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It's dark.
I can't see anything.
Maybe that's a good thing, not being able to see.
It's not like there's anything to see around here anyways.
I can't move my hands.
I can't move my arms, my wrists, or legs.
I feel frozen.
I feel calm.
I can still hear, though.
It's quiet.
I can still feel, too.
I can feel the fabric of my bloody clothes.
I can feel the roughness of my carpet.
My door creaked open.
I don't want to know who it is.
I feel like I need to know, though.
I hear a gasp.
I feel the boom, boom, boom of footsteps racing toward me.
I hear my name.
"John, John, no!"
Whose voice is that?
It seems familiar.
I feel something clamp down on my arm.
I feel something else wrap around my back.
I hear sobs. Something wet is on my face.
"Why couldn't you have waited? Why?"
I didn't have time, voice.
Suddenly, I feel weightless.
Am I floating?
The warm objects are still wrapped around me.
The voice is carrying me away.
I slip into the dark abyss, away from the voice.
Soon, I return from the abyss.
Why did I return?
I don't want that.
The warmth is gone.
I still hear sobs, mixed in with sirens.
I hear the voice again.
I can't understand the words.
I hear another voice, deeper, more business-like.
"He'll need to stay at the hospital for a while, for monitoring."
Who are they talking about?
A gasp occurs and the warmth is back on my arm.
It leaves soon, though.
I miss it.
Something pricks my arm, and the abyss drags me back in.
Eventually I come back once more.
This time, I have more feeling.
I don't want the feeling back, but it's too late.
I still can't move my body.
I can open my eyes, though.
So I do.
I am met with a bright white light, and I shut my eyes again.
I hear something shift beside me.
The warmth is back.
The voice is, too.
"Oh my god, John, are you waking up now?"
Is that what I'm doing?
When did I go to sleep?
How does the voice know my name?
I try and open my eyes again.
This time, something is blocking the light.
A round silhouette.
Perhaps a head?
The silhouette gasps.
I feel something wet on my face again.
"Fuckin' finally."
I think I know that voice.
I try and move my fingers.
My eyes are still on the round shadow.
My fingers can move.
The silhouette moves.
It looks down at my slightly moving fingers.
I blink up at nothing.
It's still really bright in here.
Suddenly the shadow is gone.
I hear a buzzing noise.
I feel the warmth wrap around my hands.
It's nice.
The door opens.
I can't focus on who it is, so I just close my eyes again.
The wielder of the warmth protests, though, so I open them back up.
The light above has been turned off.
Thank god.
I hear more words I can't be bothered to understand.
So I ignore them.
I try and move more parts of me instead.
My wrists can move.
My elbows can move.
My mouth can move, too.
My tongue is dry.
Can I speak?
I try and ask where the voice is.
I don't even know if it came out right.
I get no response.
Only a squeeze from the warmth.
I hear a deep voice.
Not the voice I want to hear.
"Time for rest, Mr. Egbert."
I close my eyes once more, and drift.
When I open them again, everything is dim.
I can see more.
I can move more.
I look around.
Am I in a hospital room?
I turn my head to the side.
A figure is sitting in a chair next to me.
The warmth is still on my hand.
I look down and see it attached to a different hand.
I follow the flow of the hand up an arm.
I follow the trail of a body to its end.
I land on a pair of shades.
I realize something.
The voice I want to hear belongs to this person.
The warmth I want to feel belongs here, too.
The person who is sitting in the chair next to me is Dave.
Was Dave the warmth all along?
Was Dave the voice that found me?
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
Dave can't be.
He wasn't supposed to know.
I didn't want him to know.
I didn't want anyone to know.
I look down at his warm hand over mine.
My vision goes blurry, but I can still see.
Why was he the first to find me?
A sound is filling this quiet room.
Is it me?
Perhaps it's the sound of my tears.
Dave stirs.
His body shifts, and I hear another audible gasp.
Soon his hand is wrapping me in a hug.
His other hand rubs through my hair.
I hear quiet shushes, and a few reassurances that everything was fine now.
I can't believe them, but they're good to hear.
"John, please, relax."
I can't.
He knows what I did.
He sighs.
A hand rubs my back.
I try and move my mouth again.
My voice is raspy.
I don't like it, but he needs to hear me.
"D-d-dave, I-I'm so s-so--"
"No, John, don't."
"B-bu-"
"Relax first."
I try and do as he says.
My sobs die down.
I can move my hands and arms again.
My mind is still a little blurry.
Dave leans back a little.
He's sitting on the hospital bed next to me.
When did he do that?
"God, don't ever do that again."
I look at his face.
His shades are pushed into his hair.
One of his hands is rubbing his eyes.
They have thick, dark, black circles under them.
Did I cause this?
"You could've just told me. I could've helped. I don't care what I had to do, I would have tried, at least,"
I hear his voice crack.
Oh no.
I feel more strength returning to me.
"I care, we all care about you, John. You didn't need to do this."
His fingers absentmindedly run over the newest, deepest scar on my wrist, trailing lightly on the others afterwards.
"We all would've missed you. I would've missed you."
Dave takes in a shuddering breath and looks away from me at the wall.
I try and sit up.
Cords are holding me down.
Dave notices my struggling and helps me up.
Soon I am upright.
I cast a glance around the room.
It looks like it's the middle of the night.
I woke Dave up.
He needs rest, badly.
I feel bad now.
I look back at Dave.
Above the deep charcoal, his eyes are red rimmed.
He was crying.
I made him cry.
I slowly reach my arms up and wrap them around Dave.
He hugs me back almost instantly.
His embrace is light.
Almost like he doesn't want to break me.
A tear falls from my eye.
"Dave, I, I wasn't, I didn't mean for..."
My raspy, quiet voice trails off.
What can I say to justify what I did?
His warm voice resonates from my shoulder.
"Don't worry about it, John. All that matters is you are still here with us."
His shoulders hunch a little into me.
His voice gets quieter.
"The Doc wasn't sure you were going to make it."
So my plan had almost worked.
I had just barely scraped the edge of my ultimate goal.
Darkness.
Blackness.
The abyss of nothing and shadows was right there.
His shoulders begin to shake a little.
I feel something wet at the base of my neck, along with a heavy warmth.
He's crying again.
I attempt to rub his back slowly, attempting to comfort him as he had done me.
Later, when we both are done crying, Dave is laying next to me, head sharing my pillow.
His shades are still off.
My glasses are missing.
Favoring the quiet, we kind of just watch each other for a while.
His hand is holding mine between us.
His other hand is wrapped around me.
His warmth is nice.
I blink.
I watch him some more.
His eyes aren't quite as red-rimmed as before.
The dark shadows are still there.
The crimson of his irises shine, even in the dim dark of this room.
He looks gorgeous.
I have to tell him.
I give his face one more look over before I say it, voice quiet, but not quite raspy anymore.
I exhale and begin.
"I, I love you, Dave."
He chuckles.
He brings our intertwined hands to his mouth and kisses my knuckles.
"I love you, too."
A half-sob, half-chuckle escapes me.
I don't have to worry about that anymore.
His hand leaves mine, wrapping around me and pulling me close.
I embrace him as well, much stronger than the first with my muscles awakening.
He reassures me.
"I love you, too."
He chuckles a little.
"Don't ever try that again."
I nod weakly against his chest.
I can't promise, but I will try.
With Dave's help.