fools x tony stonem [completed]

thirty one // season two

6 months later

The old Tony Stonem was gone, replaced with someone I didn't even recognize. When he woke up from his coma, after suffering a subdural hematoma from the accident, we knew he wouldn't be the same. But no one really knew how different he truly would be, and no one was really prepared for it. He couldn't speak at first, couldn't walk, couldn't eat solid foods, couldn't control his hands or fingers. I'd wait by his hospital bed, trying to talk to him, trying to draw any emotion out of him, but would only ever be met by his dull stare. There were times when I had to excuse myself to the bathroom, and I'd lock myself in a stahl and cry.

He made slow progress everyday; he could now walk, and eat solid foods as long as they were cut into little pieces. He could also talk now, but having a conversation with him was drastically different than before. His brain was that of a child's, and he had developed a small stutter. At times I'd forget he wasn't the same, and I'd say something sarcastically, like I was always so used to doing with Tony, but he didn't really understand the figure of speech. I had to explain, to Tony Stonem, once the most sarcastic man on earth, the meaning of sarcasm.

When he came home for the hospital, his parents were apprehensive on letting him leave the house without their supervision. But with lots of convincing from Tony's friends and I, he was allowed to leave the house under our close supervision.

I sat beside Tony in a chapel that Maxxie and his friends were using to rehearse a dance they'd been working on. I watched Maxxie, in absolute awe by the way he moved his body while dancing, but Tony couldn't be any less interested. He sat up straight beside me, his hands placed delicately on his thighs, and he stared at the floor.

"What do you think?" I ask him. He doesn't respond, his attention still to the floor. "Tone?"

He lifts his head, dull eyes meeting mine slowly.

"What?" He mutters. "Think of what?"

"Maxxie's dancing," I tell him, nodding over to where Maxxie leaped across the floor. Tony's eyes met Maxxie's figure, almost like he was just now noticing.

"It's okay," is all he says.

Maxxie and his dancers finish the dance with a dramatic fall to the floor, before the three of them cheer at the dance they had just perfected. They banter for a moment, before one of the dancers attacks her boyfriend with smothering kisses, so Maxxie leaves them too it, jogging over to Tony and I.

"What do you both think of that, then?" Maxxie gloats. "Me, Jonno, and Kel worked out the moves."

"It was amazing, Maxxie," I smile. "You're amazing. Tony thought it was good too."

Maxxie's eyes go to Tony, who sits stiff as a board.

"Really?" Maxxie asks, a grin stretching ear to ear.

"Yeah," Tony agrees in a monotone voice. "Good."

"Good," Maxxie says. He reaches beside me, grabbing the hand towel that sat on the bench next to me, and he wipes the sweat from his forehead. "Let's go back to mine, yeah? My moms made lunch."

We hop on a bus, and Tony sits between Maxxie and I. I lean my head against the cold window, staring out at the street that becomes a blur as the bus zooms into motion. Maxxie taps his fingers against his thigh to some random beat he had playing in his head, while Tony remains completely still and quiet.

As we pass another bus that flys past my window, the bus blares it's horn in a form of greeting. Tony jumps in his seat, gripping Maxxie and I's hands for dear life. His breathing becomes heavy and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, a panic attack setting in from the ptsd from his accident.