"Oh," was all Lorcan could bring himself to say.
A steady drip of water spilled over the edge of a table, flooding a pile of red-tinged rags. The soft drip, drip, drip was sending the entire world crashing down, one piece at a time, and Lorcan thought he might explode.
"Missed you, too," said Hugo, reaching up with a trembling hand to rub his bloodshot eyes.
Dazed, Lorcan stepped past his friends, barely conscious of his surroundings. His heart fluttered in his chest and he wasn't sure it could manage even a full beat. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered until he fit into the narrow space at the side of the hospital bed, until he held Hugo's bruised face between his hands, fingers brushing over his freckled skin as though making sure he wasn't dreaming.
"You're an idiot," he said softly. Hugo managed a weak smile, intertwining his fingers with Lorcan's, almost drifting away. Lorcan kept going. "I told you not to go there - Hugo, I thought you were going to - "
He stopped abruptly. A heavy silence drifted over the room until even his thoughts began to dissipate. He closed his eyes, but images burned the back of his eyes like flashes of the sun - blood-soaked bandages that he tried desperately not to look at, the fabric stained red, and cuts that were already beginning to scar. Through the quiet, he heard the haunting chorus of cries that sang through the empty corridors as they had waited outside the room, sickly and unsympathetic.
"I'm right here," said Hugo, and Lorcan had to remind himself that this wasn't a ghost. He couldn't feel his heart beating as Hugo leaned up to kiss him, couldn't hear the fear that was digging its claws into him. In those short moments, Lorcan knew only a few things for certain - that Hugo was alive, really, it wasn't a dream. And as he kissed Hugo back as though the world was about to end, he was sure that his feelings were digging further and further into his heart. Hugo was the first to pull away, leaning his head against Lorcan's. "I'm here. Promise."
This was it, thought Lorcan, this was what it was like to die. If death could be so sweet, he hardly minded.
"You fucking better be here," said Lily, reminding Lorcan quite abruptly that they weren't alone. He shifted away, just slightly, enough that he could still hold Hugo's hand between his own, feeling the gentle pulse of his wrist and ignoring the way Louis rolled his eyes at them (as if there wasn't a smile on his face, despite it all).
Lily flung herself onto the bed on Hugo's other side, throwing an arm around him in a violent hug. He winced, reaching a hand around Lily to reciprocate the hug the best he could.
"Lily, be careful," Isla warned her, worry cutting through her voice no matter how hard she tried to fight it.
"Oh, right." Lily leaned back, a relieved smile settling into her features. She watched Hugo with wonder, the way she watched the dragons soar above her when she first visited Romania - like Hugo was made of pure magic, from head to toe, every last cell aching with it. "Sorry, er, did that hurt?"
"Little late to ask," muttered Hugo. He straightened up a bit, leaning against the bed's headboard. Pulling the blankets up with him, he continued, "I'll live. Well, probably."
"Not funny!" Lily huffed, crossing her arms. "If you weren't injured, I would punch you. Hard."
Louis joined them, sitting at the end of the bed and pulling the stiff hospital blanket around his shoulders like a shock blanket. With a tired smile, he shoved Lily gently and said, "Do it anyway, coward."
"Don't tempt her," said Lorcan.
"Yeah, Lou, don't tempt me," Lily repeated in a sing-song voice, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. In the silence that followed, she relaxed further into the bed, the smile fading from her expression. Hesitantly, she said, "Hugo, what -" she cut off, but the question was obvious.
