Chandler

Memories of last night whirred through my head all morning since I'd 'woken' up.

It was still morning, the ticking clock on the wall reading half past nine. Dr. Perez was due to see me at ten to go over some things with me and my loved ones now that I was conscious.

I picked at the bagel on my lap, my appetite not as prominent as it was before. As I let my head loll back against the freshly fluffed pillow behind me, I heard the door squeal open quietly.

I looked to the entryway not bothering to turn my head, already hearing my parents' familiar chatter float in through the crack of the door before they'd even showed their faces. My mother stepped in first, carrying her purse and a coat, followed by my father who was still shrugging out of his jacket.

They looked much better than the night before. They still looked exhausted, but there was a glow in their complexion that was devoid before. Perhaps it was relief.

"Good morning, love." My mother set her things down on a chair in the corner of the room and practically threw herself at me. I laughed quietly and did my best to hug her back, as my limbs were still quite slow and felt weak.

"'Morning," I grinned up at her and my father as she pulled away to cup my face in her hands, and he ruffled the hair on top of my head.

It all felt oddly familiar- like if I hadn't been in that hospital bed and didn't have the niggling, sore ache in my bones, everything would seem normal.

Like the accident never happened.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when the door opened once again, but this time, clumsy steps sounded through the entryway along with a muffled curse. I couldn't contain my chuckle as Henry stumbled into the room, juggling a box of pastries in one hand and a carton of various coffee beverages in the other.

"I brought breakfast." He offered, a tiny smile spreading over his lips as he walked across the room to set the food down on a vacant countertop. He took a deep breath once his hands were finally free and turned around, gently eyeing me as I couldn't quite wipe the smile off of my face due to his never-changing ways. He's always been clumsy in a way that made you want to mess his hair up and squish his cheeks like a grandmother would do.

I raised my brows lightly, lips quirking up as I greeted him silently. He walked over to my bedside as he absentmindedly pulled his arm out of his coat, struggling with the other side. I shook my head slightly and raised my right arm just a bit, motioning to the arm that was entangled in the fabric of his jacket.

He nibbled on his bottom lip- something he always did when embarrassed or nervous- and turned just enough for me to grab at the fabric and keep it still while he yanked his arm free.

He looked down at me gratefully, "Thanks," his voice was small and shy, "how are you feeling?" I set the half-eaten bagel I'd completely abandoned on the small table beside me and wiped a few crumbs off of my lap before responding.

What was I supposed to say? The last thing I wanted was to worry anyone; not any more then they already had been for over a month.

"Great!" A plastered a large smile on my face hoping that it reached my eyes. For some reason, I chose to ignore the fact that Henry would see through it almost immediately- as if he couldn't see right through me as I could see through him.

His brows drew together slightly, a small frown drawing over his quickly pouting lips.

Damnit.

His mouth parted slightly as if he were about to speak when the door squeaked open for a third time that morning, causing him to turn his head and examine who had entered the room.

I blew out a small sigh, thankful for the perfectly-timed interruption.

I didn't have to wonder who came in this time for long because Dr. Perez' head peeked around the corner and looked around playfully, knocking his knuckles against the wall, "Good morning everyone. I hope I'm not interrupting anything." My parents replied with smiles and engaged in short, boring middle-aged banter for a moment while Henry looked down at me, a hint of worry reflecting in his somber eyes.

I looked away after shooting him a brief smile that afterward felt more like a grimace.

"Well, there are just a few things I'd like to discuss with you all this morning in regards to Mr. Lee and our options going forward." My parents nodded in understanding, encouraging him to continue as they took their seats in the few chairs lined against the opposite wall from me. Henry had his head slightly lowered, walking away from my side wearily and going to sit next to my mother in the last vacant spot. She patted his thigh lightly, grinning at the small, shy smile he sent back at her before looking back over to Dr. Perez as he made his way toward me and sat down in a small, swiveling chair that all doctors seemed to have.

"To start, Chandler will need to undergo physical therapy. It can be seen that his fine motor skills have slightly deteriorated due to not being used for quite some time. This is very common and really could be a lot worse, but we want to get on top of it now so we can get him back in shape quicker." He looked down at the clipboard in his hands and flipped through a few pages absentmindedly before looking glancing at me, "We'd like to keep you here for a week as of right now to closely monitor your recovery. After that, we can see how you're doing and decide when it's acceptable for you to be discharged. If all goes well, regularly scheduled physical therapy along with light exercise that can be done from the patient's home should be perfectly acceptable moving forward."

I nodded my head, trying to push away the slight disappointment weighing down in my gut. Another week of being here in this horrifyingly boring room with even more boring people? Of course I respected the medical staff immensely and I was very grateful for them, but they all were the same. They spoke like robots in a tone that perfectly reflected the environment; monotone and never changing.

Surely, I would go crazy.

"Now," he started after speaking a few words to my parents regarding therapy times and costs, "In order for us to understand your situation better, I need to ask you a few questions."

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"Of course," I encouraged, settling my hands in my lap and waiting for him to continue.

"Firstly, do you know what it was that occurred and caused you to be here? If so, can you tell me everything that happened leading up to it? I'm aware you've been questioned about this already, but it's policy to ask supplementary questions after certain intervals of time to measure your cognitive state and to see if you remember more details." His voice was gentle and tentative, carefully choosing his words.

I thought for a moment. My memory was blurry around the details of the night, but I remembered the basic things well enough. I repeated what I was sure of and what I'd told them when they asked me the same thing the night before, "I'd gone to work as normal. It was Friday, and some friends asked me if I wanted to get a drink after work. I said okay and called Henry to ask if he wanted to come along,"

I looked over at him, his body sagging slightly as he recalled the memories of that night. He looked deflated suddenly, but I didn't know why.

"He said no," I continued after a moment, "so I met my buddies at the bar at eight. We ate and drank, but I only had two beers. At eleven, I gave my friend a ride home." I tried to remember exactly what happened after that, my memory fuzzing a bit as I tried to piece things together, "Then, I drove home. Then, I just remember everything sort of going black at some point when I was on the freeway about twenty minutes from my place." I couldn't help it as my eyes lowered, watching my hands instead of my parents' faces as we were forced to relive the pain.

"Alright," Dr. Perez spoke softly, jotting something down on his clipboard, "I take it you'd like to know what exactly happened, then?"

I nodded my head hesitantly, raising my head to meet his eyes. There was a sick feeling in my stomach as he opened his mouth.

In a way, I didn't want to know. It was over, and I just wanted to go home.

"You were hit by a drunk driver." His eyes held sympathy as he started into mine. That much I'd already expected. The last thing I remembered was driving, so surely it had been an accident. I nodded for him to continue, "They ran into you from behind, causing your body to jerk forward. From our tests, it can be presumed that you first hit your head on the steering wheel and dashboard before knocking into your window. Your frontal lobe was swollen and bruised, the left side more so- most likely due to contact with the window."

He paused to let his words sink in. I felt like maybe I should be reacting differently. I looked over at my parents, seeing them eyeing me with sadness scribbled on their faces. I hated it.

I hated the pity that others felt for me due to something that nobody could control.

Henry looked as empty as ever, head bowed and staring at his hands twisted in his lap, playing with his fingers. I sighed, wishing the conversation would end so nobody would have to think about it anymore.

"Alright..." I replied slowly, nodding my head and looking back over to my father as he stroked my mother's back soothingly, "Is my car totally wrecked?"

There was a moment of silence before Dr. Perez and my father broke out in laughter, apparently expecting a vastly different response. I smiled slightly, and then chuckled lowly at myself. I guess I was never one to feel sorry for myself.

"That's what you're worried about?" My father laughed incredulously as he shook his head in disbelief, "Your car is in the shop. Mom and I are getting it fixed up but it'll be a few weeks."

I sighed, frustrated with the situation. Fixing the car after all the damage it must have taken if I'd gotten knocked out due to the impact wouldn't be cheap. The last thing I wanted was for them to have to worry about my medical bills and now the expenses to get my car fixed.

"At least let me pay half." I suggested, looking at them with pleading eyes, hoping that for once they could let me help out. Money was never tight in my family, but that didn't mean that I didn't want them to have plenty saved up for retirement.

"Shut your mouth young man," my mother scolded, pointing a surprisingly unpainted fingernail at me, her words defying the soft expression on her face, "you are not paying for this. Now, listen to your doctor!" I sighed and shook my head, raising a hand to rub at my temples. I'd bring it up again with my father later on to try and convince him.

"Well," Dr. Perez cleared his throat, clearly amused by the situation unfolding in front of him, "you were unconscious for a total of sixty-six days. It really is truly amazing how you managed to wake up so suddenly. You weren't responding at all beforehand. You really are a lucky case, Mr. Lee." He smiled genuinely. He seemed like a good man, and I was glad that he was my doctor instead of some monotonous, arrogant asshole that lots of doctors turn out to be.

"After we schedule your therapy sessions, it's a matter of having patience and maintaining positivity. While you're here, just try to relax as much as you can and work on settling your mind. We have a psychologist on the top floor that is always willing to work with patients at no extra costs. If you ever have any other questions for me while I'm out within the next week, you can page a nurse and I'll be get back to you as soon as I can." He bowed his head slightly in respect and stood up from his chair. He walked the few feet to my bed and stuck his hand out for me to shake, which I did- although quite slowly due to my rigid muscles.

He then proceeded to shake my parents' hands, followed by Henry's- who was still slightly lost in a daze as he gratefully smiled at the man in the white coat.

Dr. Perez grabbed his clipboard and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, looking from me to my parents one last time before excusing himself from the room politely with confident steps and a promise to see me soon.

My mother and father were immediately chattering away, speaking about every

thing and nothing. Part of me was grateful. The background noise was momentously better than silence. Henry stood up, stretching his back and sighing slowly. He walked over to a countertop across the room and opened the box of pastries he'd brought earlier. He reached inside the box and picked something I couldn't quite see from where I was sat in bed. He stuck it on a napkin and grabbed a cup from a cardboard tray before making his way over to me.

He smiled gently through his words as he lifted the hand holding the pastry, "I got you your favorite," I looked up at him and analyzed the treat he was carrying closer.

"Chocolate and crème Croissant?" I smiled bright, my mouth watering slightly at the sight. He nodded, setting the treat down in my lap gently before shaking the cup he'd been holding in front of my face.

"Your favorite coffee, too." he remarked proudly, "Iced caramel Macchiato." He smiled brightly as he watched my eyes light up. My heart warmed with the familiar taste of the coffee on my tongue and the sweet smell of the Croissant filling my nose.

"You know me so well." I chuckled, lifting my arm slowly to smooth his hair down in the front. His bangs had been slightly disheveled since he arrived earlier in his clumsy state. His hair was soft beneath my fingers, and I felt a strong urge to leave my hand there and just enjoy his warmth for a moment. My hand stuttered slightly after I'd realized what I was doing, causing me to sheepishly lower it back down. Henry's cheeks flushed slightly, the way they always did when I showed affection.

He was so goofy, so innocent- so soft and warm. So him. I was so glad that, after all this, he hadn't changed a bit.

Henry walked away only to retrieve a chair from the other side of the room and set it next to me. He strolled back to the countertop again and grabbed a pastry for himself along with another beverage he'd brought before making his way back to the seat, plopping down onto it and digging into his food immediately.

I chortled as a bit of cream from the pastry he'd been eating smeared the corner of his mouth. I shook my head, trying to savor how good the moment felt- how, for once, things almost seemed normal again.

My previously curbed appetite seemed to fizz away, and all of the sudden I was starving.

"So," he suddenly started, after we'd finished our treats and were sipping on the last of our coffee, "are you going to tell me what's wrong, now?"

I closed my eyes and sighed deeply. I didn't want to make things worse. I knew if I just played it off like it was nothing then it would make him worry even more, and that wasn't what I wanted.

"It's just," I took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly before continuing, "it doesn't feel like I'm awake yet. It feels weird, like everything's slightly out of place. I don't feel myself." I didn't know what he would say, I just hoped my answer wouldn't worry him any further. I also hoped he wouldn't crumble into a puddle of pity at my feet and cry over the fact that I was feeling lost.

"Well," he said after a moment of silence just absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the duvet covering me, "I can't say that I know what you're feeling right now. I've never been through what you just had to endure."

He looked up at me from where his chin was resting on his knuckles and put his lands in his lap, "What I do know, though, is that I went through a lot of change these past eight weeks, too." He took a deep breath and I focused on how his lashes fluttered when he blinked away seemingly negative thoughts, "I had to face one of my biggest fears and watch my best friend lay there seemingly crumbling away into nothing."

I sucked in a breath when I saw a single tear fall from his eye and dribble down his cheek. His lip quivered slightly while he paused to calm himself down. I instinctively moved to rest my hand on his forearm that had been limply lying on his lap and squeezed, trying my best to offer comfort without smothering him. I waited patiently for him to continue, not being able to find any words as he was trying his best not to crack in front of me.

The buzz of my parents' voices still chatting to one another and drinking their coffee faded away as soon as he looked up at me with his glassy umber eyes and spoke, "I went through hell; we all did. I need you to know that you're not alone- that you didn't go through this alone. I feel lost, too. I can't look at things the same way, anymore. It's like everything has a new meaning; an importance that wasn't there before. I feel like this is all some sick, hopeful dream that I'll wake up from any moment and you'll still be laying here asleep."

I swallowed thickly, trying my best to find words. I sat up straighter and leaned toward him, trying to get closer despite the confines of the hospital bed, "I'm not asleep, anymore. It's not a dream," I pinched his cheek jokingly, trying to lighten his mood and soothe the ache of my heart that stung in my chest every time he looked at me with his red-rimmed eyes.

He looked down and smiled small and gently, shaking his head lightly. He sniffed and looked at me again, but this time, he was holding himself together.

Whether it was for me or for him, I didn't know. Maybe both.

"Just know that we're both going to get through this together, Chan. We can get through it, and things will be better again, like before."

He squeezed my hand that was still on his forearm, reassuring and firm before he stood and gathered our napkins and empty cups, leaving me to dwell over his next words.

"You know, they say that walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light."