monachopsis.

n i n e

pain.

it's the first thing corbyn's hazy brain registers.

everywhere.

then a scream.

a loud, wrenching scream, enough to shatter glass and burst eardrums.

corbyn faintly realises that he's the one screaming.

the scream shreds his throat, ripping and tearing its way from his mouth, bringing nurses and doctors into the room.

"corbyn, i need you to calm down," a female voice says. "are you in pain?"

corbyn wills himself to stop screaming, to open his eyes. he succeeds, somehow, and manages a nod, the movement threatening to split his brain open as a fresh bolt of pain rushes through his head.

"all right, i'm putting morphine into your i.v. thank you for calming down." she finishes and sets the needle aside. "the doctor will be in soon"

then she exits, leaving corbyn alone.

he closes his eyes wearily as the morphine spreads throughout his body, relaxing him struggles to remember what happened, to figure out why he's here. a vague memory of headlights slicing through the rain and a gentle voice enters his mind, and he winces as it all comes back to him.

"corbyn besson?" a voice says, and a young doctor approaches his bedside. "i'm dr. horan. do you have any recollection of why you're here?"

"yes," corbyn replies softly, his throat sore and scratchy.

"wonderful, that means your concussion wasn't too severe. you're very lucky to be alive, mr. besson; you both are."

"the other driver is okay?"

"yes, mr. avery is fine. he swerved to avoid your car, and the bed of his truck spun out and hit your car. he wasn't injured at all, but he feels terrible that you were," dr. horan responds, glancing down at the clipboard in his hand. "you have a few broken ribs, one of which punctured your left lung. we managed to repair it, but you really should avoid any strenuous activity. you have a minor concussion, which we've already treated you for, and a shattered collarbone that we've pieced back together and reinforced with a  steel plate."

"thank you so much," corbyn says genuinely, leaning his head back against the pillows and closing his eyes.

"of course. also, there are a few people waiting outside who want to see you. your emergency contact jonah marais, daniel seavey, zach herron, and mr. avery."

corbyn's eyes fly open, and he sits up straight, immediately regretting it as his head pulsates with pain. "not jonah. please keep him out of here. i don't want to see him."

"i'll make sure security knows," dr. horan says gently. "and the others?"

"yeah, they're fine."

"i'll let them in, then. did you have anyone else you wanted to call? i noticed that there was no contact information for your parents listed in your emergency medical information."

corbyn bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, shaking his head and swiping his tongue across his lip to clear away the red, metallic-tasting liquid. "no. um, no parents, either."

"my apologies, mr. besson. i'll go fetch the others, now."

dr. horan bustles away, leaving corbyn alone, and corbyn basks in the relative silence. the hospital bed is warm and comfortable, and he closes his eyes again, his lids weighed down by exhaustion. he drifts off for a moment, only to be woken by a soft hand on his cheek.

"corbyn?" a gentle voice says, and corbyn struggles to open his eyes, dragging them open despite how desperately tired he is.

"daniel," he murmurs, and daniel smiles. his eyes are beautiful, corbyn thinks, and he bites his lip and shoves the thought away as daniel speaks again.

"hey. i'm so glad you're okay. we were on the phone when it happened, and i heard everything and called 911. do you remember talking to me?"

corbyn moves his head in a slight nod. "yeah, i remember everything."

"that's good," daniel says, relief clear in his voice. "um, you didn't sound okay when we were talking, and i just want you to know that i'm still here if you ever need someone."

corbyn looks into his eyes. they're clear and bright, and it's obvious his offer is sincere. "thank you."

"corbyn! oh my fucking god, i'm so sorry," zach wails, barrelling into the room. he's followed by a curly haired boy who looks uncomfortable and out of place. "i should have come and picked you up, but i was being stupid, and now you're hurt, and i'm so sorry, i love you."

corbyn curls his arms around the younger boy as he buries his face in his neck, letting his chin rest on zach's head. "it's okay, z. you were right, about everything."

zach pulls away, and corbyn can tell that he's been crying. his eyes are puffy and his cheeks are redder than normal, dried tear tracks marking his face. "um, jo is in the waiting room. he's an absolute wreck. i've never seen him like this before."

corbyn feels a pang in his heart at the thought of jonah being distraught because of him. jonah cheated on him, but surely that doesn't mean he doesn't love him anymore. does it?

"oh, and this is jack avery," zach continues, tugging the curly haired boy over. "he was the driver of the truck that hit your car."

"i'm so sorry," jack blurts. "there was an old lady walking her dog, and i swerved to give her some room, and i saw your car too late, and i tried to swerve again but my back tires slipped on the wet pavement, and i hit your car, and i'm so sorry!"

corbyn gives him a tired, reassuring smile. "it wasn't your fault, jack. thank you for apologising, i really appreciate it."

"yeah, of course. i could never just walk away," jack says, wide-eyed. "i'm so glad you're not severely injured."

"me too," corbyn says softly, his eyes drifting closed against his will.

"we need to let him sleep," he faintly hears daniel whisper, and there's the shuffling of footsteps exiting the room. the chair beside his bed creaks, and the last thing corbyn's mind registers before he's asleep is a warm hand sliding into his.