Cold, gray dawn is what woke Alex up the next morning. And for a moment, he thought it was a horrible dream, he would roll over and see her there, sleeping with her mouth slightly open, her long hair a mess around her face, and the Blink-182 shirt she used as a pajama top would be barely visible over the comforter. So he prayed, and rolled over. But he was wrong.
Instead, he found one of her jackets that he got in the middle of the night. He didn't move from the bed, and instead, curled up to her jacket, burying his nose in it and smelling her perfume, a tear sliding from his eye and dampening the gray hood of her Toms hoodie. Finding the strength, he got up from the bed and looked at himself in the mirror.
Horrible was an understatement. His eyes were still bloodshot and slightly swollen from the other night, the stubble gave him a homeless look, and his hair looked greasy and in need of a serious washing. Ambling to the shower, he took one as fast as he could, ignoring all the shampoos and body washes that he once complained about taking up so much space. Alex had decided he would let the whole bathroom be full of whatever girly smelling body washes she wanted if she would be okay.
Getting out and drying off, he grabbed his phone and called Jack. “Dude, where were you last night? There was a party an-”
“She's in the hospital, Jack.”
“Woah, what?” Alex explained the situation, and there was a long pause on the other end. Jack and her were like brother and sister, constantly pestering each other, but always there for each other when they needed each other. It was an adorable, although sometimes annoying relationship. “Holy shit, dude. So, the hospital over on third?”
“Yeah.”
“I'll meet you over there after I call Zack and Rian.”
“Thanks.” He promptly hung up and got dressed, much more than just his sleep pants and a dirty shirt.
Back in the hospital, things weren't much better. The doctor, whom he learned was Dr. McNamara, updated him on her status. “There was no spinal injuries or bleeding in the brain, or swelling for that matter, which is an excellent sign. We repaired her femur, but there's nothing we can do about her ribs, they have to heal on their own. The cuts have been stitched, but she had to have emergency surgery to remove the spleen, it was too damaged, and we missed the fact she has a broken wrist.” The doctor took in a deep breath, looking down to the floor and then back up. Alex already knew that was a bad sign. “I'm afraid...we don't know if she will wake up.”
“You mean when, she wakes up, not if, right?” The look on the doctor's face told him he hadn't made a mistake when he spoke.
The rest of the day, Alex stayed in the hospital next to the bed. Jack, Rian, and Zack showed up thirty minutes later, and the looks on their faces were heartbreaking. The skunk haired man running to his best friend's side, his lower lip quivering as he looked back and forth to them. “Jesus christ, you said it was bad...I didn't think...” His voice trailed off, setting his hand on the man's shoulder and squeezing it, the leather bunching under his fingers. They stayed and talked with their singer, asking how he was doing and taking everything, and asked about her condition. He told as much as he could. Before they left, they all said something and kissed her gauze padded forehead.
