Picking Up The Pieces

Chp.5 John's POV

       HAHA I liiiiiive! I feel really bad that I haven't updated in a while ;-;, but I want ya'll to know I found some more inspiration and there will be TONS and TONS of more chapters yet to come! Thank you to all who didn't lose hope in me! I love you lots!!!

         As I wheeled my semi-crippled best friend up the ramp leading to the apartment we share my head was in a battle between happiness and worry. I did some research before picking Dave up, and apparently it is possible for him to regain his memory in short spirts. While I'd be happy to have my boyfriend back; how would he feel about me not just telling him outright when he awoke? Wow, I haven't felt this much angst and insecurity since I was a pubescent teenager.

        "Hey, I think we're here." A voice, again, pulled me out of my daze. I shuffled for the keys and shoved them into the lock, my hand was still shaking as I turned the key. I pushed him in, and then attempted to create a smooth path through the wires that led to the DJ equipment he had installed shortly before the incident.

        "Home sweet home." I said merrily, avoiding the urge to press my lips against his and come out clean. It would be too awkward. Or I'm just awkward...

        God damnit! I forgot he still can't stay awake for prolonged periods of time! He nearly fell off the chair while, once again, I was lost in stupid thoughts.While I was positioning him back upright I then took a few seconds to admire how adorable he looked while he slept. Then I got down to business, and had a hell of a time trying to lift his boney ass onto the bed. I'm surprised with how much I was jostling him around, he didn't stir.

        When I finally got him settled into bed I came to the realization he hasn't had anything but shitty hospital food in a few weeks. Due to my father's inability to create nothing but Betty Crocker sweets I kind've had to fend for myself when it came to nutritional meals. So I pride myself in being a mediocre chef. The meal I concocted for the Strider consisted of pizza and AJ. Yeah, I know you were expecting something fancy, but you see, Striders have shitty palattes that consist of grease and the occasional horse hoof. I used to love pizza from places like Little Ceasers, until it became an every night thing with Dave. So, as I took the plate that I had made just for him to the room I held it slightly away from my face to try to avoid the smell that used to bring delight, but now brings up a bit of vomit.

        As I was entering the room I was surprised he still wasn't awake yet. There is nothing to fret, however, the nurse said the possibility he's slip back into a coma was slim to none so I guess on the ride here I must have pooped him out. I set the inedible meal down on the nightstand beside him in the hopes that when he wakes up it won't be cold. This was all so familiar. It wasn't but a few months ago that the same scene was occuring, except the tables were turned.

***

Everything was hot. Everything was burning up. It felt as if I was on the sun. Earlier I had shed my clothes in the attempt to cool off, to no avail. The state I was in was not quite awake, but not yet asleep, sort of drifing in the in-between. Dave was taking care of me the best way he knew how. He brought me the only meal he knew how to cook, I couldn't eat it, but his heart was still in the right place. After setting the food down on the nightstand, not knowing I was awake, he slowly leaned down and pressed his lips against mine. The action was still idiotic since he could've very well caught the illness, but it still felt nice, his lips were cool.

"Sleep tight Egbert. Sleep tight."

***

Now I felt as though I had to return the favor. I leaned down and softly pressed my lips against his.

"Sleep tight Strider. Sleep tight."