The Eye of the Beholder /Phan>•</

The Tears are Always Blue

• Wish You Were Mine by Caroline Dare •

When I wake up, I don't recognize my surroundings. My eyes try to pull me back to sleep, and though I am tempted, I want to see where I am first.

All I see is bright lights, all around me.

And it's weird, because I'm oddly cold. There is a chill, a tingle, in my spine that won't go away. I turn my head and see a bedside table and a chair nearby. There is a slumped figure in it, but I can't make it out before sleep is calling me back.

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"-ay if we do it? How would we even know?" I hear as I awake once again. When was the last time I opened my eyes. I can't see who's speaking, and I can't place who it is. It's a high-pitched female voice, that sounds like it should be perky, but isn't. I rack my memory for this voice, but I can't think of anything.

"If we don't do the surgery, he is going to die. There is no way around it. He has maybe four hours left until his body catches up with itself and his heart will stop pumping. I'm so sorry."

"Then do the damn surgery! For god's sake, just make him live!" I feel bad for whoever they are. Poor thing, barely able to survive. Four hours? That's barely enough for, anything.

I try to sit up, and I involuntarily scream. I try again, but I can't move without being in excruciating pain. A nurse rushes in to answer my shrieks. I vaguely begin to realize that I am in a hospital.

"Hey, hey, just stay there. We will raise the bed." I can only nod, and even that causes pain. The bed rises and I tap her when it's at a good spot. She smiles and says she is leaving to fetch me a water. I turn my head and see the same, hunched over figure I saw earlier. All I can see a big jacket and black hair, the person's face looking at the floor. I realize that they are probably asleep, until I hear a quiet sob. Whoever it is, looks like a 'he.' His hands are in his lap, and I realize that he is very pale.

"Phil?" I croak, without even realizing it. He looks up, and I realize that my guess was right. "Phil." I smile, content that I got to see him again. He rushes to my side, launching himself from the chair. He tries to smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Everything's gonna be okay." He says firmly.

"I'm sorry, Phil. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, no. No, this isn't your fault. God, this isn't your fault." I try to smile, but I can't.

"Am I going to die?" Phil always knew I hated hospitals. I hate the stench of the dead and the dying, the clean but still somehow dirty floors, the uncomfortable beds. I hate hospitals.

Phil looks down.

"They're saying..They're saying they gotta do a surgery. You're," Phil sniffles, and tries not to cry. "You're internally bleeding. Some glass from the accident got into your lung. Two inches lower and you'd be..." He tries to complete the sentence. "You'd be gone."

"I'm scared."

"I know, but it's gonna be okay. It is. It's all gonna be alright, and when you're all healed up, I'm gonna marry you." I smile. Then it clicks.

"That was Louise, then. Out in the hallway. They were talking about me."

"Yeah." Is all he says.

"I love you, Phil."

"I love you too, Danny." I kiss him on the cheek, holding him close.

"Your eyes, I always knew it was you. You can't understand how much you mean to me. How much these eyes mean to me." I can see that Phil is beginning to cry again.