Polar Opposite (boyxboy)

Part 3

I Finished finally c: Here it is

Alex POV

I'm in the hospital the day of Lyric's funeral. Four broken ribs. A shattered collarbone. Concussion. I just woke up from a coma. Scattered scenes of the crash flash through my brain like a broken movie reel. Slamming on the breaks. Glass shattering. A scream. That scream. It plays in my head over and over again. Lyric was instantly killed. I wasn't as lucky.

My mind's hazy, has been since this morning when I came out of the coma. It lasted 12 days, the doctors said. I'm lucky to be alive. I don't feel lucky.

The police were there too when I woke up. They only hung around long enough to ask me questions, get a statement. No charges are being pressed against me, the driver of the car that killed my best friend, because It technically wasn't my fault. Some ego-maniacal little shit decided to take his dad's car for a joyride and smashed into us at 90 miles per hour. He got out with barely a scratch.

And Skye. He was there too, by my bedside. The first thing I saw when I woke up was blonde hair. I was too out of it to question his presence, but now I'm starting to wonder just what the hell he was doing sitting in a chair next to me, looking for all the world like he belonged there. He lfet about 20 minutes ago, I don't know where he decided to go, but I'm hoping he doesn't come back.

My dad hasn't shown. I don't think he even knows I'm awake. I don't care. I don't want to see his face. For all I care, he could be passed out shitface drunk in a ditch somewhere. Yeah, hope he's feeling the love.

Skye POV

I stare at the cup in front of me, the same as I have for the past twenty minutes. Around me, tired looking people do much of the same. Parents,Siblings,spouses. All here because someone else's misfortune effects them in some way. Hospitals have a sort of hopless feel to them. Wierd, because they're the plcae you come to give yourself hope. To ward off death for a little while longer. I wonder how many of the people aorund me will go home alone. At least I know I won't. Though, the person I'll be leaving here with will not be doing so willingly.

Alex. My sworn enemy. And now I'm forced to help him. For him to live with me. Just because I felt bad for him. Remebering the night his dad, drunk as a skunk, begged me to take him in isn't something I want to think about. It's pathetic, really, seeing a grown man beg you to take his son in because he feels guilty for beating him for years. 

I'm walking down the hallway in the hospital, looking for his room. Alex. I need to see his face. I finally reach the door and crack it open. Alex lays in the bed, looking even plaer than usual and hooked up to a million different machines. A cast goes from his shoulders to his waist. They told me he had a broken collarbone, some ribs too. But I wasn't really expecting this. This looks almost like some warped straightjacket. I don't know Alex well, but I know enough to see that when he wakes up, he's going to flip absolute shit. Claustraphobia's a bitch. 

A middle aged man with a drooping belly and heavily sunken eyes sits next to him. Or maybe a more correct term would be slumps. I can practically see the booze radiatng off him. He turns to me, and Im startled to see he has tears in his eyes. Oh shit, a weepy drunk. This won't end well. 

"Wh'are you?" He slurs. I hesitate, unsure what to say. "I'm..A friend" I say softly. He seems to think this is a good enough answer and turns back to his injured son. 

After a while of awkward silence, he turns to me looking for all the world like someone just killed his puppy.

"I'm a terrible father." He says, on the brink of hysteria. Im not sure how to respond, but he continues on.

"Man, I've been such a bastard to him. Hitting the bottle, smacking him around. I can't help it, ever since his mother died I can't refrain form calling him names. I wish I could find somewhere better for him, but where would he go? I'm all he has..."

His body sags and he stares at the floor. I don't say anything. What would be the appropriate thing to  say to a father who mourns his dead wife by hitting his son?

Finally, he looks up, his eyes sparking with an idea. 

"You! You could take him! You're his friend, right? He could come live with you!" He says, looking like he's just found the cure to cancer. I back up.

"Um, No no I don;t thank that'd b-" I start, but he lets out a wail, falling to his knees in front of me.

"Please! Take him! I don't know what I'll do otherwise...Please! Just untill I can get myself back together!" He wails. He's begging me. I can feel myself giving in. No! don't give in! Alex is your enemy! Whate were you even thinking, coming in here?

"I..." I say, then sigh, dejected. "Okay."

Alex's dad beams. Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?

So, now I've managed to rope myself into living with the guy I've hated for most of my life for what looks like what could be a long time. I'm too nice.

I have to admit. I wasn't expecting that. I never knew Alex dad hit him. He never had any of the signs at school. No brusies. He wasn't jumpy. I wonder how long its been going on. Despite myself, I find myself feeling sorry for him. I mean, nobody should have to deal with that. No wonder he was such a downer.

I'm regretting having to tell him. His dad split three days ago with no signs of him returning any time soon. He was probably going to get more beer. 

I don't know what I'm doing. I meander down the hallway with a cup of cofee in my hand, no direction in mind. I need some air. I feel like I'm suffering. On of the nurses at the hospital recomended me to go see a grief counselour, but I can barely think Lyric's name, let alone talk about her. I look up to see a nurse hurrying towards me. She looks frazzled. Her hair is falling out of it's ponytail and her clothes are wrinkled. She stops in front of me and give me a pointed look.

"Where have you been? I've been in there with him all night. Do you have any idea how much I had to pay my babysitter? I had to make the call in  the room with him. Do you know how unprofessional that is? Jesus boy, just get in there. Room 157." 

I'm not sure what to say, but before I can open my mouth she hurries away, muttering. With no other plan, I walk the way she came until I reach the room she mentioned. I push open the door.

A boy, about my age, lies on the bed. His arms are wrapped in bandages from wrist to elbow. He has hair thats dark brown on the top and fades to a more blonde color at the ends. His ears are stretched and he has a septum ring as well as angel bites. His eyes are cracked open. He looks at me. I'm not sure what to do.

"Uh hi, mind telling me what I'm supposed to be doing?" I say quietly. He looks at me for a moment.

"You don't know? Oh wow, you poor bastard. You got yourself roped into watching me for the next few hours. You're the bitch's replacement, am I correct?" He says. His voice is flat, emotionless.  He scoots so that he's sitting up.

"Um, No I don't think so. I think she thought I was.." I say. He chuckles, but it's not a happy sound. It's bitter. Sad. 

"Well sorry about that man, Not my fault they don't trust me. Sit down, I hope you have a phone or something. I don't do tricks so it gets pretty boring in here."

I nod and sit down, still confused. After around 5 minutes, I can't handle the curiousity.

"Soo, why are you here? And how come you're under surveilance?" I ask. He shrugs.

"Oh that. I tried to kill myself."

Liek omg guys she updated

Sorry ugh I've been sick and then wattpad wasn't letting me update stuff and rahh I can't handle the internet.

But anyway. AHHH LYRIC IS DEAD? Yeah it had to happen for the story to move along. You should have expected it, I put it in the description. And who is this new guy? Ahhaha wait for part 4 and you shall see young one. Picture is of him <3

Song: Memphis May Fire|Prove Me Right