Warning: sad boi, kinda hints at suicide ig?
Y/n's POV
After breakfast, I explained to Emma what happened, and she, of course, agreed to let me go to the hospital to see Rich. I didn't mention the whole supercomputer-in-his-brain thing, but I did mention the fire and how Rich was my friend.
We walked into the hospital, me being the personification of nervousness. I hated hospitals. In order for someone to go to the hospital, they need to be hurt. I didn't like being hurt.
Michael walked up to the front desk, smiling at the lady behind it. "Hi, we're here to see the kid who was in that fire last night..."
"Oh, Jake Dillinger. Very popular guy, isn't he? He's had--"
"No," I cut her off. "Rich Goranski, actually."
She raised an eyebrow at me. "Oh, Mr. Goranski? Well, sign in right here."
Michael and I signed our names on the lines and walked to Rich's room. Rich was sitting in bed with both of his legs in casts, plus most of his torso, but only one of his arms. His face was fine but was clearly very burned. There were no parents or family members, just a nurse who was adjusting some medical thing I didn't know about.
"Are you lost?" the nurse asked.
"No, we're here to see Rich Goranski," Michael said, placing a hand on my back and pushing me into the room.
"Oh!" the nurse said. "Well, he's asleep right now."
"I-is he in a coma?" I asked nervously, sitting down in one of the chairs. Michael sat next to me.
"No," said the nurse with a smile. "It's nine thirty in the morning. He's sleeping."
"Oh," I said, staring at him.
"Would you like to be alone with him?" she asked.
"Not if you're doing something important," Michael said.
"Oh, it can wait till later," she assured us. She walked out of the room, leaving Michael and me with the unconscious Rich. Michael glanced at me.
"Well? Now what do you want to do?"
"I don't know. We shouldn't wake him up. Maybe just wait here until he wakes up."
"Okay," said Michael, taking out his phone and beginning to do whatever on it. I didn't get out my phone. I didn't read my book, which I had brought along (actually I brought a second book because I was almost finished). I just sat and watch Rich sleep. Okay, that sounds creepier than it was.
I sat like that for what felt like a few minutes before Michael said, "Y/n? I think I'm gonna head home."
I glanced up at him. "Why?"
"I never went home last night. Heck, Y/n, I'm still wearing your clothes." I glanced at him with a smile. He was. My old sweatshirt I got from a previous foster dad with Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon cover on it and a pair of jeans I got from the mens' section because my phone could actually fit into the pockets. Heck, I could practically fit a book in those pockets.
"Yeah," I said. "You should go home. Your moms are probably worried."
"Yeah...they definitely are. Also, they made the same assumption as your foster mom but did not have as care-free of a reaction."
I laughed. "Yeah, tell them I say hi."
He rolled his eyes. "I will."
He stood up to leave, but I stopped him. "Thank you, Michael." I stood up to kiss the top of his head.
