Can't Afford To Lose Another Second With You (Scömìche)

Don't Dare to Hope

A/N: Slight trigger warning: suicide mention. Very brief though, but I just wanna make sure you're alright.

"We're here to visit Mitch Grassi," my mom said at the counter. The assistant smiled friendly, but I didn't care. I wanted to see Mitch right now, wanted to make sure he was really alive before I let myself be hopeful.

"Sure, one second," the woman said and typed something into the computer, scrolling for a moment. "Are you part of his family?"

"No, but we're his emergency contact," my mom answered quickly.

"I see. He's in room 351, that's upstairs, third floor. Visiting hours end at eight."

I wanted to run up the stairs, but my body was so drained I could barely move. So I just kept walking next to my mom, who thankfully didn't try to start a conversation.

***

I opened the door to room 351 carefully and stepped inside. There was a sterile smell lying in the air, even more than usually in hospitals. And in the bed lay Mitch, a lot of wires connected to his body that made me wonder why he needed all of this. His eyes were closed. His hair damp. But his breathing was steady.

"Oh god, Mitchy!" I choked and kneeled next to his bed, pressing a kiss to his forehead as I always did. I didn't care my mom was in the room with me. Tears threatened to fall down again, and I let them, not having the strength to stop them. I brushed the wet strand from his eyes, heart clenching. He was there. He was alive.

"Is he gonna be alright?" I asked my mom.

"I don't know," she answered. "I hope so."

I took his hands into mine, his fingers ice cold so I warmed them.

The doctor came into the room, turning towards my mom.

"Hi, I'm doctor Coleman. Nice to meet you, Ms Grassi."

"Oh, no, I'm not- nice to meet you too, doc."

"Is he gonna be okay?" I asked, dreading the answer. But doctor Coleman smiled.

"Most likely, yes. He's going to live. As for his memory, he suffered a head injury, so it's possible he won't remember much."

"What- so, like, nothing at all? Like, he won't remember who I am?"

"I'm afraid that's a possibility. I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do about it. The most important thing right now is that he's alive."

"Of course."

"He should wake up soon. He suffers from severe hypothermia, he was found just this morning by the riverside. We assume he tried to commit suicide."

The doctor checked his files and turned around. "He just needs some time now to wake up," he said and left the room. My mom turned to me.

"Scott," she began. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"I didn't want to bother you the past days but back when you said it was your fault he tried to- to kill himself, what did you mean?"

Oh. That.

"Nothing," I lied.

"Don't lie to me."

I exhaled. Fine. "He- we- I can't-"

"Just take a deep breath and tell me the story."

"I'll make it short." I said. "He was crying when I woke up and he said he was sorry and I didn't deserve it and he left. I didn't know what he meant but I didn't- I didn't hold him back. I should've stopped him from going."

"Okay," my mom said. "I get that it's none of my business but do you know what he meant now? You need to talk about it when he wakes up. Clear the table, do you understand me?"

"I think I do, now," I admitted. "I'll make sure it never happens again."

"Scott-" my mom started again. "Don't say that. You're putting too much pressure on yourself. It's not your fault."

"Yeah. I know. I'll be as good for him as I can be."

"That's better."

I sat down on the edge of Mitch's bed, holding his hand and drawing soft patterns with my thumb. His hands were getting a bit warmer already.

"Mitchy," I whispered. "I'm here. You're going to be okay." I pressed another kiss to his forehead.

His eyelids fluttered open and he looked at me as if he didn't know me.