Henry

The night Chandler woke up was all a blur. I'd never felt so many feelings at once. The second I was sure his hand squeezed mine back, reciprocating any of my efforts for the first time, I was quick to slam my hand down on the red "alert" button on the side of his bed.

My hands were shaking wildly as only about ten seconds, that happened to feel like ten hours, went by before a nurse hurried into the room with an anxious expression.

I was only able to get a few words out in my manic state, "H-he..." I had to pause in an attempt to try and ease my quickly drying throat, "he squeezed back."

Before I knew it, she was rushing to Chan's side, checking vitals on the various monitors he was hooked up. The middle-aged woman then snatched the pager hooked onto a white sash-like belt fastened around her waist and muttered a code into it.

Not long had passed until the room was bursting with too much noise and commotion for me to keep up with. Doctors swarmed in and out of the room, nurses bustling around quickly and speaking to each other.

My ears seemed to stop working. My mind was fuzzy, and my mouth seemed to be filled with cotton, drying it out and leaving me unable to speak.

I couldn't move, even as Mrs. Lee came bursting into the room followed by her shaken husband trying to catch up with her. She looked at Chandler first, trying to see what was going on. Tears were already trekking down her face as she glanced over at me, her expression confused and questioning.

She took quick, rushed steps toward me and knelt down in front of my legs, grasping my balled fists into her small, cold hands.

"Henry," her voice was broken and anxiety was so thick in it that she seemed to choke slightly with her words, "what's going on? Is he okay?"

I didn't know how to respond. How could I? All I knew is that he squeezed back. That was a good thing, right?

Then why was this nagging fear so heavy in my gut, weighing me down every time I tried to breathe?

It felt too good to be true.

I shook my head slightly, looking at her desperate eyes with my own wide ones for the first time since she and Chandler's father had come running into the room, "I don't know..." my voice was quiet, my throat aching, "I just know I felt him squeeze my hand, I know I felt it- I swear I did!"

Suddenly, the dam behind my eyelids broke, a flood of tears rushing down my cheeks and dripping past my neck until they were absorbed into the collar of my sweater.

I suddenly felt so horrible. What if I was imagining it? What if he didn't actually squeeze back, and I just thought I felt something?

What if I just handed this man's parents the hope that their son was coming back to us when really, he wasn't?

She was quick to grasp my face with her hands and pull me into a tight hug. My shoulders shook as I couldn't hold back any longer. I tried to stay strong every day for the past eight and a half weeks. I tried my best to not shed any more tears; to not make anybody feel any more pain than they already did.

I just couldn't take it anymore.

Her small arms wrapped around my shoulders tightly, her maternal hands soothing up and down my back as if trying to console an upset child.

"Hey," her voice was softer than it had been before, seeing my fragile state, her maternal instincts helping her calm down and focus on comforting me instead, "Listen to me, I believe you. Try and stay calm." She nodded her head over to her husband standing a few feet behind the crowd of nurses and doctors surrounding the seemingly sleeping, angelic boy.

I had just looked down, closing my eyes to try and stop more tears from falling when I'd heard it; a little grunt. Then, it was followed by another, louder one.

Mrs. Lee let out a sob, hands moving to cover her mouth as her husband was quick to embrace her, his head falling onto her shoulder as they couldn't believe the sight unraveling in front of us.

Chandler was waking up.

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I hadn't imagined it; it was real. This was really happening.

I remember not being able to fully process what was going on. My hands moved to cover my face in disbelief as his eyes opened just barely for the first time in over a month. From where I was sat on the opposite side of the room, it was too busy to be able to see everything.

I heard Dr. Perez ordering medical staff around and saw as he interacted with Chan, but my ears couldn't decipher his words from where I was.

Mr. and Mrs. Lee had hurried over to him after the medical personnel backed up a bit, giving them the go-ahead to come over and see him. I heard as they warned them to be careful and understanding with him, as he'd just gained consciousness and was bound to be confused by what exactly was occurring.

They shed tears, embraced him, and spoke to him. I wasn't sure at first if he knew what was going on. From looking at him, his face seemed slightly blank and very overwhelmed. I stayed where I was sat across the room and watched him through blurry, tear-filled eyes and my lips quivered uncontrollably.

The last thing I wanted to do was intrude. I could only imagine how his parents felt, finally seeing their son's eyes open, alert, and staring at them once again.

I also didn't want to make him even more anxious. I could barely take in what was happening myself.

It was when his blank face morphed into one of full recognition, remembrance, and disbelief that his tears started to fall. His eyes squeezed shut as his parents enveloped him further, holding him like they never wanted to let go ever again.

I watched as labored breaths escaped his lips as he cried into the comforting arms of his parents.

It was only when they pulled away slightly that his teary eyes began to wander around the room. They examined the medical staff bustling around the room, observing him and the various screens around the room. Then, they moved to the wall I was sat against before he blinked a couple of times and wiped his eyes gently. When he opened them back up, he was staring at me directly.

It was like time stopped. His eyes pausing their movement, simply scanning me. My eyes ceased to obey my wishes, continuing to produce their endless flood of tears.

His hand then lifted, barely, off of the bed. He looked weak and frail, and my heart skipped a beat when he raised his eyebrows slightly in a silent plea. I looked to his parents before moving to stand, seeing them walking toward Dr. Perez who was holding various sheets of paper. Mrs. Lee seemed to notice our little interaction, looking from Chandler to me, and nodding her head toward him, encouraging me to go on.

I suddenly felt like such an idiot. Why had I just been sitting there uselessly crying, like a useless little pansy? I just couldn't believe that it was all actually happening.

I'd gone over to him, and seen what he looked like up close. He looked the same as he always had, but some things were slightly different. His hair was longer than he ever had let it grow, scruffy little fibers curling at his ears and framing his head- unsurprisingly, perfectly. His skin had taken a slightly paler tone than usual. It made sense, him obviously not seeing the light of day in so long. It made my heart ache in my chest.

His voice was rougher than ever when he finally spoke. I felt my eyes widen. How was he able to talk right now? I knew what I'd seen in movies, and that was patients waking up from comas not knowing how to do anything but breathe on their own- if that.

Realistically, everyone is different. Depending on the accident and the way it occurred, patients don't always come out the same; if they even come out at all.

After I was sure he drank enough water to somewhat soothe his throat, I let myself give into the pull I so desperately was trying to resist.

I didn't care about the embarrassment anymore. I didn't care that he would be inwardly smirking at me knowingly while observing my tear-stained face, red eyes, puffy cheeks, and rosy nose. I didn't care that he would surely tease me about it later.

I decided I would let him tease me about anything and everything for the rest of our lives as long as it meant he was still around.

Also, I would tease him back about the tears in his own eyes that he tried to hold back but failed horribly. Two could always play at his games, and that's exactly how he liked it.

As my head was nestled lightly in the crook of his neck, I listened to his soft breathing. I'd been waiting so damn long for that moment.

My eyes fell closed against my will, and suddenly the lack of sleep that I'd somehow endured over the long weeks seemed to catch up to me. My lids felt heavy, and my breathing evened out, leaving me the most calm I ever had before.

I didn't want to admit that the euphoria flowing through me was most definitely due to the man holding me in his arms.

I ignored the pain in my lower stomach due to the rail of the hospital bed digging into me there, the award angle I was bent at suddenly seeming humorous. I snickered quietly to myself as I thought, whoever saw this scene in front of them probably thought I looked ridiculous; a young man clinging desperately onto another like a baby koala and its mother.

After another minute or so, after I pathetically whimpered for Chan to never leave me again like this, and he promised not to, a nurse came over to check on him. I untangled myself from his warmth and scowled slightly as the cold air of the room bit at my skin.

As the nurse asked him a few different questions, I zoned out slightly, catching some things that Mr. Kim was telling Mr. and Mrs. Lee.

"He got really lucky," he started, a gentle smile on his lips as he used his hands to enunciate his words, "If he would've hit his head even a fraction of an inch to the left of where the initial blow was, he would be immobile as we speak. He would most likely not be able to form solid phrases, as well." Dr. Perez summarized the anatomy of the human brain and how the damage done from the accident could've been much, much worse. If he'd hit his head on the window any harder, and any closer to the frontal lobe, things would've been much more serious.

My breath caught in my throat. I looked down at my sneakers as I let the words sink in. How did he get so lucky? What if he would've been hit his head just a little harder? What if he had been paralyzed; stuck in a motionless state for the rest of his life?

As I was lost in my thoughts, I felt Chandler grab my fingers lightly, just a touch. I glanced at him, quickly blinking away the sorrow that I knew was stained across my face as clear as black paint to a fresh canvas.

I smiled as much as I could manage, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, I actually felt it reach my eyes.

I felt happiness again.

Sure, there was much more to worry about and figure out, but Chan was awake, and he was looking at me with those helplessly dreamy almond eyes. Even in his current debauched state, he was so flawless to me.

I looked around us. His parents were discussing matters with medical staff, the constant buzz of chatter floating around the room. It offered a sort of comfort that meant things were moving forward. The voices were no longer panicked, and it wasn't crowded anymore. Nurses made their way out of the room, leaving just a couple of them remaining along with Dr. Perez.

I looked back down at the man on the pristine white bed, covered in a light blue duvet. He was staring back up at me, just watching me take in what was going on absentmindedly. It felt like he was in his own head, there but not really.

"You feeling okay?" I questioned quietly. I didn't know what I expected him to say, but I hoped he would be honest with me.

Scared? Nervous? Confused?

I didn't know what his answer would be, but I just wanted him to know he wasn't alone- that no matter what he felt, I was right there with him.

He blinked up at me mischievously, his lips quirking up into the classic Chandler Lee smirk that never failed to send shameful chills down my spine. Despite how awful he must have felt inside and out, he refused to let it show as he mustered the strength to grunt out a short response that settled deep in my bones, "Better than okay."

I rolled my eyes at his cheesy remark, shaking my head as I was unable to contain the smile of my own that blossoming across my lips. What I didn't tell him at that moment was that I felt the same. Then again, he probably knew it already. He could read me like an open book.

What I did tell him, though, was that for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I knew for certain that everything was going to be just fine.