Midnight Rides

Chapter XXI

I was waiting anxiously at the hospital, my heart pounding in my chest, desperate to know what was happening to Aaron. The car accident had left us both shaken, but I had escaped with only minor injuries. Aaron, on the other hand, had taken the brunt of the collision, and the severity of his condition was still unknown.

I glanced towards the hospital doors and saw Aaron's parents rushing in, their faces etched with worry and fear. Without a moment's hesitation, I got up from the seat and hurried towards them. As I reached them, I wrapped my arms around Aaron's mom, seeking solace in her embrace. Tears welled up in my eyes, and this was the first time my emotions overwhelmed me to such an extent.

Breaking the hug, she looked at me, gently wiping away the tears from my cheeks. "I'm sorry, it happened so fast," I whimpered, my voice filled with guilt. Aaron's mom hugged me again, her touch soothing and comforting. "Mrs. Graham, please don't hate me," I whispered, my voice barely audible. She shook her head, struggling to find the right words.

"Noah, sweetheart, it's not your fault. Aaron just needs patience and time to heal, ok?" Mr. Graham asks. I nodded as Mr. Graham started taking control of the situation. He looked at me with understanding and concern. "Have you heard anything from the doctors?" he asked, his voice laced with worry. I shook my head, my gaze fixated on the doors that separated me from the love of my life.

Feeling overwhelmed, I slowly moved back to the waiting area, followed by Aaron's parents. I sank into one of the seats and buried my face in my hands, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. "Noah, don't beat yourself up, it's not your fault," Mr. Graham whispered, his words attempting to alleviate the burden I carried. I nodded, appreciating his support, and glanced at my phone. It buzzed incessantly with calls from my own parents, who were undoubtedly worried sick.

With a heavy sigh, I stood up and walked away, telling Aaron's parents that I needed to speak with my own parents. I called my mom, and she let out a sigh of relief upon hearing my voice. We talked for a little while, seeking comfort in each other's words, before she mentioned her trip to Spain to attend her sister's wedding for the tenth time. My heart sank at the thought of her leaving during such a difficult time.

As I turned around, my eyes fell upon Aaron's parents engaged in a conversation with a doctor. Their crystal blue eyes were filled with tears, and my heart skipped a beat. I hurried back to them, and the doctor shifted his attention to me. Despite the gravity of the situation, he offered a soft smile and ushered us into a private room. My breath caught in my throat as I entered, my eyes widening at the sight before me. There lay the love of my life, fighting for his own.

His body was covered in bandages and connected to various machines that monitored his vital signs. The beeping of the machines seemed to echo in the room, a constant reminder of the fragility of life. I felt a lump forming in my throat, and I struggled to hold back tears as I approached Aaron's bedside.

The doctor explained that Aaron had sustained multiple injuries, including broken bones and internal bleeding. They had managed to stabilize him, but he was not out of danger yet. He needed surgery to address the internal injuries and would require extensive rehabilitation afterward. The uncertainty of the situation weighed heavily on all of us.

I took Aaron's hand in mine, holding it gently as if my touch could somehow transfer my love and strength to him. I whispered words of encouragement, promising that we would get through this together. Aaron's parents stood on the other side of the bed, their faces etched with pain and hope. They thanked the doctor and asked for some time alone with their son.

Leaving the room, I could see the immense pain in their eyes, and I understood their desperation. We were all hoping for a miracle, praying that Aaron would pull through and make a full recovery. My mind raced with memories of our time together, the laughter, the love, and the dreams we shared. I couldn't imagine a life without him.

Over the next few days, the hospital became a place of emotional turmoil. Friends and family visited, offering support and love, creating a support network that I was incredibly grateful for. Yet, the hours spent waiting for updates on Aaron's condition felt agonizingly long. Each beep of the machines felt like a stab in my heart, and I found myself constantly looking for any sign of improvement.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the day of Aaron's surgery arrived. We all gathered in the waiting room, clinging to the hope that the skilled medical team would work wonders. The hours dragged on, and time seemed to stand still. Every moment that passed without news felt like an eternity.

When the surgeon finally emerged from the operating room, we held our breath, waiting for his words. He explained that the surgery had been challenging but successful. Aaron was stable, and they had addressed the internal injuries. The relief that washed over us was indescribable, and tears of joy mixed with tears of gratitude flowed freely.

Me and his parents were sitting on the uncomfortable chairs for hours making sure when he wakes up, we're with him.