Dear Andy ➳ Randy [✓]

prologue

The world felt as if it was rushing around him, yet he was stuck in a moment's time. They were sat in a waiting room. He wasn't sure how he had gotten there, but he was.

He was staring a blank wall, unmoving, Andy's journal pressed securely to his chest. It was the only thing he had. And he refused to give it up.

He hadn't cried. Mikey noticed that. He noticed that after Andy was taken from him, he just stopped. It was like he was there physically, but mentally he was in a whole different world. Mikey just guessed that was his way of dealing with things.

Jack had stayed at home with Brooklyn. The blonde boy was distressed enough as it was, and they knew that sitting in the hospital would just panic him more. But Mikey had promised that he would call the second he got any news.

Blair was on a flight back from LA, and wouldn't arrive until early the next morning. Andy's mother was on her way down from Manchester. He hated that he was the only one capable of telling her what had happened.

Mikey sighed and took a seat next to Rye, placing a hand on the older boys shoulder. Rye showed no sign of even acknowledging Mikey's existence. He bit his lip and shakes him slightly.

"Rye...please. Don't shut down. Don't shut me out. You need me. I need you" Mikey said, fighting back his own tears. Still, Rye sat there. A blank expression on his face. Mikey huffed in annoyance.

He knew that it wasn't Rye's fault. Rye hated showing his feelings. He kept them concealed inside. He bottled them up to the point any normal person would just burst. But Rye never did. Or, if so, he did it when no one else was around to see him breakdown.

"Andy Fowler?" A male nurse had walked up to them, a clipboard pressed against his chest, a solemn look on his face. For the first time since they arrived, Rye broke his stare with the wall and looked up at the nurse, expecting the worst.

"How is he?" Mikey's mouth almost dropped at how hoarse Rye sounded. How broken his best friend was and it tore him apart knowing he couldn't do anything to help. Because he knew that Rye needed Andy.

"He's alive. Which is good. He lost a lot of blood so it's lucky that you brought him in when you did. Few minutes later and we would have probably lost him"

Mikey felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his chest. Andy was alive. He was going to be ok. He glanced over to Rye, who had his eyes shut and fingers pressed against his lips.

"Can we see him?" Mikey asked, excitement starting to fill him up. All he wanted to do was give Andy a hug. His face dropped as he heard the nurse sigh.

"Unfortunately, due to the amount of blood he lost, Mr Fowler has slipped into a coma. His brain is unable to get the amount of blood it needs to..."

Rye zoned out from what the nurse was saying. A loud buzzing distorting all sound. Andy was alive. And that's all that mattered to him.

"Can I see him?" He asked quietly, interrupting whatever Mikey was asking the nurse. The nurse nodded at Rye.

"Yeah. Of course. Room 234" He said, a sad smile on his face.

Rye stood up and walked off, leaving Mikey to talk to the nurse. He walked past each room, noting the numbers in his head.

'229, 230, 231, 232, 233...234'

He stood with his hand on the door. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before pushing it open.

The first sound he heard was the quiet beeping of the heart monitor. He cringed slightly, almost wishing he had never come in here in the first place. He walked over to the bed, feeling sick at the sight.

Andy had several wires going into his arms. He looked pale and sick, the bags underneath his eye's more prominent then ever. His lips were cracked and dry and his arm was wrapped in a tight white bandage.

It broke Rye. But he had to hold it together. Because Andy was alive. Unconscious, but alive. And Rye was so thankful for it.

He sat down in one of the plastic chairs next to Andy's bed. One hand went to intertwine their fingers, and the other to brushing hair off Andy's forehead.

"I-I'm here. Right beside you. I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner. They wouldn't let me in," Rye paused. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for. Andy couldn't respond to him. Help, he wasnt even sure if he could hear him. But he had to try. "Your diary. I have it here with me. I didn't-I couldn't read it. Not without knowing you're ok. Well not ok. But you know...alive."

"I'm going to read it now. Sitting next to you. It's only right I guess"

He put the small leather book on his lap, opening up the first page. With a shakes breath, he began to read.

Dear Ryan...