There's a pounding in your head. It feels like it's filled with molasses. Somewhere far off there is someone singing… Except you don't know this song. And it doesn't sound like it's in your head.
You want to open your eyes to see where it's coming from, but they are heavy and everything is fuzzy. Your whole body feels numb and splintery, you don't like that. You try and focus on the song. It's broken and quiet and unsteady, but soothing. Soon you find yourself falling asleep; falling into the darkness.
When you wake up everything is bright. You close your eyes tightly against the intrusion. When your eyes stop burning, you open them, still squinting against the harsh white glare. You're eyes are so sensitive to the light. You reach out your arm to grab your shades from the side table, but are met with a wall. You squint to your left to see a strange plastic piece on the side of the bed in the abnormally white room.
Since when was that there? You open your eyes completely despite the pain of it and scan the room. This isn't your room. There's a strange beeping sound coming from a machine on your right and your arm feels funny. You look down to see a needle in it, attached to a long tube. An IV? You put the pieces together and try to sit up, but your back is stiff and immovable. Your turn your head to the other side and see a familiar mess of straight black hair in the chair next to the bed.
You try to speak, but the words don't come out and you're left with your mouth open like a fish's. What happened? He's asleep in the chair like he's been there for hours. You look around the hospital room again and see a few posters with health tips, but no doctors. No one but John; not even Bro is here from what you can tell. You clear your throat which is dry and scratchy and try to speak again, this time managing a rasp.
"John?" it was pitiful and you curse at yourself, clearing your throat again. "John?" it was louder this time and you see the figure shift on the chair. You cough and repeat the words again. You don't want to be all alone in here. "John…" your voice cracks and sounds like gritty sandpaper, but it's loud enough to get John's attention.
His head turns and a familiar pair of deep blue depths are trained on you. They go wide and he practically throws himself from the chair, fumbling to put his glasses on. You want to laugh at how spastic he looks, but you refrain, knowing it would sound like nails on a chalkboard. When the glasses are balanced on his face and finally straight, he just looks at you with a mixture of awe and pity. You hate that look. It makes you want to get up and walk out. You don't want anyone to pity you.
"Dave! You're finally awake!" he sounds ecstatic and you wonder how long you were asleep. You wonder why you're in a hospital bed. You wonder why John is here. You can't deal with John being here.
"Why the 'finally'?" Have you been asleep that long? He looks at you, as if trying to see if you're joking.
"You've been unconscious for two days, Dave." You must look pretty shocked, because he gives you a look. "You don't remember what happened?"
"How am I supposed to know if I remember it if I might have forgotten it?" John smiled at that, but then the smile was gone, replaced by something more serious. He sat back down in the chair and scooted it closer. He reached out to you, lifting up the edge of the sheet and taking your hand in his.
You freeze; you can already feel your eyes going wide. He doesn't seem to notice your reaction, though, and just stares at your bony fingers clasped in his hands. His palms are so warm… You feel you fingers curling weakly around them. You can feel your heart pounding against the skin on your palms when he starts to speak. Your gaze immediately flickers to his eyes and everything is a little fuzzy, but you don't mind.
"I was trying to talk to you about what's going on with you... And you ran out…" he pauses for a second and gives your hand a squeeze, sending a flutter through your stomach. The pause prolongs and you look at him nervously.
"Then what? Why am I in the hospital?" all of this was confusing you. He just keeps staring at your hands and you want to make him look at you. You don't want him to be sad or nervous. His mouth opens to say something and nothing comes out, leaving him breathing lightly around his teeth. Finally he closes his mouth and trains his gaze on you. Your heart skips a beat.
"You were hit by a car… It came out of nowhere and you were hit and…" his voice trails off and you grip his hands. He looks down at them and slowly releases your hand, as if not knowing they were clasping yours. You frown, reaching your hand towards him. You want his hands back.
"What's wrong Dave?" you furrow your eyebrows, confused. "What was so bad that you couldn't tell me and had to run out?" and even though everything is fuzzy and distant, you know. Your hand reaches to his face and your fingertips run across his cheek. He starts and you drop them as he looks at you. You don't know what you're doing. You pull gently on his shirt and he gets the message and moves the chair closer.
"What is it? I won't tell anyone, I swear." There is black creeping around your vision and a headache forming but you still want to do this for some reason; no matter how stupid or absurd it will be. You move your left arm to him and shift, feeling a small jolt of pain at the movement. "Dave! Don't move! You'll hurt y-" he stops with wide eyes when you place a hand gently on either side of his face. "Dave?.." You pull his face closer gently, your head pounding.
Your faces are inches away now and his eyes are as wide as dinner plates. The deep blue pools are examining you closely, but you don't shrink away for some reason. The rest of the room is fuzzy and you can only see his face. He jerks his head in your grasp, but you pull him back. "Dave, what are you doing?" he sounds slightly frantic. Your noses bump in your unsteadiness but you turn his head slightly. He tries to pull away again but then your lips are meeting.
His skin is soft and tingly against yours. Your lips are slightly chapped and your mouth is still dry but his is soft and moist. Your heartbeat quickens. You're kissing John. You can't believe it. Everything hurts and reality is distant, but you're kissing him. He is making little noises against your lips that you take as encouragement as you press your mouths together. But then you feel his hands covering yours and he's pulling away again.
He throws your hands away and stumbles back, his eyes wide and gasping. He looks confused… You're confused too. You try to focus on what he's saying, but suddenly you get light headed. Your vision blacks out and you feel your arms fall limply to your sides.