The Rise Of CuteGuy

Hospital

Cub's pov:

I have been visiting my brother in the hospital for about two weeks now. They say he should be waking up soon as his injuries have healed enough that he doesn't need to be in a coma; he just needs to be careful. I had moved into his place so I could take care of Jelly and make sure everything was okay with his recovery when he gets out. Today was a Friday of week three. I am so worried. My head keeps telling me he will never wake up, so here I am holding his hand, crying quietly.

The doctors come and go, offering words of encouragement, but it's hard to hold onto hope when each day passes without any change. The hospital room feels like a second home now, filled with the rhythmic beeps of machines and the antiseptic smell that clings to my clothes. I often sit by his side, talking to him about mundane things, hoping my voice might reach him somehow.

Jelly misses him too. Every time I go back to his place, she looks at me with those big, sad eyes, wondering why her best friend isn't coming home. I try to keep everything as normal as possible, feeding her, playing with her, but there's a palpable absence that neither of us can ignore.

Nights are the hardest. When everything is still, and the weight of the situation settles heavily on my shoulders, I find myself questioning everything. What if he never wakes up? What if I've missed something important, some sign of improvement? The what-ifs are endless and exhausting.

As I sit here now, holding his hand, I can only hope and pray that he feels my presence. That somehow, my touch and my tears will reach through the fog of unconsciousness and bring him back to me. All I can do is wait and hope, even as the fear gnaws at my heart.

I am just tracing little shapes over his hand when his hand twitches and he stirs. I panicked a bit and took his hand gently as he started to wake up. My heart raced as I leaned in closer, watching his eyelids flutter. It felt like a fragile moment, and I didn't want to do anything that might scare him back into the darkness.

"Hey, it's okay Scar. I'm here," I whispered softly, my voice trembling with a mix of hope and anxiety. His eyes slowly opened, unfocused at first, but then they began to settle on my face. Relief washed over me, and I couldn't hold back the tears that spilled down my cheeks.

He tried to speak, but his voice was weak and raspy. "W-what happened?" he managed to ask.

"You had an accident," I said, squeezing his hand gently. "But you're going to be okay. Just take it easy."

As he began to come to grips with his surroundings, I could see the confusion and fear in his eyes. I knew this was just the beginning of a long road to recovery. I could tell his heart rate was picking up a little bit as the memories flooded into him.

"How... how am I alive? I remember... flying into a building..." he asked, confused. He tried sitting up but winced as he aggravated his injuries from the lack of movement. I quickly helped him sit up, adjusting the bed to a slight incline.

"You got saved, Scar. It's all over the news—a red blur saved you. No one really knows who it is; no one got a good look at them," I said honestly. He seemed really tired and out of it, his eyes struggling to stay open. He ended up putting a hand on his chest where the injuries were.

"They... they stopped the bleeding..." he mumbled, his voice trailing off as he tried to comprehend everything.

"Yeah, they did. You're safe now," I reassured him, squeezing his hand. "Just focus on getting better. You've been through a lot, but you're still here. That's what matters."

He nodded slightly, his eyes closing again as exhaustion overtook him. "Thank you," he whispered, and I knew he wasn't just thanking me for helping him sit up. He was grateful for everything—for being there, for taking care of Jelly, for not giving up on him.