PruCan - Recover (Nights)

8

Waking up in a sterile hospital room was not what I had thought would happen when I returned to the room I shared with Matthew, only a few hours ago. I groaned, rolling over and checking my monitors and breathing pattern before carefully disconnecting myself from all the lines that connected me to the machines. Searching for my clothes, I pulled on my pants and shrugged into my shirt after discarding my hospital gown neatly folded onto a chair. Pushing back the curtains that surrounded my bed, I kept roving by beds until I found the other one blocked by curtains. I took a deep breath before moving them aside.

I couldn't quite look Matthew in the face, but I managed to pick up his chart and read all that I needed to.

"Stomach pumped... half-bottle of prescribed anti-depressants... obvious signs of self-harm evident, but none seemingly fresh... Oh, Mattie, mein kleiner Vogel..."

He stirred a little, and I couldn't help but take his hand and rub my thumb across his knuckles.

"Hey," I whispered as his eyes fluttered opened. I couldn't read the look he gave me; a mix of hurt, confusion, fear, misery, and anger.

"Just, let me speak first, okay?"

The look just persisted, solidifying if anything as the confusion shrunk. But Matthew didn't stop me as I started.

"I am sorry. And I know that that isn't enough, but also I want you to know that I don't remember a time that I have ever said that, that I have even wanted to say that, that I cared enough about another person or what I did to them or how it made them feel, in order to say that. But dammit, I do mean it. And just, I couldn't control it. That isn't any reason to forgive me, and you don't have to, at all. But you are my friend – really, my best friend – and there is no one like you in my life, and I would never intentionally hurt you. I've been talking to the doctors every day since that night, and really, I don't think that I have been this clear about myself and my narcissism – and you, and what you mean to me – in a very long time. And just, I am so sorry, Matthew. I truly am."

He kept staring long enough that I was fairly sure he might not speak to me ever again, part two....

"Gil, why are you here?"

I scratched the back of my head, not quite looking at Matthew's face as I replied, "I, uh, hyperventilated, and, um, apparently passed out."

"Why?"

I blinked, then furrowed my brow, not entirely sure what the question was.

"Because I care about you?"

"Is that a question or a statement?"

"A statement?"

He heaved a sigh, a cross between a frown and a glare on his face.

"You reminded me that I thought my life wasn't worth living."

I could barely breathe seeing the anguish on his face and knowing that I had been the cause of it. I could only wait for Matthew to keep on speaking.

"When it was a little too late for me to fix it though," he continued. "You also reminded me why life actually was worth living. You reminded me of happiness, more happiness than I had felt in years. Actually, more anything than I had felt in years, and I am done being numb. You are my best friend, and that is something worth being alive for. It wasn't your fault, what you said and did, and I can forgive you. I do forgive you."

I could only fall to the floor by his bed and cling onto the hand that I was holding, crying as Matthew gently shushed me and stroked my hair with his free hand. I never knew someone could mean so much to me.