly coming up to me and asking if I wanted to back in time; no portals or magic potions either. No scientist and an old car waiting to go "back to the future" with me. There wasn't even a magical remote I could use. Nothing.

Just me and the people in the waiting room, waiting for a doctor to come and make or break our lives to pieces.

Every time a doctor came around, I found myself sitting upright and praying it was for Mark. But every time it was for some other desperate family, wondering if their loved one was alright. Tonight apparently was a lucky night, because many people were leaving with smiles on their faces. But there were the rare few...

"Family of Mark Cohen?"

I froze. Was my sleep-deprived mind tricking me? I did I just hear a doctor calling out for the family of Mark Cohen? I sat up straighter and looked around. Yep, there was a doctor, with a small board in hand and looking around the room.

"Family of Mark Cohen?" he asked again, frowning.

I quickly plucked up the courage, and I found myself saying crying desperately, "Over here!" before my brain could connect with my body.

The doctor sighed and made his way over to me. I quickly turned around and shook Collins awake, who awoke with a jolt and a confused look on his face. I indicated towards the doctor, and his eyes instantly widened and he fought his way to his feet.

"Hello..." the doctor said, holding his hand out to shake.

"Tom Collins. And this is Roger Davis." Collins answered quickly, taking the doctor's hand. Thank God for Collins. He must've somehow known that my body was shaking so horribly that there was no way I could've grasped his hand, let alone introduce myself.

"Hello." The doctor said politely to me before returning to talk to Collins, the obvious talker of the two of us at the moment.

"Okay, so about Mr. Cohen—"

"Yes?" I asked eagerly. I couldn't help myself...I've been clueless about this whole thing for so long and I couldn't do it anymore. I just had to know.

The doctor coughed uncomfortably before continuing, "Well, I have both bad news and good news." The hope within me that he'd be alright plummeted. I didn't like the sound of this 'bad news'. I felt myself practically deflate at his words. "The good news is: he's in stable condition. Bad news is, we don't know how long we can keep him that way. You see, he's breathing through a machine as of now but it's very hard for him to breathe period. When you brought him here, Mr. Cohen's lung was very close to collapsing—"

"So his lung was punctured?" Collins interrupted his eyes wide. He looked as if someone just told him that it was his last day on earth.

"Unfortunately yes." The doctor said with a small sigh. It was with these words that I felt as if I would collapse. A punctured lung...I'm no doctor, but I know that a punctured lung wasn't good. I know that this could mean very bad things for my best friend.

"So, there's around 60/40 chance that he'll survive this thing, but please know that that's good odds for someone with his case." The doctor said confidently.

But all my mind processed was the 60%.

"60%? 60? You're telling me that there's a 60% chance my brother could die?" I cried helplessly, staring in shock at the doctor. I barely noticed the look Collins was giving me a look for calling Mark my brother. But hey, why should I lie? He is my brother...not by blood but by soul.

"Yes, Mr. Davis. There's 60% chance of death...but again this is good odds for someone—"

"I know, I know. But that my brother isn't just some random person with a medical case. This guy is so important to me and to so many other people Doc. Plus, did you even take into account that he's not the healthiest guy in the world? God, with his size I wouldn't be shocked that he has anorexia. Or how about the fact that he had the poorest circulation in the world! Or at least in the New York area! Did you take any of that into account?" I asked worriedly, knowing that I might be going too far and that I was losing it. Collins went to grab my shoulder, but I quickly pushed it away. I didn't want to be weak...I had to be strong, simple as that.

"Relax Mr. Davis. Yes, we have taken all of that into account. He's a little malnourished I'll admit, and he does have very poor circulation. But we have it all under control sir. You just relax with your friend, and I'll come and tell you if there are any changes." The doctor sighed, placing a bony hand on my shoulder.

I instantly calmed down; despite the fact that it was one of the hardest things I had to do. I didn't want to thrown out of the hospital, nor did I want to get towed away to the mental ward. I didn't even want to be drugged at that moment, even though the urge for hit was getting worse by the hour. I just wanted to be told how Mark was. I wanted to hear that he was okay.

The doctor left then, but I didn't really notice. Instead I fell into one of the waiting room's many chairs with a sigh and put my head in my hands. I couldn't do this...

And I thought watching Angel die before us was hard...

I guess I said that out loud, because before I knew it Collins was looking at me with an almost angry look.

"Mark isn't dying Rog...the doctor just told us he was in stable condition." Collins whispered, his voice not matching the hard, angry look he was giving me. His voice was almost gentle.

That's the excuse I'm using as for why I suddenly snapped at him. He was being too gentle.

That and he only heard what he wanted to hear. That Mark was okay...

Sadly, I'm the type of guy who gives you truth when you want lies.

"Yes, but did you also hear with your amazing hearing that they have no idea how long they can keep him that way? That and uh, I don't know, he has a fucking punctured lung!"

"Roger Malcolm Davis, don't you dare snap at me! You think you're the only one going through hell here?" Collins asked in a deadly voice, his eyes staring me down.

That sure as hell put me in my place.

I instantly looked away and groaned. I didn't want to snap at him or hurt him anymore then he already was. I mean, he already lost a loverin this hell called a hospital. He didn't need me snapping at him when he was already plagued with the fact that he might just lose one of his best friends today in the place he lost the love of his life.

"Look Davis, I know how hard this is for you. I know how hard it is to lose someone important—" here his voice choked up, "but you can't start pushing away and snapping at the people who are going through the exact same thing. Mark means a lot to all of us. He might mean a whole lot to you, but please remember you're not the only one who knew—knows him." Collins whispered, staring into space.

I just answered with a sigh, and gave him a one-armed hug. Now I felt supremely guilty, and I've never been good with the whole apologizing thing. So the—hopefully comforting—hug would have to do for now.

As for me, yet again I'm waiting in the dark for information about my hurting best friend.

Woop-de-fucking-do