《As It Was》


 accident

    Henry

    I remembered the day it all happened like it had occurred just seconds ago. Every time I closed my eyes, I would remember the uneasy clench my stomach gave as I wake to my phone ringing sinfully loud in the early morning.

    It was that sickening feeling that crept up your spine when you just knew something was wrong.

    Mrs. Lee''s voice rang through my ears, frantic and hurried, tears choking her as she tried to voice the most painful ones I''d ever heard.

    "Chandler''s been in an accident-" she started, a sob wracking through her as she sniffled silently, "he''s-he''s out cold." Her voice shook.

    I didn''t know what to say or how to react. Nobody ever thinks anything bad will happen before it does. He''d been out drinking with colleagues earlier that night. His deep, honey-like voice still echoed in my head and thrummed through my veins.

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    "C''mon, Henry," he''d said, "why don''t you come with me? None of the guys will mind if I bring you along."

    He''d tried to get me to go out with him and some of his buddies from work. The few of his friends from work that I''d met were perfectly nice, but I was never one to intrude. Also, pubs and drinking aren''t really my thing.

    The thing is, Chandler Lee is responsible. He knows his limit, and he knows when and where it''s okay to cross it. I knew from the beginning that the accident wasn''t due to him being intoxicated, but due to someone else.

    "Where are you?" My voice was raspy with sleep, words caught thick in my throat. Anxiety bit at the skin no longer covered by my warm blankets as I sprang up from bed once I''d realized that what was happening was not a dream, not just a horrible nightmare, but reality.

    If only it had been a dream. I wouldn''t be here for the second week, the fourteenth day in a row, staring at his body from this uncomfortable chair next to the hospital bed.

    If only he was awake and showing that gleaming, brighter than a million stars smile that he was known for.

    If only his mind were free instead of trapped in this seemingly inescapable wrath of sleep.

 abyss

    Chandler

    I don''t know how exactly it happened.

    Everything was fine. I was driving down the highway, only about a mile away from the exit leading to town.

    Then, everything went dark. The impact of the hit shook my bones. What one would expect to be the most painful feeling imaginable was nothing of the sort. My eyes saw nothing, and my body was numb.

    The last thing I heard through a fuzzy static was the sound of footsteps running toward me and the hazy siren of an ambulance in the distance.

    After that, everything had been different. I couldn''t open my eyes. I couldn''t move my hands or legs or head and, worst of all, I couldn''t move my lips.

    They kept asking me, "Mr. Lee," frantically, "can you hear us?" Over and over again.

    It was an endless mantra. The worst part was that, even though I could hear them, I couldn''t tell them so.

    I could think; I could formulate thoughts and words and feelings, but I couldn''t express them.

    I knew by then what was going on. I was stuck an a hellish place between asleep and awake- I was unconscious.

    Although I could feel, it was mostly mental for the first few days. Then, I started to be able to feel a slight tingle in my fingers when someone touched me. I only knew the day had passed into the night when a nurse would come in and speak to me for a minute. She sounded old, voice frail and aged in the most comforting way.

    Nobody knew if I could hear them, or if I was even more than just an empty shell at that point. The point is, is that she still tried. She would tuck me in slightly, murmuring a good night and good morning. If it weren''t for that, then I would''ve thought it all was just one never-ending nightmare that I hadn''t yet woke up from.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    My family visited often, mostly my mother and father at first. Then, my brother came eventually. We''d always been close, but getting older meant that we both had our own lives and we didn''t see much of each other anymore.

    I remember the sound of my mother''s sobs next to my bed, and the sound of Sam trying to console her, but even his own voice was thick with pain, betraying his strong words.

    The most painful thing, however, was when they''d go home. Nobody knew when or if I''d be up. The medical staff expressed their concerns on the matter and, for lack of better words, said that it was a waiting game. There was nothing they could do to make me wake up. The trauma to my head from the crash had done damage, but they said it could''ve been much worse. I''d thought I was alone, and I didn''t know when anyone would be back to see me.

    A big part of me hoped that they wouldn''t be back to see me so soon. I didn''t want them to see me lying there looking like I was an inch away from death. I didn''t want them to hurt anymore than they already did.

    But then, I felt it.

    A chair somewhere to my left, seemingly close, scraped against the floor. Then, someone sat down. It must have been late into the night by that point and I didn''t know who it was until I heard that worried, exhausted sigh that I knew like the back of my hand. The tone, the way the breath escaped his mouth, it was the same as when we were little.

    "Chan," he started, voice cracking around the edges and splintering through my heart all the same, "I tried-" he paused, voice shaking, breath stuttering out of his throat, "I tried to come in and see you earlier, but they wouldn''t let me. T-they said only family was allowed."

    Something tightened around my left hand, squeezing and shaking slightly. If I''d been able to fully feel it, I know it''d felt warm and soft, comforting, and full of care just as it always had, just like he always had.

    "Chandler," he muttered, whimpering lowly from next to me. I felt something press on my chest. The weight was refreshing and not enough all at once. It reminded me that I was in fact alive, that I wasn''t completely numb after all like the white blur all around me was trying to make me think "please be okay."

    He repeated it over and over. His voice was closer to me than before, and I then knew that the weight on my chest was his head. He''d been pressed close to me, begging me to be okay, to wake up and be better.

    If only I could do just that.

    What hurt the most was that I couldn''t reach down and stroke the back of his head and twist my fingers in the soft locks of his chestnut hair just the way that always calmed him down the quickest.

    I couldn''t wrap my arms around him and tell him that I could hear him, that I knew it wasn''t his fault that he couldn''t see me until then- that I wasn''t mad at him.

    As he sobbed into my chest, body wracking with uncontrollable pain, I could only lay there, still as a rock on the hospital bed.

    I could only scream in my head, over and over again until my brain forced me to give up.

    Henry, I hear you.

 sleeping beauty

    Henry

    The white walls around us were suffocating. They seemed to mock you, staring through your eyes and into the very bottom of your soul.

    They were too blank, too modern. There was no comfort, decoration, or color.

    The only sound was the steady beep of Chandler''s heart rate monitor. At first, I''d spend hours staring at that damned screen, watching each rise and fall of his pulse and drink in the sound of each beat. It was the only reminder that he was in fact still alive, even if he looked the opposite.

    The head nurse had come in to speak to me earlier in the morning, just a few minutes after I''d arrived. She''d thought Chandler''s mother was the one signed in as visiting but instead walked in to see me sitting beside him, quiet as always. I''d started to feel that if I made too much noise, I''d be disturbing a sort of sacred peace surrounding the sleeping boy on the bed.

    Sure, it was stupid. It wasn''t like he could just wake up due to a loud noise and shake off the coma as if it never happened, but I wanted to be able to do something-anything to keep him comfortable. I didn''t know if he could hear me, or if he even knew he wasn''t alone, but I wanted to surround him in a bubble of safety and hide him away from anything that could possibly disturb his gently closed eyes and parted lips.

    "Dr. Perez received Mr. Lee''s most recent MRI scan results," she''d stated, her voice gentle, "There...isn''t any news. His brain activity is still solid, but it''s unknown when or if he''ll be up anytime soon."

    My chest deflated, and my eyes fell shut against my will. I felt her frail hand clasp my shoulder, softly patting in a way that I''m sure she assumed to be comforting. I didn''t need pity. I wasn''t the one lying unconscious on a hospital bed for the fourth week in a row.

    An entire month.

    He''d been in a coma for a whole month.

    I wasn''t the one standing somewhere between life and death, Chan was.

    I turned my head, swallowing down the lump that was trying so desperately to form in my throat, "What does that mean?" I looked at Chandler''s motionless form next to me, and then back to her soft brown eyes, "He could still wake up, right?" My voice had gone slightly frantic, the thought of losing him for good making my pulse spike and a cold sweat line my hairline.

    She looked at me with a small, sad smile on her thin lips, clasping her hands in front of her and taking a step toward the door, "...Does Mr. Lee have a chosen Health Care Proxy?" She looked down for a moment, shutting her eyes slightly and then blinking back up to me.

    My heart crashed through my ribcage and down into my stomach. My throat seemed to close as her words hit me.

    Health Care Proxy?

    How should I know? Neither of us had ever been in such a serious health situation before, and I assumed that his parents were the ones he trusted most to make such drastic decisions involving his health if he wasn''t able to do so himself.

    "I don''t know," I told her, my eyes rimmed with fresh tears as I thought of my best friend on the bed next to me. I wondered if he could hear the conversation. I wondered what he was thinking.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    "Well," she started, taking a deep breath, "Doctor Perez will be getting in touch with Mr. Lee''s family to decide what measures to take shortly. Have a good day, sir." With that, she left the room, closing the pristine white door behind her and leaving me with the endless flow of horrible thoughts that stuck in my mind like a stain that I couldn''t scrub away.

    Why would she ask about a Health Care Proxy? People can be in a coma for months and still wake up, right? I read about it somewhere years ago, although now I cursed myself mentally and wished I''d paid more attention to that story. Why would she talk about taking drastic measures this early on?

    I had too many questions and not enough answers. I knew she was only doing her job, but I couldn''t fathom the thought of somebody simply signing a form that decided Chandler''s fate.

    We can''t give up.

    It doesn''t matter how long it takes. He''ll wake up. He has to wake up.

    I know he''ll wake up. Then everything could go back to normal.

    A tear rolled down my cheek, betraying me as it dripped down onto my jeans. I rested my head in my hands, elbows propped against my thighs. I didn''t want to cry anymore. I''d cried so much in the past month that you could surely fill a running river with my tears. It didn''t make me feel any better, it just made me feel even more useless. It was a reminder that there was nothing I could possibly do to fix things.

    I looked at him, the steady rise and fall of his chest doing nothing to ease the sickness I felt in my gut. It hurt so bad. I watched him almost every day. I barely ate, barely slept, and when I had to go back to the magazine firm to work, it was only then that I''d force myself to leave.

    My own bed felt foreign to me. My body had become more accustomed to the hard chair propped next to Chan''s hospital bed than my own home.

    On days where his family would visit, I''d give them privacy. They didn''t need to see another person crying over their son; they didn''t need any more pain. After the first couple of weeks, I couldn''t take seeing his parents and brother sitting there, just waiting.

    Waiting for any sign of movement, any flutter of an eye or twitch of a finger. The disappointment that left with them each time ate me from inside out, so much that I''d stop showing during times I knew they''d be there. I couldn''t bear to see Mrs. Lee''s eyes filled with so much pain that they dissolved into an empty void. I couldn''t watch as her husband would shake his head in defeat and shock, embracing her as she sobbed into his chest. It was a sick reminder that this was all real.

    I''d gotten mental health leave from work for the most part. Luckily my boss had been understanding enough and knew how much of an impact that the situation was having on me. However, a couple of days a week, for a few hours, I''d go back to work. I''d sit at my desk and edit some articles or research and help out with anything else I could get my hands on.

    It offered a small sense of normalcy in the huge, giant black hole that I''d been trapped in. If I worked hard enough, if I read enough articles and wrote enough manuscripts, it almost felt like before.

    On Fridays, it almost felt like I''d get a call from Chandler asking when I was coming over for movie night and what food I wanted to have for dinner.

    But then 5 pm would hit and it would all come crashing back to me, punching a hole through my chest and strangling my lungs.

    The only calls or messages I would get were from his parents or his bother, checking up on me or giving me any news they''d heard from doctors.

    Nothing was how it was before- the morning was back to normal. This was a reality.

    Chan wasn''t calling me, an evident smile on his full cherry lips I could practically feel through the speaker and a crinkle at the corner of his almond eyes.

    Those honey eyes were shut, and those usually plump, luscious lips had gotten chapped. His warm skin had taken a paler hue, less golden and more white, closer to mine. His raven hair lay ruffled like a dark halo around his head, painting a shadow on the ivory pillow underneath him. His bangs dipped into his eyes, having grown in the time he''d been asleep, and as I brushed it away from his forehead, I couldn''t help but let my fingers linger on his skin.

    He was still so soft. It didn''t matter that he hadn''t seen the sun in weeks, or that he lay still for so long that I was sure if I moved him he would crack. He was still so warm, so soothing to touch. He was still my Chandler; my best friend since primary school, and the one I loved more than I could ever tell him- my everything.

    At that moment, if I had a blank canvas and a brush, I would paint him how he was before, when he was healthy and awake and towering inches taller than me, looking at me with those soft eyes and that permanent goofy smirk etched onto his lips.

    I would paint him how I want to remember him, not how I see him now. I wouldn''t pain the empty shell of a man I saw lying there, hooked up to monitors and resting unnervingly still.

    A part of me worried that the man I once knew was gone and that he was only a memory. It felt like he was starting to dissipate- like his body was still here, but his mind was somewhere completely different.

    All I need is him. If I couldn''t see that smile again, then at least I could still see those lips.

    If I couldn''t see those eyes staring into mine again, then at least I could still see those eyelashes casting a ghost of a shadow onto his cheeks.

    If I can''t feel his warm embrace, then at least I can hold his hand, even if he can''t squeeze back.

    Even if he never came back the same, if he lay here asleep for eternity, I would stay here.

    I would continue to see him every day, to touch him and talk to him. I''d let him know that I''m here and that he''s not alone, that I still believe in him; that I''m still waiting for him to wake up.

    It doesn''t matter how he changes from this moment forward. If I can''t get him back to how he was before, then I''d adapt to the new him. I won''t give up. He won''t give up.

    As long as his heart still beat, I''d stay there watching over that precious sleeping beauty until my own stopped.

 i chose you

    Chandler

    It was like floating in an endless sea, flying over the clouds, and free-falling off of a cliff all at once-  like hearing and feeling everything but knowing nothing at the same time.

    I noticed things suddenly that I never did before. With my sight covered by a constant white haze, touch and sound were all I had to rely on.

    There were times when I faded in and out, like a vintage stereo that couldn''t get tuned just right.

    In a way, it was refreshing. At first, I didn''t know if I was dead or alive, but when I heard the fuzzy bustle of medical staff around me day after day and heard murdered voices of those I loved, I knew I wasn''t completely gone. At least, not yet.

    Then, I started to be able to pick up sounds more clearly. Everything was sharper, more vivid. It was like somebody pulled out the cotton that had been in my ears, allowing me to hear everything in its raw, untainted form.

    The faint, cloudy murmurs formed into full sentences, making sense and containing meaning. In a sick, twisted way that felt selfish, it made things worse. I heard every word the doctors said, and I heard the responses of my family and friends. I had to hear their cries and distressed voices ghost around me until it all faded back out and I was gone again. I had to hear the reminder that, once again, there was no news. I had to listen as they tried to force hope down my loved ones'' throats when it was obvious that even they were losing patience in the matter.

    However, it always came back, and it was getting more frequent. Before, I''d only been able to pick up on a few things on and off until I was sucked back under the inevitable sleep my body was trapped in. Now, I could stay for longer, and I was able to remember bits and pieces of things I''d previously heard.

    It was like my brain was trying to wake me up, piece me together like a puzzle. It started with my ears, and traveled to my fingers, letting me feel again.

    Despite the hope I so desperately was clutching onto, I was filled to the brim with worry. What if there''s a missing piece to this puzzle? What if I can''t get out back together just right? What if I''m never the same again?

    It felt  like, although my body was working to awaken, my fate was in my own unmoving hands. If I gave up, so would my soul. My mind would turn off and go numb, and my heart would cease its beating.

    I couldn''t  let that happen. I have far too much to live for.

    I heard them all around me in that moment of haze. I heard  my mother humming absently as she stroked my head, and I was able to make out my father''s foot tapping insistently on the surely cold, shiny floor beneath us. He always did that when he was anxious.

    I also picked up on the gentle, steady breathing of Henry to my left. It was subtle, and barely-there if you didn''t focus on it. Him just being there helped settle the anxiety nestled deep in my gut. If I woke up- I had to wake up, I swore I''d thank him every day for staying by my side; for never giving up on me when it was clear that everyone else was beginning to.

    They would never admit it, but I could tell that my parents were no longer in denial. They''d been pushed into icy water, a cinderblock chained to their ankles, drowning into reality with no way back up to the surface of false hope and fake comfort. They faced the cold truth.

    Their responses had become less frantic, and more knowing. My mother no longer sobbed endlessly as she saw me unmoving day after day, visit after visit. My father no longer tried to talk to me after she left the room, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I could hear him.

    My brother stopped being able to come every day, and then he ceased coming most days altogether. They said if something changed, they''d let him know. I can''t blame him. What''s the use of waiting around for something that might not even happen? He had his own family to take care of.

    The door opened with a creak, and a series of confident footsteps that I learned were Dr. Perez'' echoed through the room. I''d heard him greet my parents and Henry before settling somewhere to my right. I suppose I seemed to have good timing when it came to ''waking up''.

    "So," he started, clearing his throat and rustling through papers that I could only assume were my files, "we should discuss any further steps that may be needed to take, Mrs. and Mr. Lee." I heard my mother make a sound of understanding, urging him to continue, "I see that you''ve gotten a hold of your son''s records, and it has been noted that Chandler has chosen a Health Care Proxy and filled out the forms a couple of years ago." I heard mumbles of understanding again before he paused.

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    An eerie silence enveloped the room, and I wished nothing more than to open my eyes and scream to stop; to stop talking about this because I can hear and I could wake up- I had to try my best. I just needed some more time. I wanted to scream at everyone to please be more patient; to not lose hope in me just yet.

    I couldn''t. Instead, I had to lay there and listen as he continued.

    "It says here on our copy that his chosen Health Care Proxy is Henry Sallow, is that correct?" he questioned. I heard a low gasp from my left and the chair squared as it was pushed backward.

    "W-what?" Henry''s voice rang out weak and frail in the empty coldness of the room. I hadn''t told him that I''d put his name down. It was mandatory as part of a college trip contract I''d gone on during our Freshman year. I didn''t actually expect anything like this to happen at any point, "What are you talking about? He never said anything to me- are you sure?" I heard him collapse back into the chair, weak and voice shaking.

    Please, don''t be mad at me.

    "Mr. Sallow," Dr. Kim stated, keeping his voice low and steady, "By law, you are the one Mr. Lee has chosen to make any further decisions regarding his health now that he cannot speak and voice his wishes himself. As you all know, we hoped that he would have given us some sign of oncoming consciousness by now. A patient must be in a persistent vegetative state for at least one month before we can truly grasp the situation, and it has unfortunately reached that time for Mr. Lee. We hoped to see promising changes, but that hasn''t been the case. The brain scans we''ve persistently run the past couple of weeks show little to no response to stimuli and Chandler''s neurological activity hasn''t changed much at all.." his voice wavered off, giving them time to take in information.

    I heard him step away from my side and move toward the opposite side of the room to where my parents were before he continued, "He may very well progress into a different state of unconsciousness, which we cannot necessarily prove easily. He may be experiencing something called Locked-In Syndrome. In this case, about twenty percent of patients can somewhat hear and feel their surroundings but are not able to respond. This is quite rare, but has occurred and is very possible. Nevertheless, it''s been one month of what could be many, so we urge you to wait a bit longer before making any drastic decisions. However, It''s up to you to decide when and if you''d like to let go. You may of course discuss with Mr. Lee''s family but the decision is legally yours to make." Henry was silent. He said nothing, the only sound being his shaky breath and frequent tapping of his foot against the floor. I could tell his mind was reeling.

    "Henry," my mother started, I could hear her stepping closer to him as she spoke, "This is obviously what he wanted. You have to stay calm, it''s alright. He trusted you. We know you''ll do the right thing. We trust you." I heard a shaky sob, and at first, I wasn''t sure who it was from. It wasn''t my father, and it was too low to be my mother''s.

    Don''t cry, Henry. Don''t cry for me, please. I chose you for a reason.

    "I-I don''t understand," his voice quivered, and I could imagine the tremble of his lips as his eyes welled with fresh, salty tears, "Why me? Why not one of you?" Nobody responded. Perhaps, they didn''t know what to say. After all, it wasn''t anyone else''s decision.

    Truth is, I didn''t choose my parents because it didn''t feel right.  I could never put that pressure on them. If my life was ever in their hands, it would kill them to let go. My brother had his own family now, and I couldn''t let him face that stress on his own. It had to be Henry, it had to. He knows me better than anyone; better than I know myself, I think.

    He''s always been there for me, ever since sixth grade. Ever since I''d got into a fight with a peer after school and he''d helped drag my bruised form to the nurse''s office, he always seemed to know what I needed. The small boy was a stranger at the time. He didn''t have to help me at all, but his heart was triple the size of his entire being. He was too good for this cruel world.

    He would know when it''s time to let go; when it''s okay to give up on me for good. After a decade of friendship, Henry understood me on a whole other plane. Like speaking telepathically, I often wouldn''t need to use words in order for him to catch on quickly. He knows what''s best for me, too. He wouldn''t keep me alive if he knew I was hurting. He wouldn''t let me live in a permanent state of misery.

    What I knew most of all is that he wouldn''t give up on me so soon. Not yet.

    I felt my chest rise and fall steadily, the machine I was hooked up to monitoring the pace. I wished desperately that someone would notice something- that maybe if I tried hard enough I could move a finger or grunt or do anything to get someone''s attention.

    As always, It didn''t work. No matter how hard I tried to move or scream or do anything but think, it was in vain. I''d heard Dr. Perez leave after bidding a respectful and professional goodbye. Then, my parents gathered their things after a while, and felt as my mother planted a kiss against my cool forehead. My father patted my shoulder and let his hand linger there for a moment before peeling it away and walking off. For some reason, it burned deep into my flesh, leaving searing pain. It felt like he was letting go of me more and more every time he would come.

    I could just barely make out my mother''s soothing voice as she tried to console Henry once more from next to me, trying her best to mend the wounds that were so clearly open and bleeding in front of her. He''d fallen silent. For a reason I don''t quite know, it was almost worse hearing him make no noise at all; like he was too numb to cry any longer.

    It was too much for him- too much for all of us. I hated the fact that I was the source of all of this pain. I was the cavity gnawing it''s way through the root and the poison damning the tree until it''s branches became infected.

    I''m sorry.

    "Are you leaving soon?" She questioned slowly and tentatively, his quiet sniffles dying down to almost none, "You really  should try to get some sleep."

    "No," he started, attempting to clear the emotion choking his tired, hoarse throat, "I''m gonna stay for a while." I heard his chair squeal against the floor as it was scooter closer to my bed, and felt two hands clasp around my own, squeezing gently.

    If he was willing to fight this hard for me, I''d match his effort and then some. I wouldn''t stop trying until he gave up on me.

    Long after her footsteps echoed out of the room, he stayed. He sat there next to me and combed back the hair on my forehead, fingers gentle and dainty, as if he was scared that I would crack at any moment. He cares so much. He always had.

    Why do you care so much? I surely didn''t deserve it.

    In the silent air, all I could hear was his gentle breathing. I wished he would talk. I wished he would say anything. My head started to get foggy, and I started to fade slowly at first, and then all at once as his fingers found their way into my hair, curling into my locks softly, the way that one would to a puppy that they were trying to soothe to sleep.

    As I succumbed to the inevitable haze once again, I couldn''t help but plead a final time, in hopes that maybe he would hear a drowsy ghost of a voice floating through the air like something out of a movie.

    Give me some more time, I can do this.

    Don''t give up on me.

 why

    Henry

    Everything felt numb.

    Looking at his motionless body, I couldn''t seem to stop wondering why.

    Why me? Why me, of all people you could choose to hold your life in their hands, why me?

    It never ceased to amaze me how his perfect complexion was still soft and even. Any normal person would look horrendous at this point. Their hair would be disheveled around their head, their lips pale and cracked, body an empty vessel.

    Chandler didn''t look like that. His dark hair splayed around him like a halo, reminding me just how perfect he actually is. His lips were still full- a little chapped, but still welcoming. His brows were laid perfectly straight and effortlessly groomed above his resting eyes.

    It made me wonder if he looked the same to everyone else, or if my love for him made me blind to reality. It couldn''t possibly. Chandler has always been loved by all. He was the boy that girls giggled about in the back of the classroom and the handsome young man that all guys wanted to be or be friends with.

    It always made me feel out of place. As he would hook his strong arm around my narrow shoulders after school, ready to walk home, I felt the stares of others. I didn''t have to be a mind-reader to know what they were always thinking; it was obvious. To make matters worse, I''d heard more than enough whispered insults floating through the air as we passed by our peers.

    ''What the hell is Chandler doing with him?''

    ''Chandler Lee and Henry Sallow are best friends? Of all people? What a pity party.''

    ''Who would''ve thought the prince would befriend a weirdo like him?''

    I understood them, though. Why would someone so perfect and popular possibly want to be friends with me? What did he have to gain?

    Nothing- I couldn''t give him anything.

    The only thing I had to offer was a promise that I''d always be there for him, day or night, no matter what. He''d promised me the same, and that meant everything. To me, his social status meant nothing. The Chandler Lee that others knew was still the sweet, cheeky, loving one that I did too. He was always himself; always real.

    All because I helped him walk to the nurse''s office that one day after he''d gotten into a brawl in the school yard, I thought he felt indebted to me. I hated it. I did what I did because it was the right thing to do. I didn''t know who started the fight at the time, but it didn''t matter. Robby Delgato was the biggest asshole in the grade, and everyone knew it. He picked fights for fun, simply to get a rise out of people. It didn''t surprise me when I found out later that he was the one who''d started it that day.

    In a selfish way, I''m thankful for that. Sure, I never want Chan to be in pain and I would never want him to go through any inconveniences, but that day is what brought us together.

    If I hadn''t stumbled across the scene after tutoring; if I hadn''t seen a group of boys running away as they heard someone coming, I doubt I ever would have spoken to him.

    �� ?? flashback ?? ��

    I slung the strap of my bookbag over my shoulder as I rounded the corner to a back alley of the school. It wasn''t the most scenic walk home, but it was faster to leave this way rather than walk through the main gates and have to go around the entire building.

    Just as I''d stepped into the cold and desolate alley, my ears were bombarded with shouts and disgruntled groans of discomfort. I stopped moving out of instinct, afraid of being seen.

    Sunlight flooded in from the opposite end of the alley, leaving the group of boys a mass of outlined shadows, their features blurry and their forms too far away to be distinguishable.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    I gulped as fists flew through the air, clashing into each other and pulling and yanking on shirts and neckties. I couldn''t tell how long the fight had been going on, but as I took a step backward to walk away from the scene, my foot kicked a pebble.

    I cursed inwardly, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping more than anything that they didn''t hear me. Instead of running at me full speed and knocking me to the ground as I expected, hurried footsteps clambered down on the pavement as about five or six boys ran the other direction, out of the alley, and hopped over the fence protecting the school property from the public.

    "Shit," one of them exclaimed, all confidence gone and worry thick in his voice before they scattered, "Somebody''s coming! Let''s go!" As soon as their bodies could no longer be seen, I was about to turn and leave, pretending I''d never seen anything. It would mean taking the long way home, but I didn''t know if there were more of them on the other side of the alley and the last thing I needed was to get into trouble with a bunch of rebellious pre-teens. I was about to turn on my heel when I noticed something slumped against the wall. I squinted and took one step closer, trying to analyze what it was.

    Then, a struggled cough wheezed out from the form against the brick wall, and I gasped, realizing that it was surely a person.

    Before I could think twice, I started toward the person, my pulse rabbiting in my neck. The early evening wind chilled my neck and face, the only skin not covered by my school uniform or coat. The dark alley felt ghostly and eerie as my pace quickened, a sick ache in the pit of my stomach. The closer I got, the more worried and anxious I became.

    As I came to a halt in front of the person, my breath caught in my throat. Seeing him up close, I vaguely recognized him. He had transferred to my homeroom class that semester. He was always surrounded by friends, and never got picked on by our teacher. His name was something that started with a ''C'', but I couldn''t remember exactly what. Christopher? Connor? Caleb, maybe?

    I didn''t know what to say. I couldn''t just stand there and continue to stare at him. I also couldn''t just walk away and pretended like he wasn''t there; like he wasn''t hurt.

    It was then when he raised his head, his narrow eyes meeting my own large, round ones. I swallowed, wincing as he was about to speak but doubled over in pain, grasping his side. I panicked slightly,

    "A-are you okay?" My eyes were frantic, looking everywhere from his slightly bloodied face, already forming bruises under his eye and jaw, and his side that he was holding, "You don''t look so good..." my obvious remark seemed to make him chuckle slightly, head still lowered exhaustedly.

    He didn''t answer right away, eyes squeezed shut as he took a deep breath before he looked back up at me, "I''m fine." He stubbornly looked back down to the dirty concrete beneath us and put a bloodied palm against it, pushing himself up into a squat and groaning as he stood to his full height.

    We were only thirteen, but he easily towered over me. I wasn''t short for my age, but I wasn''t exactly tall either. This boy looked like he was about ready to be in high school. His build was lean, but already slightly muscular. His hair was groomed neatly atop his head, bangs perfectly styled even after what he just went through minutes ago. His complexion was slightly tanner than my own but soft and creamy like the sun had kissed him just enough to grant him some color. I couldn''t tell if he had been held back a grade or if he was simply blessed with good genes.

    He grunted and moved to step away from the wall, but his leg seemed to give out, sending him toppling into me. I luckily caught him around the waist just before we both went down, my own ankle twisting uncomfortably as I struggled to hold up his weight before he stumbled back to both feet.

    "Please," I started, looking at him as the chilly wind blew past us and through our hair, "let me take you to the nurse''s office." He huffed, closing his eyes for a moment and running a hand down his face before looking down at where my arm was secured around his waist helping him carry his weight.

    He nodded and took the first step back toward school. The first few movements were clumsy and left us both slightly embarrassed. When he''d start to lose his balance, his grip tightened around my shoulder, tinting my cheeks pink and willing that it was simply the cold weather.

    "I''m Chandler," he offered into the quiet space around us as we neared the entryway of the student administration office, holding the heavy mahogany door ajar just enough for us to both squeeze through, "Chandler Lee." His hand that wasn''t clasped around my shoulder reached out in front of us, open and waiting for me to meet him in the middle.

    "Henry Sallow," I replied, grasping his hand with my own and shaking lightly.

    In that instant, his eyes softened, and his lips parted, flourishing into a smile brighter than any star I''d ever seen. Even as his face was a mess, and his voice was nothing more than a tired rasp, he shone like a beacon of light in a world full of darkness. I felt my own lips start to form a grin along my face, a flush spreading high across my cheekbones.

    Probably from the cold weather.

    "Nice to meet you, hero." The sudden, new nickname made my brows raise high, confusion written along my face. I wasn''t one to have many friends, and the ones I did never gave me a nickname. He laughed softly, clapping me on the back lightly before nodding his head in the direction of the nurse''s office, "Come on," his smile still shone bright and soft all at once, "Mind helping me walk just a few more steps?"

    As we walked into the nurse''s office, his smile never completely faded. Even as the head nurse walked up to us, face twisted in horror, it never fell off his face.

    His smile seemed to be contagious, the nurse looking puzzled as to how he was smiling when he was in such condition, but I sighed and couldn''t help as my own lips seemed to turn upwards as well.

    I didn''t know if he just smiled to put on a strong face or if he was always like this. Either way, there was a comfort behind it that made me feel like it didn''t matter how badly hurt he could be, he''d just keep on smiling.

 life-line

    Chandler

    Sometimes I start to think that I''m being irrational; like I''m clinging onto a worn rope just seconds away from snapping under the pressure of my weight.

    If I don''t keep trying, then that means I have nothing to live for. The thing is, I know that I have so much to live for. I have a family that I love and friends that I adore.

    At first, I wanted to laugh at myself, thinking that maybe it wasn''t hope that I was feeling, and instead it was just the fact that I had too much pride to give up without fighting.

    Now, I see that it''s more important than ever. As those I love slowly start to inevitably give up on me, I have to fight back even harder. It stings, still. I thought they thought I was stronger than that. I''ve never been one to give up easily, but I guess none of that mattered now.

    Nobody knew if I could hear them, or feel anything or if I even knew what the hell was going on around me. I couldn''t blame them for letting hope slip away.

    Every time a doctor would give them updates in the room and I happened to overhear, the reaction was never relief. The news was never good or bad; it was always somewhere in between- a complicated middle ground that was absolutely infuriating.

    I wanted to know what was going to happen to me in the end. I wish someone would just show up and slap me square in the face so I know it''s not some fucked up dream.

    Or was this punishment for something I did in a past life? Was this some sort of twisted purgatory?

    There was no way I could know for certain. I need them to tell me if I''m going to make it out alive or not, if I wasn''t already dead.

    So I know if I can let go or not.

    I don''t know exactly how long I''ve been out, but the last time I''d heard a nurse utter something to my mother and Henry under her breath, she''d said I was going on seven weeks of unconsciousness.

    They worried my brain function would rapidly deteriorate at any given moment, and that I would turn completely vegetative; nothing more than an empty vessel, mind, and soul long dissipated.

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    However, I knew for certain that I''d made one choice correctly; and that was putting my life in Henry''s hands.

    When medical staff would say something indirectly negative or hint that decisions should be made in advance for if I got worse suddenly, he would shut them down. They''d been making remarks more and more often, lately, like they were just waiting for my brain to fog over and my heart to flatline.

    He wouldn''t give, like a rubber band that, no matter stretched how far, he wouldn''t snap. He was solid in his belief that I was going to wake and told them that it wasn''t needed; not yet. However, I heard the frantic, anxious tone in his voice that worsened every time he was asked the same thing, ''Please be sure to update the forms Mr. Sallow''.

    Still, he''d react the same way. He''d quickly turn defensive, stating that his choice hadn''t changed. He wasn''t giving up on me.

    It''s the times where- long after visitation hours had ended, he would linger. He was always touching a part of me as if he was afraid I would wash away every time he let go. He would keep a gentle hand on my shoulder, my arm, or my own hands laid across my stomach. He was always there, and it made me feel all the more guilty.

    I wondered if he knew that I knew he was there.

    You have a job, you have a life, you need to take care of yourself and eat and sleep.

    What the hell are you still doing here, with the dude stuck in dreamland?

    Then, I think about it. I realize that if our roles switched, and he was the one laying on this bed, none of us knowing if he was ever going to come back to us, I wouldn''t leave his side either.

    It''s the way we always have been since junior high, throughout high school, and still are even as we''ve graduated university and started our careers- closer than ever.

    Somewhere between brothers, friends, and something else too, that I could never quite put my finger on. There wasn''t a fitting title I could put on him, and that fact always dumfounded me. I always looked out for him in a different way than I did for everyone else, but I joked that it was due to fact that he looked a bit like a puppy when anyone would tease me about it.

    I''d hold onto him just as tight as he''s holding onto me now.

    Even though he can''t hear it, I respond to him when he talks to me. If he''s just sitting there quietly, I talk to him. I tell him his favorite jokes and reminisce about the past; about the stupid things I''d talked him into doing when we were younger.

    Even if he can''t feel it, when he squeezes my hands; I squeeze back.

    I know that even if every single person on this planet gave up on me and told him he was stupid for holding onto blind faith, he would stay here and rot away with me if it meant that I wouldn''t be alone in this.

    If I have to go down, then I''ll go down kicking, screaming, and tearing the walls down around me until there''s nothing left to hold onto.

    I''m going to keep trying, harder than ever. It''s like I can feel a foreign strength slowly creeping into my head, down my neck, through my torso, and into my fingers. It''s sleeping into my legs and crashing down into my feet, settling in my toes.

    I can feel something changing. I started to dream about similar things, but they were broken bits and pieces. They would sometimes resume later on if I was lucky, but I wasn''t sure of I could trust the odd feeling they left in the back of my mind afterward. Sometimes it would be my family looking at me from afar, but they looked happy instead of dejected.

    In the most recent cases, they revolved around one person that seemed to be digging himself into the recesses of my brain more each time they recurred. Henry''s standing there with his feathery chestnut hair, dangling a lifeline above me as a chilly wind blows around him. It''s like he''s giving me another chance at a life that I''ve barely begun in our twenty-one years on this cruel earth. His hand is pale, soft, and warm, inviting me with a familiar comfort that I knew I would feel if I could just touch it- a feeling I wish I could drown myself in. His eyes are two round pools of the same clear, glazed honey chocolate color they always have been, gazing at me as if they can show me everything I could ever want if I just jump in without looking back.

    His hand is unmoving, reaching out toward me, waiting patiently.

    Once again showing up when I need help most, I''m grabbing onto you and I''m not letting go.

    I��m ready to breathe the fresh Spring air and open my eyes to see the beautiful, blooming world around me. I yearn to see the ones that I love and cherish more than anything.

    I��m ready to wake up.

 feel it

    Henry

    I watched the shadows his eyelashes cast against his cheekbones, searching for any twitch or flutter of an eyelid.

    In a way, I felt so stupid. Was I holding onto false hope? Was I indulging myself with foolish lies because it hurts less than facing the truth?

    I didn''t even want to begin thinking about how my life would be if he was gone. It''d been different enough in the past month without him. Every day felt like I was drowning in quick sand, torturously slow as the temptation of defeat seduced my aching legs. My life had begun to feel incredibly small and unimportant in the mess that was this toxic new world that I never thought I''d have to live in.

    We waited and waited. Chandler''s parents came when they could after work, and his brother Sam too. They were losing faith, and fast. I saw as hope bled from their eyes in the form of tears, leaving an empty hollow that could no longer be filled. The head neurologist tried to keep everyone positive and cheerful, but there was only so much he could say until it became a repetitive mantra that was clearly sugar-coated and delivered out of pity.

    I absentmindedly scratched at an itch on my collarbone as I stared at his motionless body, heartbeat picking up slightly when I thought I saw his eye twitch. I stared for a moment longer, getting up from the chair that seemed to mold to my body with how often I''d been sitting in it, and leaned forward, examining his face closely.

    Nothing. I must have imagined it. I haven''t slept well in ages.

    I jumped when my phone chimed, ripping me away from my dazed thoughts. I sat back down and pulled my phone out from my jean pocket, glancing at the screen with tired eyes. The notification was a message from Chan''s mother. My eyes widened in surprise as I hadn''t heard from her in about a week. She''d stopped visiting as frequently as she used to.

    ''Hello, Henry. I hope you''re doing well. It''s Friday, so I''m assuming you''re at the hospital?

    - Eunsoo''

    A slight smile formed on my lips at the fact that she still signed off every first message in a conversation she initiated with her name as if I wouldn''t have her contact saved in my phone after being best friends with her son for the last decade. It made the slight frustration I''ve been feeling toward her due to the lack of her visiting Chandler subside a bit. Maybe I was being judgmental. I''m sure it''s easier for her to focus on work right now rather than sit around in a cold, sickeningly plain hospital room all day staring at her youngest son that just might never wake up.

    Hell, everyone had their own way of coping. Mine just happened to be sticking around when I probably should be home sleeping, not staying here long after visitation hours had passed staring at Chan as if he would disappear if I looked away for just a second too long.

    I replied a quick ''yes'' and watched as three dots inside a speech bubble immediately could be seen at the bottom of the page as she typed. Seconds later,

    ''Great. I''m on my way to pick up some food before I head on over to the hospital. I hope you haven''t had dinner yet, I''m bringing you some.''

    I sat back and sighed. It wasn''t that I didn''t want to see her, but it was her reaction that I dreaded. I know she''ll walk in with a smile, only leave with hasty tears running down her cheeks.

    I sent back a polite ''thank you'', and let my eyes fall shut for a moment. The screen of my phone was bright in the dim room of the hospital, the only source of light being the lamp that was on Chandler''s right.

    It hurt to see others just as affected, if not more, by this situation than me. A constant, nagging pain was always in my chest, and it felt like a ton of stones were weighing down my stomach. I have no appetite, no reason to laugh or joke or do anything that once made me happy.

    It''s terrifying to realize just how much of an impact one person has on the lives of those he touches. It''s terrifying to realize just how much I love him; more than he even knows. To him, I''m surely just his childhood best friend; someone he''s grown with and learned with and loves, platonically. As a brother.

    To me, he was so much more than that. Sure, I always loved and adored him as a friend and as family, but I also yearned for him in such an intimate way that just thinking about it too much makes me feel sick. It felt like I was the antagonist in the fairy tale- a wicked witch trying to poison Prince Charming.

    I''d never be able to tell him how I felt. I wouldn''t want to screw things up. I know how these things go; I''ve seen it in the movies. I remembered, when we were in high school, Chan and I had gone with a couple of friends to see some Romance movie about a nice girl that fell in love with a guy, but she never told him how she felt because she didn''t want to ruin their friendship. The man ended up getting a girlfriend, and after a couple of years, he got married. The girl never told him how she felt, and she regretted it for the rest of her life.

    Chandler was pissed. He''d scoffed and expressed how ridiculous he thought it was that she never told her love interest that she liked him. I tried to explain to him that she was scared and that the small chance of her friend feeling the same for her wasn''t worth the risk of losing him forever. In her mind, having him by her side was good enough, even if it was platonic on his side.

    I could never forget the second he looked over at me, the right side of his face illuminated by the screen rolling end credits in the dark theatre, "You don''t know what will happen unless you come clean and give it a try. I mean, who knows? Maybe things will end up a lot better than expected." I''d looked away, coughing uncomfortably and brushing off his words. I still felt his eyes boring into the side of my quickly flushing face until he finally looked away with a small, cocky smile on his face.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    The memory still made my stomach flip. It was like he knew something; something that neither of us had directly said out loud, but knew.

    I''m sorry, Chan. Just like the girl defeated by fear in the movie, I''m a coward; too afraid of losing the one I love. If I can''t have you in my life as my lover, I''ll take you as my friend.

    It was probably just wishful thinking, anyway. Surely, he was strictly talking about the characters in the movie and not anything else.

    I glanced at the clock hung up on the wall opposite of me, and stared as the second-hand ticked and tocked, reminding me that time is the only thing seemingly certain to keep going, long after we''re gone. Chandler''s fate wasn''t known, and my happiness was basically in his hands without him even knowing it. It felt horrible.

    My phone buzzed again in my lap, but this time it was a steady, repetitive beat; a phone call rather than a message.

    My brows furrowed as I reached for the device, confused as to who would be calling me this late into the evening. Mrs. Lee couldn''t be here already, could she? She''d just messaged me minutes ago saying she was going to pick up the food.

    My eyes squinted as they read the words illuminated on my screen, before I sighed and stood up from my chair, exiting the room.

    I picked up and held the phone against my ear as I leaned against the cold wall of the hospital''s corridor.

    "Henry," the soft, comforting voice filled my ears and forced me to let out a long, heavy sigh that I hadn''t even realized I was holding in until now, "How are you doing, darling?"

    "Hi, mom," I voiced softly into the speaker, "I''m doing okay," I lied. I didn''t need her to have any more stress than she already did, "how are you? How''s the flower shop doing?" I listened as she rambled on about how the business has been buzzing lately and couldn''t help but grin at the sheer passion in her voice. She always adored everything that had to do with gardening and flowers, saying how it was such a blessing to be able to give something life and watch it grow. I was more than happy that she was able to pursue this hobby as her career.

    She eventually concluded her little rant, "So," she paused, voice slightly weary before continuing, "How''s Eunsoo and Jiwon holding up? Oh, and Samuel?" I sighed quietly as she inquired about Chan''s parents and brother. What was I supposed to say?

    "They''re doing alright, I suppose." I stated, "As ''alright'' as you can be when your son and brother is lying unconscious in the hospital for the eighth week." I heard her sigh from the other end of the line, her breath coming out slightly shaky. I closed my eyes tight, fingers running through my slightly unruly hair, and trying to brace myself for what I knew was coming next.

    "Baby-" she started, voice pleading, "listen to me. I know that this is so, so incredibly hard for you," her voice cracked, emotion choking the words and breaking them, "but, you''re going to do the right thing. Neither I nor can anybody else tell you what the answer to this is, only you can find it." She paused, taking a deep breath to calm herself, "Chandler chose you for a reason. He knew you''d do the right thing."

    I couldn''t stop my eyes from welling up with fresh, salty tears. I cursed myself inwardly. Even after months of crying, I still wasn''t strong enough. You think I''d have nothing left to cry, at this point.

    "I know, mom." I lied to appease her, trying to clear the emotion from my throat and hastily wiping at my eyes as my bottom lip quivered uncontrollably. I certainly did not know that what I was doing by holding on so tight was saving or torturing him, "Thank you."

    We chatted for a few more minutes, her trying to cheer me up and lighten the mood by cracking stupid jokes- something she''s always been great at. It always worked, too.

    "Mom?" I asked into a moment of comfortable silence that we''d both been basking in, just listening to each other breathe for a moment, "Mrs. Lee is going to be here any minute, she''s bringing some dinner for us."

    "Oh?" She asked, delight evident in her voice, "Well, don''t forget to thank her for taking care of my boy! I miss her and the family, hopefully I''ll be back in town soon so we can all see each other. Enjoy your meal, my love. Don''t forget to text me when you''re home!" I laughed at her worried tone, amused by how she still treated me like a kid. As her only child, it''s not surprising that she treats me this way. I''d always appreciate her caring so much, even if it seems a bit overbearing at times, "I love you."

    "I love you too, mom." I ended the call and let the back of my head rest against the cold wall behind me. The hallway was empty, devoid of any bustle that it usually had during the day. It was quiet and lonely. It made my heart hurt for those that didn''t have anyone to visit them. Not everyone had someone to look after them.

    I pushed myself off the wall and used the sleeve of my sweater to wipe any remnants of my tears away before walking the few steps back to the pristine door- the one thing blocking Chan off from the rest of the world. It was like he was being preserved, time still moving forward, but his body just sort of numb in an in-between realm.

    My heart ached inside the confines of my ribcage as I slowly stepped toward his sleeping body. He always looked so peaceful, like he was only taking a nap and would be up any moment to ruffle my hair playfully and throw an arm around my shoulders, asking what we should get to eat for dinner. After all, Friday''s were always our dedicated day to each other- or, as Chan loved to jokingly call them, our ''slumber parties''.

    I allowed a gentle smile to bloom onto my lips, eyes going soft as I looked at him. He''s always so beautiful. Even if he didn''t have those charming eyes, that perfectly messy raven hair, and that wolfish grin; I''d still love him all the same. As long as he was still the loving, caring, goofy, and insanely supportive Chandler Lee that I knew, I would always love him.

    I walked closer to him, stopping just at the side of his bed. I grasped one of his slightly cold hands, taking it into both of mine. I rolled his fingers around in my palms, using my warmth to soothe his stiffening muscles. I massaged his palm, using both of my thumbs to dig deep into the tissue of his hand, taking extra time to relish in the way his skin felt on mine.

    I glanced down at his face once again. I gulped nervously, eyeing him and watching as he clearly was still lost in the realm between sleep and consciousness. I looked back to his hand that I was cradling in my own and slowly brought it up to my face. I closed my eyes, grimacing as I thought.

    ''Is this wrong? Am I taking advantage of him just because he doesn''t know what''s going on- because he''s stuck in this endless abyss of sleep?''

    Before I could let myself think even further, I pressed my lips gently to the back of his hand. My cheeks flushed at the intimacy. How pathetic? He wasn''t even aware of what was happening and I was freaking out like a schoolgirl.

    The downy hair there tickled my lips slightly as I pressed them to his wrist and left mouth at his pulse point for a moment. I sighed into his familiar smell that I knew all too well, savoring it and dreading every second that I heard pass from the clock across from us on the wall.

    His natural smell, no cologne or body soap or aftershave, was a sinful mix between boy and musk, but always had a soft undertone of something sweet- like honey. It was like his voice, his body, and even the way he moved- heaven and hell all wrapped into one. It was Boyish and deep, but dripping with a sensuality that everyone wished to drown in- including me.

    I let my lips part from his skin hesitantly and peeled one eye open to assure myself that, yes, he was still unconscious and wasn''t looking up at me with that knowing smirk, as if saying ''I knew it all along''. I slowly brought his hand back down to his stomach, wishing time could just freeze for a moment so I could hold onto him this close for a bit longer. I squeezed one last time, just for good measure; just in case he could feel it and know that I''m still here.

    Just as I was about to let go, my heart skipped a beat. My pulse quickened in my chest, a cold sweat racing across my skin and shock whipping through me like a harsh winter breeze.

    My hands slightly shook as my mouth went dry, lips falling open in awe.

    What was that?

    I swallowed thickly as my breath came out in shaky puffs; unsteady, and quivering. I squeezed his hand a second time, this time tightening for a second longer.

    A moment passed, the room deathly silent apart from my own pulse drumming loudly in my ears.

    My heart stuttered as I waited one, two, three seconds- and then it happened again. I was sure of it, I hadn''t been imagining it.

    The large hand that was enveloped in mine, long fingers wrapped delicately around my own as I''d left them, squeezed back.

 awake

    Chandler

    First, a tingle spread from the top of my spine to the bottom of my feet, shooting through me like sparks of electricity.

    The numbness I''d previously felt was fading, welcoming a new prickling sensation in my fingertips that felt like someone was poking a hundred little needles into my skin. It''s not as unpleasant as the ache that numbness caused.

    My pulse picked up, and I could vaguely hear the persistent beeping of the heart rate monitor beside me beating more and more rapidly every second.

    Then, the voices murmured around me became louder. They were quiet at first, nothing more than mumbles that I couldn''t comprehend. Now, they''re bustling all around me in every direction. They''re calling for me frantically.

    "Mr. Lee, can you hear me?"

    "Mr. Lee, squeeze if you can hear me."

    It was too much. They were all talking one after another or at the same time, and my mind was just trying to keep up.

    "Chandler!" The last voice was the only one I could identify.

    Henry?

    Panic echoed in his voice and a deep anxiety poured out of every syllable. I tried my best to speak, my throat feeling raw and aching as I gave it my all. For the first time, I heard a little grunt. It wasn''t a sentence or even a word. Did I imagine it? However, I tried again.

    The noise repeated, but louder this time. Gasps erupted from around me, and I heard a sob come from somewhere slightly further away. I tried to put the pieces together and think of whose voice that was- whose cry that was. Yet, there was still too much going on at the moment for me to focus.

    Only one thing mattered right in that second; they heard me. They knew I could hear them. For the first time in however long I''d been gone for, I responded. I didn''t know exactly where I went, because I was in fact there. Just not in the same way as everyone else.

    I heard medical staff moving with quick steps all around me, and all of a sudden the black that I''d been so accustomed to ''seeing'' melted away into a white, creamy haze. It almost looked like smoke; swirling, and twisting in front of my eyes until my vision slowly began to clear.

    I saw three bright LED lights bolted to the ceiling, burning my sensitive retinas as my eyes weren''t accustomed to seeing anything but a dark, motionless canvas posted to the insides of my eyelids. Then, medical personnel hustled around me, checking my pulse, feeling my forehead, and touching certain points on my body to see if I was functioning correctly.

    I blinked once, twice, three times, trying to get my eyes used to the chilled air of the room that was drying them out almost immediately. A man''s face appeared in my vision, a gleaming smile plastered on his aged face. His name tag read ''Dr. Perez''. From what I remembered, I gathered that he must be the big shot around here.

    He patted my shoulders and placed a single finger above my eyes, "Mr. Lee, everything is going to be okay. Try to keep on taking deep breaths and do your best to focus on me. Follow my finger with your eyes if you can." I blinked and did as told. It was hard at first; like my eyes were moving slightly slower than my brain and stuck from not being used in so long.

    He sighed, seemingly relieved. He turned his head and murmured something to a nurse with a professional bun pinned atop her head before bringing his gaze back down and smiling gently, "Welcome back." His words hit me harder than one hundred bullets.

    Is this real?

    Is this just a dream?

    My mind was still slightly jumbled, and it was difficult to notice everything going on around me. I tried to turn my head, my neck aching in the confines of what I realized was a small, thin brace fastened around it. My brows furrowed as I observed all the monitors I was hooked up to, my arms stuck with needles, and my chest adorned with small square patches connected to wires that read the rhythms of my heart.

    Then, a door on the other side of the room burst open, and rushed footsteps scurried over to my right side. My mother stopped when she reached my bed, her hands covering her mouth as tears streamed down her cheeks. My father was quick to follow her into the room, out of breath and trying to calm himself down as he looked into my eyes cautiously, as if he was worried I might not remember him; like I might not remember anyone.

    "Chandler," my mother sobbed, moving a hand to grasp my hand firmly, "I can''t believe it," her eyes squeezed shut as a sob knocked her body forward, head dipping as she cried, "We were so afraid you were never coming back to us." My father held her weakly, tears filling his own eyes as he swallowed thickly,

    "Son-," he started, voice cracking as he tried his best to stay strong but folded as my mother cracking in front of him seemed to break the dam, tears falling freely from his narrowed eyes. He brought a hand to my shoulder and grasped it, squeezing as he let his dead drop to my chest. My mother sniffled as she watched him cry, finally letting go and not holding back.

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    I felt my eyes brim with fresh tears, my lip quivering as my parents held me like I was made of glass; like I would shatter if I was jostled slightly too hard. I tried to speak, but my voice was too hoarse. My throat was so dry, feeling akin to sandpaper when I tried to swallow a sob trying to escape. It was all so terrifying, and I didn''t know how to feel. Was I safe now, or was I going to be taken away to that terrible realm in-between again?

    My mother leaned forward and kissed my forehead, moving her hands down to cup my cheeks. Her thumbs gently swiped away the tears that seemingly couldn''t stop running like a leaking pipe flooding the floor with its spill.

    ''This can''t be a dream,'' I thought. The familiar smell of her floral perfume wafted through my nose as she clung to me like glue. Her warmth calmed me, easing my racing heart a bit and allowing me to focus a bit more to try and collect myself.

    I sniffled weakly as I let my eyes wander around the room fully, the tears aiding as a bit of lubricant, but my vision was still slightly blurred around the edges. Where there wasn''t medical staff recording my vitals and health information on laptops and charts on clipboards, there was a single chair pushed into a corner of the room.

    Henry sat at the edge of the seat on his own little island of solitude, unmoving. Although he was indeed in the room, his soul seemed so far away. Perhaps in shock or disbelief, his round eyes were wide as he stared into my own. He had the ivory sleeve of his sweater covering his mouth, the material catching the flood of tears running down his cheeks. The watery streams reflected against the harsh lights of the room, a few droplets falling quickly onto the material of his jeans and forming little dark spots along the tops of his thighs.

    He stayed still, appearing like he was afraid to move. I swallowed thickly and raised my left hand slightly, just enough for him to see, and hoped that he would know what it meant.

    Come here. Please.

    His breath seemed to stutter in his throat. He looked at my parents staring at me, and then back at him, before my mother announced quietly, "I''m going to call your brother. He should be on his way over by now."

    With that, they stepped away from my bed and walked toward Henry where he remained a statue in his seat. My mother stroked his cheek lightly, still weeping slightly herself but too awe-struck to fully let the situation sink in, and my father patted him on the back, nodding his head toward me, encouraging him that it was okay- that everything was going to be okay.

    Henry nodded slightly, unsure, and slowly stepped toward me as my mother left the room and my father stepped to the side to answer a few questions the doctor had for him. His feet moved cautiously like a fawn who didn''t quite know what to do with himself. Did he think this was some sort of sick dream, too?

    He finally stopped at the left side of my bed, his leg just barely jostling a few of the IV''s that I was connected to. Up close, the tip of his nose was pink, the color it would turn on an icy winter day after he''d been outside too long. His eyes were red-rimmed, intensifying the bright cocoa of his irises glimmering with tears as he tried his best to calm down.

    He shook his head, mind clearly reeling as he looked up and down my body, taking me in fully until he swiped at his cheeks hastily with slim fingers.

    A small smile managed to bloom onto my face for the first time in so long. I didn''t care as I felt the flesh of my bottom lip crack a bit, tasting blood when I let my tongue run over the small wound. I couldn''t help but feel fond of him as he was embarrassed for crying, even at a time like this. I lifted my hand again, presenting it to him palm up. He gasped slightly, our eyes meeting briefly before he finally placed his hand in mine.

    His grip was loose at first but then tightened as he broke down all over again. He shriveled down next to me, squatting as he placed our entangled hands against his warm forehead. His shoulders shook as little hiccups escaped his mouth with each cry. I blinked rapidly, trying to stop the inevitable flow of tears already forcing themselves out of my eyes and down my cheeks, soaking into the gauze wrapped around my neck under the small stabilization brace there.

    Don''t cry anymore, Henry. No more crying.

    I squeezed his hand, and he looked up. He looked so small, sitting there practically falling apart at his knees. I felt sick knowing that it was all because of me.

    I gulped and took a deep breath as he parted his lips to speak, "I-is this real? Am I dreaming?" His voice was frail and shaky, fragile like the petals of a flower. His face was bewildered; like he was sure none of this was real and only a sick dream taunting him- like he was about to wake up and see me still lying here in an endless sleep.

    "...dreaming." I tried my best to rasp out, a small laugh making me cough slightly afterward as his face fell, brows twitching and frowning as he pinched my arm lightly with the hand that wasn''t intertwined with my own.

    "Don''t joke about this!" He scolded me, eyes wide and cheeks turning pink, "It''s not funny." His eyes shut again, but he peeked one open to look at me. He was studying my face, observing the small details that he hadn''t been able to see in so long. I watched as his long lashes fluttered when he blinked, realizing he''d just been gawking at me without saying anything. He quickly turned his head and seemed to be searching for someone to get something to help ease my discomfort.

    Nothing could tear me down now. I felt as if I''d been to hell and back. A scratchy throat and weak body was nothing compared the mental and emotional torment I''d been enduring for so long.

    He stood back up to his full height and rubbed a hand down his face. It was then that I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. His cheekbones seemed to stand out more than usual and his skin had taken an even paler hue. He looked the worst I''d ever seen him- he looked absolutely defeated.

    I frowned, "Hey," I mustered, coughing again as I pulled on the hand still in mine to bring him closer, "you look sick." My voice was scratchy and sounded absolutely horrible. My words came out rough and cracked, but I kept trying to speak despite realizing that I probably shouldn''t be speaking. The flow of my speech was noticeably slow and seemed to drag slightly, but it was much better than expected for someone who had been unconscious for weeks.

    Henry gratefully accepted a paper cup of water that a nurse retrieved as she saw his frantic state. I couldn''t tell him not to worry, my muscles felt as if they were made of gelatin and my voice only came out in hoarse whispers. I could only try to calm him with my eyes, but it clearly didn''t work as he brought it to my mouth, feeding me as if I were a child. The water immediately soothed my aching throat and quenched the dry skin on my lips.

    "What?" He looked at me incredulously, "You''re the one who just woke up from a coma and you''re worried about me? Listen to yourself, your voice is so hoarse. Don''t try to talk right now, you need to rest." He huffed and lightly smacked my hand, barely even more than a pat. I smiled again as he inwardly worried, yet the stress practically oozed from him in flaming bursts of anxiety. Still lost in his thoughts, he nibbled his bottom lip for a moment as if pondering what exactly he wanted to say before shaking his head slowly, "I''m fine- just really glad you''re here." A warm feeling settled into my chest as he dipped his upper body over the side of the bed and rested his head in the crook of my neck softly, his arms coming around my shoulder as much as they could in my lying down position and tightened.

    "Don''t you ever fucking scare me like that again, Chan." His voice was minuscule in my ear, barely even a whisper. I felt a wetness seep into the fabric covering my collarbone and closed my eyes when I heard him let out a shaky sigh as his fresh tears clung to my skin. I breathed in his familiar scent, a long sigh escaping my lips that felt like a ton of bricks lifting off of my shoulders. I looked around the room again, seeing my parents speaking to Dr. Perez and watching my mother glance over at us every few minutes, a hand laid over her heart as she watched Henry and I embrace.

    I hadn''t even noticed her come back into the room, but there was no room for childish embarrassment due to her seeing us like this. After I thought I lost anything, the small things like that didn''t seem to matter anymore. I let my eyelids slip shut one last time and lifted my arm to wrap around his waist the best I could, just holding him there. It was hard for me to move, my brain trying to control my limbs despite the disconnect I felt between them. It was like somebody snipped a wire that connected my mind to the rest of me, rendering me unable to properly function just right. However, I tried not to think about it just yet; worrisome thoughts and anxiety could wait until later. Neither of us moved for a few minutes. We simply stayed there, and time didn''t seem to pass. Although I''d been out for an amount of time unbeknownst to me, I was so tired. I didn''t care, though, as sleeping was the very last thing I wanted to do in that moment.

    An unexplainable satisfaction settled deep into my bones as I let everything else that didn''t matter in this moment fade. I focused on the rise and fall of my chest and the feeling Henry''s soft sweater tickling my skin as I held him tight.

    "Never again," I whispered back to him, knowing he would hear me and probably scold me for speaking again, "...promise."

 better than okay

    Henry

    The night Chandler woke up was all a blur. I''d never felt so many feelings at once. The second I was sure his hand squeezed mine back, reciprocating any of my efforts for the first time, I was quick to slam my hand down on the red "alert" button on the side of his bed.

    My hands were shaking wildly as only about ten seconds, that happened to feel like ten hours, went by before a nurse hurried into the room with an anxious expression.

    I was only able to get a few words out in my manic state, "H-he..." I had to pause in an attempt to try and ease my quickly drying throat, "he squeezed back."

    Before I knew it, she was rushing to Chan''s side, checking vitals on the various monitors he was hooked up. The middle-aged woman then snatched the pager hooked onto a white sash-like belt fastened around her waist and muttered a code into it.

    Not long had passed until the room was bursting with too much noise and commotion for me to keep up with. Doctors swarmed in and out of the room, nurses bustling around quickly and speaking to each other.

    My ears seemed to stop working. My mind was fuzzy, and my mouth seemed to be filled with cotton, drying it out and leaving me unable to speak.

    I couldn''t move, even as Mrs. Lee came bursting into the room followed by her shaken husband trying to catch up with her. She looked at Chandler first, trying to see what was going on. Tears were already trekking down her face as she glanced over at me, her expression confused and questioning.

    She took quick, rushed steps toward me and knelt down in front of my legs, grasping my balled fists into her small, cold hands.

    "Henry," her voice was broken and anxiety was so thick in it that she seemed to choke slightly with her words, "what''s going on? Is he okay?"

    I didn''t know how to respond. How could I? All I knew is that he squeezed back. That was a good thing, right?

    Then why was this nagging fear so heavy in my gut, weighing me down every time I tried to breathe?

    It felt too good to be true.

    I shook my head slightly, looking at her desperate eyes with my own wide ones for the first time since she and Chandler''s father had come running into the room, "I don''t know..." my voice was quiet, my throat aching, "I just know I felt him squeeze my hand, I know I felt it- I swear I did!"

    Suddenly, the dam behind my eyelids broke, a flood of tears rushing down my cheeks and dripping past my neck until they were absorbed into the collar of my sweater.

    I suddenly felt so horrible. What if I was imagining it? What if he didn''t actually squeeze back, and I just thought I felt something?

    What if I just handed this man''s parents the hope that their son was coming back to us when really, he wasn''t?

    She was quick to grasp my face with her hands and pull me into a tight hug. My shoulders shook as I couldn''t hold back any longer. I tried to stay strong every day for the past eight and a half weeks. I tried my best to not shed any more tears; to not make anybody feel any more pain than they already did.

    I just couldn''t take it anymore.

    Her small arms wrapped around my shoulders tightly, her maternal hands soothing up and down my back as if trying to console an upset child.

    "Hey," her voice was softer than it had been before, seeing my fragile state, her maternal instincts helping her calm down and focus on comforting me instead, "Listen to me, I believe you. Try and stay calm." She nodded her head over to her husband standing a few feet behind the crowd of nurses and doctors surrounding the seemingly sleeping, angelic boy.

    I had just looked down, closing my eyes to try and stop more tears from falling when I''d heard it; a little grunt. Then, it was followed by another, louder one.

    Mrs. Lee let out a sob, hands moving to cover her mouth as her husband was quick to embrace her, his head falling onto her shoulder as they couldn''t believe the sight unraveling in front of us.

    Chandler was waking up.

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    I hadn''t imagined it; it was real. This was really happening.

    I remember not being able to fully process what was going on. My hands moved to cover my face in disbelief as his eyes opened just barely for the first time in over a month. From where I was sat on the opposite side of the room, it was too busy to be able to see everything.

    I heard Dr. Perez ordering medical staff around and saw as he interacted with Chan, but my ears couldn''t decipher his words from where I was.

    Mr. and Mrs. Lee had hurried over to him after the medical personnel backed up a bit, giving them the go-ahead to come over and see him. I heard as they warned them to be careful and understanding with him, as he''d just gained consciousness and was bound to be confused by what exactly was occurring.

    They shed tears, embraced him, and spoke to him. I wasn''t sure at first if he knew what was going on. From looking at him, his face seemed slightly blank and very overwhelmed. I stayed where I was sat across the room and watched him through blurry, tear-filled eyes and my lips quivered uncontrollably.

    The last thing I wanted to do was intrude. I could only imagine how his parents felt, finally seeing their son''s eyes open, alert, and staring at them once again.

    I also didn''t want to make him even more anxious. I could barely take in what was happening myself.

    It was when his blank face morphed into one of full recognition, remembrance, and disbelief that his tears started to fall. His eyes squeezed shut as his parents enveloped him further, holding him like they never wanted to let go ever again.

    I watched as labored breaths escaped his lips as he cried into the comforting arms of his parents.

    It was only when they pulled away slightly that his teary eyes began to wander around the room. They examined the medical staff bustling around the room, observing him and the various screens around the room. Then, they moved to the wall I was sat against before he blinked a couple of times and wiped his eyes gently. When he opened them back up, he was staring at me directly.

    It was like time stopped. His eyes pausing their movement, simply scanning me. My eyes ceased to obey my wishes, continuing to produce their endless flood of tears.

    His hand then lifted, barely, off of the bed. He looked weak and frail, and my heart skipped a beat when he raised his eyebrows slightly in a silent plea. I looked to his parents before moving to stand, seeing them walking toward Dr. Perez who was holding various sheets of paper. Mrs. Lee seemed to notice our little interaction, looking from Chandler to me, and nodding her head toward him, encouraging me to go on.

    I suddenly felt like such an idiot. Why had I just been sitting there uselessly crying, like a useless little pansy? I just couldn''t believe that it was all actually happening.

    I''d gone over to him, and seen what he looked like up close. He looked the same as he always had, but some things were slightly different. His hair was longer than he ever had let it grow, scruffy little fibers curling at his ears and framing his head- unsurprisingly, perfectly. His skin had taken a slightly paler tone than usual. It made sense, him obviously not seeing the light of day in so long. It made my heart ache in my chest.

    His voice was rougher than ever when he finally spoke. I felt my eyes widen. How was he able to talk right now? I knew what I''d seen in movies, and that was patients waking up from comas not knowing how to do anything but breathe on their own- if that.

    Realistically, everyone is different. Depending on the accident and the way it occurred, patients don''t always come out the same; if they even come out at all.

    After I was sure he drank enough water to somewhat soothe his throat, I let myself give into the pull I so desperately was trying to resist.

    I didn''t care about the embarrassment anymore. I didn''t care that he would be inwardly smirking at me knowingly while observing my tear-stained face, red eyes, puffy cheeks, and rosy nose. I didn''t care that he would surely tease me about it later.

    I decided I would let him tease me about anything and everything for the rest of our lives as long as it meant he was still around.

    Also, I would tease him back about the tears in his own eyes that he tried to hold back but failed horribly. Two could always play at his games, and that''s exactly how he liked it.

    As my head was nestled lightly in the crook of his neck, I listened to his soft breathing. I''d been waiting so damn long for that moment.

    My eyes fell closed against my will, and suddenly the lack of sleep that I''d somehow endured over the long weeks seemed to catch up to me. My lids felt heavy, and my breathing evened out, leaving me the most calm I ever had before.

    I didn''t want to admit that the euphoria flowing through me was most definitely due to the man holding me in his arms.

    I ignored the pain in my lower stomach due to the rail of the hospital bed digging into me there, the award angle I was bent at suddenly seeming humorous. I snickered quietly to myself as I thought, whoever saw this scene in front of them probably thought I looked ridiculous; a young man clinging desperately onto another like a baby koala and its mother.

    After another minute or so, after I pathetically whimpered for Chan to never leave me again like this, and he promised not to, a nurse came over to check on him. I untangled myself from his warmth and scowled slightly as the cold air of the room bit at my skin.

    As the nurse asked him a few different questions, I zoned out slightly, catching some things that Mr. Kim was telling Mr. and Mrs. Lee.

    "He got really lucky," he started, a gentle smile on his lips as he used his hands to enunciate his words, "If he would''ve hit his head even a fraction of an inch to the left of where the initial blow was, he would be immobile as we speak. He would most likely not be able to form solid phrases, as well." Dr. Perez summarized the anatomy of the human brain and how the damage done from the accident could''ve been much, much worse. If he''d hit his head on the window any harder, and any closer to the frontal lobe, things would''ve been much more serious.

    My breath caught in my throat. I looked down at my sneakers as I let the words sink in. How did he get so lucky? What if he would''ve been hit his head just a little harder? What if he had been paralyzed; stuck in a motionless state for the rest of his life?

    As I was lost in my thoughts, I felt Chandler grab my fingers lightly, just a touch. I glanced at him, quickly blinking away the sorrow that I knew was stained across my face as clear as black paint to a fresh canvas.

    I smiled as much as I could manage, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, I actually felt it reach my eyes.

    I felt happiness again.

    Sure, there was much more to worry about and figure out, but Chan was awake, and he was looking at me with those helplessly dreamy almond eyes. Even in his current debauched state, he was so flawless to me.

    I looked around us. His parents were discussing matters with medical staff, the constant buzz of chatter floating around the room. It offered a sort of comfort that meant things were moving forward. The voices were no longer panicked, and it wasn''t crowded anymore. Nurses made their way out of the room, leaving just a couple of them remaining along with Dr. Perez.

    I looked back down at the man on the pristine white bed, covered in a light blue duvet. He was staring back up at me, just watching me take in what was going on absentmindedly. It felt like he was in his own head, there but not really.

    "You feeling okay?" I questioned quietly. I didn''t know what I expected him to say, but I hoped he would be honest with me.

    Scared? Nervous? Confused?

    I didn''t know what his answer would be, but I just wanted him to know he wasn''t alone- that no matter what he felt, I was right there with him.

    He blinked up at me mischievously, his lips quirking up into the classic Chandler Lee smirk that never failed to send shameful chills down my spine. Despite how awful he must have felt inside and out, he refused to let it show as he mustered the strength to grunt out a short response that settled deep in my bones, "Better than okay."

    I rolled my eyes at his cheesy remark, shaking my head as I was unable to contain the smile of my own that blossoming across my lips. What I didn''t tell him at that moment was that I felt the same. Then again, he probably knew it already. He could read me like an open book.

    What I did tell him, though, was that for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I knew for certain that everything was going to be just fine.

 you never walk alone

    Chandler

    Memories of last night whirred through my head all morning since I''d ''woken'' up.

    It was still morning, the ticking clock on the wall reading half past nine. Dr. Perez was due to see me at ten to go over some things with me and my loved ones now that I was conscious.

    I picked at the bagel on my lap, my appetite not as prominent as it was before. As I let my head loll back against the freshly fluffed pillow behind me, I heard the door squeal open quietly.

    I looked to the entryway not bothering to turn my head, already hearing my parents'' familiar chatter float in through the crack of the door before they''d even showed their faces. My mother stepped in first, carrying her purse and a coat, followed by my father who was still shrugging out of his jacket.

    They looked much better than the night before. They still looked exhausted, but there was a glow in their complexion that was devoid before. Perhaps it was relief.

    "Good morning, love." My mother set her things down on a chair in the corner of the room and practically threw herself at me. I laughed quietly and did my best to hug her back, as my limbs were still quite slow and felt weak.

    "''Morning," I grinned up at her and my father as she pulled away to cup my face in her hands, and he ruffled the hair on top of my head.

    It all felt oddly familiar- like if I hadn''t been in that hospital bed and didn''t have the niggling, sore ache in my bones, everything would seem normal.

    Like the accident never happened.

    I was pulled out of my thoughts when the door opened once again, but this time, clumsy steps sounded through the entryway along with a muffled curse. I couldn''t contain my chuckle as Henry stumbled into the room, juggling a box of pastries in one hand and a carton of various coffee beverages in the other.

    "I brought breakfast." He offered, a tiny smile spreading over his lips as he walked across the room to set the food down on a vacant countertop. He took a deep breath once his hands were finally free and turned around, gently eyeing me as I couldn''t quite wipe the smile off of my face due to his never-changing ways. He''s always been clumsy in a way that made you want to mess his hair up and squish his cheeks like a grandmother would do.

    I raised my brows lightly, lips quirking up as I greeted him silently. He walked over to my bedside as he absentmindedly pulled his arm out of his coat, struggling with the other side. I shook my head slightly and raised my right arm just a bit, motioning to the arm that was entangled in the fabric of his jacket.

    He nibbled on his bottom lip- something he always did when embarrassed or nervous- and turned just enough for me to grab at the fabric and keep it still while he yanked his arm free.

    He looked down at me gratefully, "Thanks," his voice was small and shy, "how are you feeling?" I set the half-eaten bagel I''d completely abandoned on the small table beside me and wiped a few crumbs off of my lap before responding.

    What was I supposed to say? The last thing I wanted was to worry anyone; not any more then they already had been for over a month.

    "Great!" A plastered a large smile on my face hoping that it reached my eyes. For some reason, I chose to ignore the fact that Henry would see through it almost immediately- as if he couldn''t see right through me as I could see through him.

    His brows drew together slightly, a small frown drawing over his quickly pouting lips.

    Damnit.

    His mouth parted slightly as if he were about to speak when the door squeaked open for a third time that morning, causing him to turn his head and examine who had entered the room.

    I blew out a small sigh, thankful for the perfectly-timed interruption.

    I didn''t have to wonder who came in this time for long because Dr. Perez'' head peeked around the corner and looked around playfully, knocking his knuckles against the wall, "Good morning everyone. I hope I''m not interrupting anything." My parents replied with smiles and engaged in short, boring middle-aged banter for a moment while Henry looked down at me, a hint of worry reflecting in his somber eyes.

    I looked away after shooting him a brief smile that afterward felt more like a grimace.

    "Well, there are just a few things I''d like to discuss with you all this morning in regards to Mr. Lee and our options going forward." My parents nodded in understanding, encouraging him to continue as they took their seats in the few chairs lined against the opposite wall from me. Henry had his head slightly lowered, walking away from my side wearily and going to sit next to my mother in the last vacant spot. She patted his thigh lightly, grinning at the small, shy smile he sent back at her before looking back over to Dr. Perez as he made his way toward me and sat down in a small, swiveling chair that all doctors seemed to have.

    "To start, Chandler will need to undergo physical therapy. It can be seen that his fine motor skills have slightly deteriorated due to not being used for quite some time. This is very common and really could be a lot worse, but we want to get on top of it now so we can get him back in shape quicker." He looked down at the clipboard in his hands and flipped through a few pages absentmindedly before looking glancing at me, "We''d like to keep you here for a week as of right now to closely monitor your recovery. After that, we can see how you''re doing and decide when it''s acceptable for you to be discharged. If all goes well, regularly scheduled physical therapy along with light exercise that can be done from the patient''s home should be perfectly acceptable moving forward."

    I nodded my head, trying to push away the slight disappointment weighing down in my gut. Another week of being here in this horrifyingly boring room with even more boring people? Of course I respected the medical staff immensely and I was very grateful for them, but they all were the same. They spoke like robots in a tone that perfectly reflected the environment; monotone and never changing.

    Surely, I would go crazy.

    "Now," he started after speaking a few words to my parents regarding therapy times and costs, "In order for us to understand your situation better, I need to ask you a few questions."

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    "Of course," I encouraged, settling my hands in my lap and waiting for him to continue.

    "Firstly, do you know what it was that occurred and caused you to be here? If so, can you tell me everything that happened leading up to it? I''m aware you''ve been questioned about this already, but it''s policy to ask supplementary questions after certain intervals of time to measure your cognitive state and to see if you remember more details." His voice was gentle and tentative, carefully choosing his words.

    I thought for a moment. My memory was blurry around the details of the night, but I remembered the basic things well enough. I repeated what I was sure of and what I''d told them when they asked me the same thing the night before, "I''d gone to work as normal. It was Friday, and some friends asked me if I wanted to get a drink after work. I said okay and called Henry to ask if he wanted to come along,"

    I looked over at him, his body sagging slightly as he recalled the memories of that night. He looked deflated suddenly, but I didn''t know why.

    "He said no," I continued after a moment, "so I met my buddies at the bar at eight. We ate and drank, but I only had two beers. At eleven, I gave my friend a ride home." I tried to remember exactly what happened after that, my memory fuzzing a bit as I tried to piece things together, "Then, I drove home. Then, I just remember everything sort of going black at some point when I was on the freeway about twenty minutes from my place." I couldn''t help it as my eyes lowered, watching my hands instead of my parents'' faces as we were forced to relive the pain.

    "Alright," Dr. Perez spoke softly, jotting something down on his clipboard, "I take it you''d like to know what exactly happened, then?"

    I nodded my head hesitantly, raising my head to meet his eyes. There was a sick feeling in my stomach as he opened his mouth.

    In a way, I didn''t want to know. It was over, and I just wanted to go home.

    "You were hit by a drunk driver." His eyes held sympathy as he started into mine. That much I''d already expected. The last thing I remembered was driving, so surely it had been an accident. I nodded for him to continue, "They ran into you from behind, causing your body to jerk forward. From our tests, it can be presumed that you first hit your head on the steering wheel and dashboard before knocking into your window. Your frontal lobe was swollen and bruised, the left side more so- most likely due to contact with the window."

    He paused to let his words sink in. I felt like maybe I should be reacting differently. I looked over at my parents, seeing them eyeing me with sadness scribbled on their faces. I hated it.

    I hated the pity that others felt for me due to something that nobody could control.

    Henry looked as empty as ever, head bowed and staring at his hands twisted in his lap, playing with his fingers. I sighed, wishing the conversation would end so nobody would have to think about it anymore.

    "Alright..." I replied slowly, nodding my head and looking back over to my father as he stroked my mother''s back soothingly, "Is my car totally wrecked?"

    There was a moment of silence before Dr. Perez and my father broke out in laughter, apparently expecting a vastly different response. I smiled slightly, and then chuckled lowly at myself. I guess I was never one to feel sorry for myself.

    "That''s what you''re worried about?" My father laughed incredulously as he shook his head in disbelief, "Your car is in the shop. Mom and I are getting it fixed up but it''ll be a few weeks."

    I sighed, frustrated with the situation. Fixing the car after all the damage it must have taken if I''d gotten knocked out due to the impact wouldn''t be cheap. The last thing I wanted was for them to have to worry about my medical bills and now the expenses to get my car fixed.

    "At least let me pay half." I suggested, looking at them with pleading eyes, hoping that for once they could let me help out. Money was never tight in my family, but that didn''t mean that I didn''t want them to have plenty saved up for retirement.

    "Shut your mouth young man," my mother scolded, pointing a surprisingly unpainted fingernail at me, her words defying the soft expression on her face, "you are not paying for this. Now, listen to your doctor!" I sighed and shook my head, raising a hand to rub at my temples. I''d bring it up again with my father later on to try and convince him.

    "Well," Dr. Perez cleared his throat, clearly amused by the situation unfolding in front of him, "you were unconscious for a total of sixty-six days. It really is truly amazing how you managed to wake up so suddenly. You weren''t responding at all beforehand. You really are a lucky case, Mr. Lee." He smiled genuinely. He seemed like a good man, and I was glad that he was my doctor instead of some monotonous, arrogant asshole that lots of doctors turn out to be.

    "After we schedule your therapy sessions, it''s a matter of having patience and maintaining positivity. While you''re here, just try to relax as much as you can and work on settling your mind. We have a psychologist on the top floor that is always willing to work with patients at no extra costs. If you ever have any other questions for me while I''m out within the next week, you can page a nurse and I''ll be get back to you as soon as I can." He bowed his head slightly in respect and stood up from his chair. He walked the few feet to my bed and stuck his hand out for me to shake, which I did- although quite slowly due to my rigid muscles.

    He then proceeded to shake my parents'' hands, followed by Henry''s- who was still slightly lost in a daze as he gratefully smiled at the man in the white coat.

    Dr. Perez grabbed his clipboard and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, looking from me to my parents one last time before excusing himself from the room politely with confident steps and a promise to see me soon.

    My mother and father were immediately chattering away, speaking about every

    thing and nothing. Part of me was grateful. The background noise was momentously better than silence. Henry stood up, stretching his back and sighing slowly. He walked over to a countertop across the room and opened the box of pastries he''d brought earlier. He reached inside the box and picked something I couldn''t quite see from where I was sat in bed. He stuck it on a napkin and grabbed a cup from a cardboard tray before making his way over to me.

    He smiled gently through his words as he lifted the hand holding the pastry, "I got you your favorite," I looked up at him and analyzed the treat he was carrying closer.

    "Chocolate and cr��me Croissant?" I smiled bright, my mouth watering slightly at the sight. He nodded, setting the treat down in my lap gently before shaking the cup he''d been holding in front of my face.

    "Your favorite coffee, too." he remarked proudly, "Iced caramel Macchiato." He smiled brightly as he watched my eyes light up. My heart warmed with the familiar taste of the coffee on my tongue and the sweet smell of the Croissant filling my nose.

    "You know me so well." I chuckled, lifting my arm slowly to smooth his hair down in the front. His bangs had been slightly disheveled since he arrived earlier in his clumsy state. His hair was soft beneath my fingers, and I felt a strong urge to leave my hand there and just enjoy his warmth for a moment. My hand stuttered slightly after I''d realized what I was doing, causing me to sheepishly lower it back down. Henry''s cheeks flushed slightly, the way they always did when I showed affection.

    He was so goofy, so innocent- so soft and warm. So him. I was so glad that, after all this, he hadn''t changed a bit.

    Henry walked away only to retrieve a chair from the other side of the room and set it next to me. He strolled back to the countertop again and grabbed a pastry for himself along with another beverage he''d brought before making his way back to the seat, plopping down onto it and digging into his food immediately.

    I chortled as a bit of cream from the pastry he''d been eating smeared the corner of his mouth. I shook my head, trying to savor how good the moment felt- how, for once, things almost seemed normal again.

    My previously curbed appetite seemed to fizz away, and all of the sudden I was starving.

    "So," he suddenly started, after we''d finished our treats and were sipping on the last of our coffee, "are you going to tell me what''s wrong, now?"

    I closed my eyes and sighed deeply. I didn''t want to make things worse. I knew if I just played it off like it was nothing then it would make him worry even more, and that wasn''t what I wanted.

    "It''s just," I took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly before continuing, "it doesn''t feel like I''m awake yet. It feels weird, like everything''s slightly out of place. I don''t feel myself." I didn''t know what he would say, I just hoped my answer wouldn''t worry him any further. I also hoped he wouldn''t crumble into a puddle of pity at my feet and cry over the fact that I was feeling lost.

    "Well," he said after a moment of silence just absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the duvet covering me, "I can''t say that I know what you''re feeling right now. I''ve never been through what you just had to endure."

    He looked up at me from where his chin was resting on his knuckles and put his lands in his lap, "What I do know, though, is that I went through a lot of change these past eight weeks, too." He took a deep breath and I focused on how his lashes fluttered when he blinked away seemingly negative thoughts, "I had to face one of my biggest fears and watch my best friend lay there seemingly crumbling away into nothing."

    I sucked in a breath when I saw a single tear fall from his eye and dribble down his cheek. His lip quivered slightly while he paused to calm himself down. I instinctively moved to rest my hand on his forearm that had been limply lying on his lap and squeezed, trying my best to offer comfort without smothering him. I waited patiently for him to continue, not being able to find any words as he was trying his best not to crack in front of me.

    The buzz of my parents'' voices still chatting to one another and drinking their coffee faded away as soon as he looked up at me with his glassy umber eyes and spoke, "I went through hell; we all did. I need you to know that you''re not alone- that you didn''t go through this alone. I feel lost, too. I can''t look at things the same way, anymore. It''s like everything has a new meaning; an importance that wasn''t there before. I feel like this is all some sick, hopeful dream that I''ll wake up from any moment and you''ll still be laying here asleep."

    I swallowed thickly, trying my best to find words. I sat up straighter and leaned toward him, trying to get closer despite the confines of the hospital bed, "I''m not asleep, anymore. It''s not a dream," I pinched his cheek jokingly, trying to lighten his mood and soothe the ache of my heart that stung in my chest every time he looked at me with his red-rimmed eyes.

    He looked down and smiled small and gently, shaking his head lightly. He sniffed and looked at me again, but this time, he was holding himself together.

    Whether it was for me or for him, I didn''t know. Maybe both.

    "Just know that we''re both going to get through this together, Chan. We can get through it, and things will be better again, like before."

    He squeezed my hand that was still on his forearm, reassuring and firm before he stood and gathered our napkins and empty cups, leaving me to dwell over his next words.

    "You know, they say that walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light."

 nightmare

    Henry

    An icy white haze surrounded me like snow, painfully bright and stubborn. My footsteps echoed against the pearly white flooring underneath me as I walked toward something I couldn''t quite see just yet. It felt like I had been walking for hours, or even days. Time seemed to be nonexistent as I kept going and going, no end in sight. However, I couldn''t get my legs to stop. They were moving on their own accord, bringing me to something that surely must''ve been a sight to see.

    A cold snap of wind gusted around me, blowing through my hair and leaving my wispy bangs disheveled on my forehead. I brought a hand up to run through my locks, pulling it back down once the strands were out of my eyes. In the corner of my eye, something on my hand caught my attention. I brought my hand up to my face and felt a gasp escape my quickly tightening throat.

    My palm was smeared in a crimson liquid, deep and starting to dry slightly. As I tried to blink the image away, it didn''t disappear. The color seemed to only get more and more apparent; as if was mocking me. Before I could do anything more, a thick fog enveloped me, blocking the sight of my hand, my hearing, and only leaving me with touch and smell.

    In less than a second, the haze dissipated. Less than a yard ahead was a scene that burned through my corneas and stained my brain. My feet started moving again, even though I begged someone- anyone, to stop it and let me get out of this never-ending loop.

    I was getting closer and closer to a wreck.

    A black car sat in the middle of the white abyss surrounding me. Skid-marks stained the pristine white ground, leaving a messy trail of loops and zigzags. The rear of the car was bashed in, smashed so horribly that one of the back doors were half off of its hinges. Smoke trailed eerily from the vehicle, the whole scene looking far too real to be just a figment of my imagination.

    The closer I got to it, the more I could see in detail. It was then that I realized it wasn''t just any car; it was Chandler''s.

    He''d gotten the car as a graduation gift from his parents. I''d spent countless summer nights in the passenger seat as we sailed through the city, finding something new to do each time. It was never boring, and every day was one I wouldn''t want to spend any differently.

    My breath caught in my throat as my legs finally ceased their relentless movement just a few feet away from the car. No sound resonated around me. All I could hear was my own breathing and the pounding of my heart in my ears as I became more and more anxious with every passing second. The air around me seemed to thicken with every breath I took as I glanced through the passenger side window to see inside of the car. I couldn''t see much, as the airbag had obscured my field of vision.

    I rounded the car slowly, swallowing thickly as I looked through the window on the driver''s side. In a fleeting moment that felt a bit like an eternity, heart snapped, crumbling through my stomach and soaring to the floor with a shattering crack.

    Inside of the car was Chandler.

    His head was craned forward against the steering wheel, head turned toward me as he sat there completely unresponsive.

    "Chan!" I screamed, pounding on the window as hard as I could.

    Nothing.

    I started to hyperventilate, my lungs burning and unable to fill me with enough fresh air. I grabbed the door''s handle firmly and pulled to open it. It was locked. I yanked as hard as I could, banged and kicked the door over and over again until I was so weak that it hurt to even stand. I fell to my knees beside the window and stared through it dazedly. I knew that there was nothing I could do, and that knowledge made it all the worse.

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    Chandler''s eyes were open, just staring blankly ahead of him, unmoving and numb. I lowered my head, feeling tears pour down my cheeks and cascade along my neck until they got lost in the fabric of my shirt.

    I looked back up at him and flinched backward when his previously still, drained eyes re-adjusted just slightly; just enough to where he wasn''t staring out the window blankly any longer- he was looking at me.

    Blood poured from somewhere on his head, running down his forehead and over his cheeks. I whimpered as his neck was craned at an unnatural angle, snapping as he lifted it to look at me better.

    "Chandler!" I screeched, scrambling to my feet, "Open the door! I''m here, please open the door!" I banged on the window, pleading to him. His usually soft, warm, intoxicating eyes that I adored remained cold, emotionless, and hazy as he stared at me through the glass.

    The tears still plummeting from my eyes slightly obscured my vision, but I could see enough- and it was too much to handle.

    He was broken- bleeding and bruised in so many places that I suddenly felt sicker than ever. My head began to spin as I could suddenly hear him perfectly; as if there was no glass separating us between.

    "Henry," he started, a ghost of a smile on his blood-stained lips, "Do you see it? The blood on your hands?" I looked away from his face that was becoming more and more horrifying with every second and looked down at my hands.

    Before, only my right hand had been dirtied by an unknown vermillion substance, but now both of my palms were drenched in warm, slick blood that dripped from my fingers and down onto the cold white floor at my feet.

    I looked back at him in shock through the glass, gulping as the unfamiliar, terrifying grin spread even wider on his face.

    "It''s mine." His voice was chilling, sending goosebumps down my spine as he began to chuckle. It was quiet at first, but quickly grew into manic laughter, floating all around me and forcing its way into my mind even as I tried to cover my ears with tainted hands.

    It didn''t work. No matter how hard I tried to stop it, his voice drilled into my head, trapping me in a nightmare that I couldn''t escape.

    "No," I cried, sobbing as his laughter continued, "please, stop!" I couldn''t hold up my weight any longer and fell onto all fours, lowering my head to the ground and covering my eyes.

    My senses were in overdrive, the blood was wet against my face as the sharp metallic scent ghosted through my nose unwarranted.

    "It''s your fault, Henry." Chandler''s laughter died down, his voice tired and raspy as he coughed and hacked before continuing, "If you would''ve been there, we would''ve gone a different way home. None of this would have happened. You should''ve been there with me."

    I screamed, pounding my fists against the floor, begging it to all stop. I couldn''t hear any more of it. It wasn''t as if I hadn''t already thought of it before, but hearing it directly from his scarlet-stained lips carved it into ever inch of by being.

    My head spun faster and faster until everything diminished to a white blur with minuscule black spots dotting the corners of my vision.

    I was fading, my body shutting down as I succumbed to the darkness pulling at me. As I slipped under completely, his words were the last thing I heard before everything turned black,

    "It should''ve been you."

    I shot up, feeling as though I''d crossed over to a different dimension and had finally returned. My chest heaved and my body shook like leaf as I tried my best to fill my lungs with air. My bedroom was completely dark save for the moonlight leaking in through my parted curtains on the opposite wall, assuring me that I was indeed somewhere else completely. I placed a cold hand on my chest while the persistent stuttering of my heart began to slow, finally letting my watering eyes fall shut in realization.

    It was a dream.

    The worst one I''d ever had, for that matter.

    My tremoring hands moved to cover my eyes, supporting my head and giving me a place to hide in all at once. My lips quivered as a broken sob wracked through me, leaving me shaking and feeling worse than I thought possible.

    I let his words sink in- everything that he''d said.

    It made me wonder if he thought those things but just never said them to me. Why would he? Chandler cares about everyone and everything too much. He would never do or say anything to deliberately hurt me. That made it even worse; the fact that he probably was thinking those things all the time, but just bit his tongue because he doesn''t want to make his pathetic best friend cry.

    I swallowed back another sob and angrily wiped my cheeks, trying desperately to dry my shameful tears.

    I took a deep breath and sniffed, my nose stuffy and most likely bright pink due to my breakdown. Turning my head to the left, I glanced at the clock on my bedside table through blurry eyes. It was only three, but I knew I wouldn''t be getting any more sleep tonight; not after this.

    I leaned over and clicked the lamp on, causing the room to light up with a soft, somewhat comforting glow. I leaned back against the headboard and folded my hands in my lap, my bottom half still enveloped in my warm duvet that suddenly felt a bit suffocating.

    I let my eyes slip shut lightly and allowed my thoughts to rein free, pouring out in a messy heap and seeming to float around the room, becoming louder by the second. The more I thought about it, the more clear it became- and the worst part was that his words were entirely true. He had so much going for him; a well-paying job in advertising at a well-known company straight out of college, a plethora of friends, and so much potential to become anything he wanted and achieve whatever goals he set.

    Me, on the other hand? I was nothing compared to him, inside and out. Where he excelled in every way, I was weak. The nightmare had been so daunting because it was everything I''d felt since the moment I received the call from Chandler''s mother the night of the accident.

    I should have been there with him; I could have changed the way the night ended.

    If I didn''t have the power to change fate- if I was too weak and powerless to achieve that much, at the very least, it should have been me.

 dont let him go

    Chandler

    "So you could, like, hear everything?" My brother''s voice was soft and purely curious, his eyes drifting over to me gently from where he was seated a few feet away from my bed.

    "I could only hear things from time to time before I tapped out again. I don''t remember much, though." I replied truthfully. I only remember hearing bits and pieces of things while I was unconscious. It sort of all feels like a bad dream.

    "Oh?" Sam started, tossing the bright yellow stress ball I''d been given by my physical therapist from his left hand to right, "That''s pretty cool, actually. Doc said that''s super rare and you didn''t respond to any stimulation so we didn''t think you were aware of anything. What do you remember?"

    I let out a deep breath as I thought, sifting through the few things I knew for a fact I''d heard when I was under, "I remember hearing the doctors and nurses, mainly. I don''t really remember the things they said, but it was just a bunch of mumbles for the most part. It''s sort of like waking up from a dream; you remember when you first wake up but after a day, you can''t recall most of the details."

    I paused when he gently threw me the ball, catching it clumsily before speaking again, "I remember always hearing the damn heart rate monitor."

    Sam laughed the same way he always did when it was just us two; free, loud and breathy. I didn''t try to stop the smile breaking out on my own face as I looked over to the machine hooked up to my left. The constant beeping had annoyed me to such a point that I felt as if I was being punished endlessly. As if being somewhat aware of my surroundings but not being able to respond wasn''t torture enough.

    I shook my head and turned to stare at the monitor in disdain, thankful that they''d finally taken it off a few days ago so I could sleep peacefully and not be tangled in a mass of wires.

    "So," he started again, voice slightly cautious, "You don''t remember hearing anything else?" He looked at me with a wondrous glint in his dark eyes, as if he was pushing for something but wouldn''t vocalize it.

    "I do remember Henry being here a lot." I looked down at my lap where I was twisting my fingers, a funny feeling settling in my gut as I recalled the sound of his voice in my hazy head, a somewhat vague memory but still distinctly him.

    My eyes lifted to meet my older brother''s similar ones and my brows immediately knitted at the smug look on his face.

    "Oh? Little ol'' Henry boy, huh?" His voice was thick with tease and absolutely dripping with mirth, "So you don''t remember hearing me, mom, or dad; but you remember hearing him?" I rolled my eyes, huffing as he pushed further. I shrugged, not knowing what to say, "I gotta say, I''m a little offended."

    Hell, even I didn''t know why his voice was the only one I could really remember clearly among the ocean of sounds I was drinking in for those long eight weeks.

    "How is he, by the way? I haven''t seen him in a couple of weeks." He still had a faint smile on his lips, looking like he was forcing himself to try and wipe it off before I got up from the bed and slapped it right off of his face, "Is he still in love with you?" He childishly giggled, covering his face with both hands and wiggling around in his seat wildly.

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    "Shut up," I groaned, chucking the stress ball at his head with a surprising burst of strength, only to become disappointed as he managed to catch it just before it socked him right on the cheek, "He''s not in love with me." I crossed my arms over my chest and crossed my ankles, already waiting for his stubborn remarks that were sure to come next.

    "He so is!" He exclaimed, launching his upper body forward in his chair and slamming a hand down onto my calf, "I''m your big brother, I know these things!"

    I laughed unabashed, my eyes nearly closing as I shook my head at his ridiculous words, "Oh yeah? What makes you think that your right about this assumption you''ve had for the past five years?" I sat up completely, crossing my legs and putting my elbow on my thigh as I settled my chin on my palm, waiting for his response.

    We''d been over this a dozen times before. Each time, it got harder and harder to ignore Sam''s confident words and brush them off without overthinking.

    "To start, you guys have been best friends for, like, a million years? He hasn''t left your side- ever." He huffed, seemingly frustrated and grumbling how stupid I am under his breath, "Also, he''s never even introduced you to a significant other of his." He pulled his chair closer to me, resting his head on his arm as used the bed as a surface to lean on, "How sketchy is that?"

    "Seven years-," I shot back, "and so what? Many people have a best friend that they''ve had for a long time. What''s wrong with him being a loyal one?" I glared at him playfully, jabbing his arm with my finger, "Henry not having a partner doesn''t concern you, me, or anyone else. I''m sure he''s dated people but just never really told me. You telling me you''ve introduced every chick you''ve been with to your closest friends, Sammy?"

    "It''s not just that! He''s so obviously devoted to you that you''d think he was a faithful little puppy and you were his owner. You also know for a fact that he''s into dudes, and in case you haven''t seen yourself, you''re a pretty good looking one." He slapped my leg, shaking for emphasis as if it would knock some sense into me.

    "He''s always been quiet and reserved. He''s different than the other guys we grew up around, and I think he knows that. He''s self conscious about it even though he has nothing to be embarrassed about." I started, my voice losing it''s joking tone and becoming solemn, "I understand him, which isn''t something a lot of people can say- and I''m okay with that." I ignored his comment about Henry being gay. It came up in conversation one day when we were fifteen and I''d been talking about a cute girl in one of my classes. He became all stiff, awkward and uncomfortable for a few minutes before telling me that he wasn''t into girls. I didn''t judge him then, and I never will.

    Henry had always been doing things on his own. Even before we''d properly met, he never had partners for projects in school and didn''t talk to other kids save for one boy he used to mingle with during lunch most days that was equally as awkward and shy as him. He never bothered anyone, and it slightly ashamed me that I never went up to him before the day he helped me.

    As we got to know each other better, I found that I quite liked being the only one who could say they truly understood the mysterious boy who was Henry Sallow. It wasn''t that I was possessive of him, but it felt like, for once,  I was special in a way that meant nothing to anybody else. It was a title that wasn''t constantly being sought after by my peers; Captain of the soccer team or class representative- being Henry''s best and most trusted friend was on the highest level. Of all things everyone was trying to surpass me in, nobody could take that from me.

    "You know," Sam wasn''t smiling anymore, "He was really messed up the last time I saw him." His voice was quieter, and his eyes cast down to his fingers where he was playing with a loose string on the cuff of his jacket sleeve, "He had dark circles under his eyes and his skin was so pale you could basically see through him. Mom said he didn''t sleep or eat. All he did was pretty much stay here and watch you."

    I swallowed down the feeling of self-disgust, guilt flooding through me as I leaned back on the headboard again, letting my head loll against the hard white plastic of the hospital bed.

    I knew it was my fault that he was in so much pain. If it weren''t for the accident, he wouldn''t have had to see me get hurt like that- he wouldn''t have had to see his best friend lingering an inch away from death. He said he had to look at his biggest fear unraveling in front of him. He thought he was going to lose me for good.

    "Hey," Sam tapped my hand where it was resting on my stomach, causing me to look down and meet his warm gaze, "Even if you don''t believe me or even if I''m wrong, just don''t let him go anytime soon. He''s a good friend, and he really loves you, you know."

    I felt a small smile pull at my lips and a foreign warmth pool in my stomach as I scratched the back of my neck absentmindedly as a distraction.

    "I know," I replied lightly, voice going soft as my mind wandered to a place filled with memories of Henry and I, summer nights, mornings filled with eating leftover take-out for breakfast and everything in between,

    "I got his back, too."

    I flinched as Sam erupted in a fit of girly squeals, clapping his hands and cooing at me. I rolled my eyes and kicked him lightly, throwing the jumbled duvet that had been covering me at his head, both of us falling into a fit of laughter as it got stuck around his neck when he tried to desperately untangle himself.

    All the while, I tried to casually ignore the strange, new feeling of butterflies emerging from their previously tranquil cocoons deep in my stomach as thoughts of a certain someone flitted through my messy mind.

 stay with me

    Henry

    It was only half-past ten in the morning when I''d parked about a quarter block away from the hospital. This morning we would be getting a follow up from Dr. Perez about Chandler''s physical therapy progress, and he''d told me on the phone last night that he wanted me to come.

    So, of course, I did.

    Normally, I would park in the car garage to save time and effort of walking a long way. Today, however, was so refreshingly beautiful that I wanted to enjoy it on the way up. The air was crisp and fresh as a spring breeze whispered around me and tickled my cheeks as it went. My hair became a bit messy, but I didn''t care.

    Mornings like this were too gorgeous to pass up, and I couldn''t help but feel a niggling hope in my tummy that today was going to be a great day. For the first time in two months, I was completely at ease.

    So, I walked through the middle of the city, looking through countless pristine windows of shops and towering skyscrapers. I was taking it all in, because I''d had to recently learn that you never know when life will change, whisking you away with no time to react or look back.

    I took my time, strolling with small steps down the concrete sidewalk leading to the hospital''s main entrance. Once I reached the doors, I took the last sip of my coffee and disposed of the cup before walking in through the sliding panels.

    I signed in at reception and patted the visitor sticker onto my shirt when a woman with kind eyes handed it to me. The elevator ride to the sixth floor was short, feeling much different now than it had just about a week ago. Before Chan woke up, everything I did felt like a chore. My stomach was constantly churning with angst and worry, and I felt physically sick from all the emotions I was feeling at once. Now, I knew I was going to walk into a room where my best friend was awake, able to talk to me, laugh with me, and smile at me. Nothing was one-sided, anymore.

    Well, almost nothing.

    The elevator dinged as the doors slid open, and I stepped out into the crisp white hallway. I strolled down the long corridor looking for the numbers of Chandler''s new room he''d been moved to shortly after my last visit. He was no longer on the trauma floor and was moving to the floor where most people were admitted when they were meant to be discharged. I stopped in my tracks when the door in front of me read the numbers 509 and raised a fist to knock lightly.

    Once I heard a muffled ''come in'', I opened the door slightly and entered. The first thing I saw was Chan''s unfairly toned upper body, clad in a long-sleeved grey shirt sitting upright in his hospital bed. He''d been in a coma for around two months, but still was able to maintain such a fit form. It didn''t make sense, but it wasn''t as surprising as it should have been. His bottom half was sprawled out lazily, legs covered in light grey joggers that he always managed to look so good in. I coughed shamefully, hoping to god that he didn''t notice my ogling.

    I hadn''t seen him in a week. I started going back to work again, as I was finally recouping. I was still shaken up and I still had nightmares, but it wasn''t nearly as bad as before. As nice as it was to finally go back and see my coworkers and do some work, I still wished I could see Chandler more often. When my shift ended in the evening, it was usually already half-past five. I never wanted to just show up at the hospital to see him because, for all I knew, he was probably exhausted from all the physical therapy he''d been doing and wouldn''t want visitors.

    Also, I knew his family was visiting a lot last week so I didn''t want to intervene. They needed time with him and I fully understood that. I''d been so utterly and completely shattered for those two months, I couldn''t even begin to imagine how they felt.

    It then occurred to me that he wasn''t the only one in the room. Sitting in chairs on the other side of the room were his mother, father, and older brother. Chan''s parents didn''t seem to notice me come in as they''d been engaged in a conversation with a nurse, laughing about something.

    Seeing me enter, Samuel rose from his seat and made his way over to me, "Hey, stranger!" he clapped my shoulder in a very stereotypical best-friend''s-brother kind of way that was familiar, "It''s been a couple of weeks since I''ve seen you! How have you been?" He and Chandler definitely shared their good looks. While Chan was handsome, sharp yet soft in all right places and charming as ever, Samuel was older by five years. He was more matured and refined, but more lean than his little brother. The whole family had dark, narrow eyes and gleaming smiles that stood out from anyone else''s.

    Everyone seemed to be jealous of the perfect bother duo, but I found myself being rather endeared by how alike they were rather than envious of their blessed genes.

    "Hey," I laughed lightly, grabbing the hand he held out toward me and shaking it lightly, "I''ve been doing well. What about you and the family?" I referred to his wife and their daughter of one year. I''d met his wife at their wedding a few years ago and seen her at various family get-togethers that Chandler insisted I come to. She was a very kind woman with soft features that matched her airy voice. Their daughter was adorable as well when I''d seen her and is very lucky to have a family that loves her so dearly.

    "We''re doing great!" His kind smile softened slightly as he turned his head to look at Chandler who I noticed was sprawled across the hospital bed messily just staring at us with a bored expression, "Well, I shouldn''t keep you from him much longer. He''s losing his mind from boredom."

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    We both let out a laugh and I excused myself to walk over to Chan''s beside, " ''Morning, Chan." I greeted him softly, patting him on his messy onyx hair in the way that felt so familiar, "How are you feeling?"

    "I''m good." he looked up at me as my hand ran through his soft raven locks. His eyes closed slightly at the feeling of my fingernails on his scalp before snapping them open again and quickly looking away. I realized how touchy I''d been and quickly pulled my hand away. It had been instinct, but I didn''t want to push it. He raised his head and gave me a small pout that pulled at my heart while I willed the flushing of my cheeks to cease, "Physical therapy has been going well. I can use my fingers pretty well again and I haven''t had any trouble walking...Of course, you would''ve known that if you''d been here." His left brow raised, clearly testing me in a familiar way that warmed a spot nestled deep in my heart.

    The corners of my lips turned down, my brows furrowing, "Hey," I said softly, "your family was here with you a lot. I didn''t want to be in the way and bother everyone." My hand began to slide off of the bed''s rail as I became restless with guilt, but Chan caught it before it could swing down to my side.

    He held my hand in his and yanked it a bit, causing me to stumble slightly closer to him. His leg that was hanging off of the side of the bed nudged between my own just barely, but the contact made me shiver nonetheless.

    "Henry," his voice was harder than usual, "What''s with that bullshit? You are family." His eyes never left mine and his hand squeezed my knuckles lightly as if forcing the words into my stubborn skin.

    I gulped, looking down at my feet, and nodded. I forced a small smile onto my face, looking back up at him and meeting his eyes.

    Family.

    His best friend.

    My heart selfishly sank to my stomach as the realization hit. That''s all I could ever be- nothing more, nothing less.

    He looked a bit off, eyes searching my face like he could tell that my smile didn''t quite reach my eyes. Thankfully before I had to say anything else to ease the moment and change the subject, a knock at the door sounded.

    I let out a sigh of relief and patted Chandler''s hand lightly before pulling my other one out of his grip. It always felt selfish holding onto him in any way because I knew it meant something completely different to me. Even as I''d gotten so used to hiding how I felt, my heart always yearned for more with each touch. It had become second nature to shove those desires far away and lock them up in an unreachable part of myself that nobody could find, but that didn''t mean that it was easy as breathing.

    I walked over to where his family was sitting on the other side of the room, not wanting to be in the way. I quickly greeted Mr. and Mrs. Lee and stood next to Samuel, his familiar and kind eyes relaxing me a bit as Dr. Perez walked into the room.

    "Good morning." he greeted everyone with a kind smile as he waltzed over to each of us to exchange a shaking of the hands. He strode over to the small swiveling chair next to Chandler''s bedside after greeting him as well and sat down, the nurse that had already been in the room quickly walking over to him and handing him a clipboard.

    "I come bearing great news!" He sounded ecstatic, the wrinkles on his matured face standing out with his wide grin. "Chandler''s physical therapy has gone extremely well over the past ten days. All of his blood tests and neurological scans have come back great and quite promising. At this rate, we feel that it is perfectly acceptable for him to be discharged as of tomorrow if he feels comfortable doing so."

    Mrs. Lee gasped in happiness, her hands going to cover her open mouth in awe as she looked to her husband who had an equally shocked look on his face. Samuel grinned brightly at his younger brother, giving him a goofy wink that made my own lips inevitably quirk up a bit.

    Chan''s eyes met mine, and for a second the whole world seemed to freeze. It was so damn easy to get lost in his gaze. His almond orbs could melt you down to a puddle in seconds, and the slightly bashful smile on his lips was enough to weaken my knees despite the fact that I was sitting. He was never one for loving all the attention he got, even if others constantly gave it to him. With that in mind, I couldn''t help but feel endeared as his cheeks pinked just slightly while the room exploded in happy laughter and cheer.

    It was a sight that could melt even the iciest of hearts.

    I was snapped out of my daze when Samuel clapped me on the shoulder absentmindedly as he said something to his parents. I couldn''t quite pick it up because my mind was still fuzzy with the thoughts of Chan and how affected I was by just his gaze meeting mine.

    I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly as I flitted my eyes back to Chandler''s for barely a second only to see him still watching me, but this time with a bit of a smirk on his lips. I choked a little, coughing into my fist as Samuel looked over to me with a raised brow and patted my back gently.

    I gave him a quick flustered smile, a blush hot on my cheeks as I looked down and closed eyes slightly.

    Would kill me to have a little chill?

    Dr. Perez spoke again after the noise died down, "While he is in great condition, he still shouldn''t be completely on his own yet- just in case something were to happen." He readjusted the black-rimmed glasses on his nose before continuing, "I highly recommend that he stay with family or someone who can look after him a bit for a few weeks."

    A silence filled the room, Mr. and Mrs. Lee sharing worried looks with one another before speaking.

    "We''d love for Chandler to come home and stay with us, then. However, we''re quite busy with the company and we don''t get home until late. I''m worried that something will happen while we''re gone." Worry was apparent in Mrs. Lee''s voice as she and her husband looked at one another and exchanged words quietly.

    Dr. Perez nodded in understanding, "I''m sure he will be just fine, but it''s a good idea to have someone you can trust on standby just in case." He scratched his chin as he waited patiently for the family to make this important decision and began filling out a few sheets on the counter in front of him as he spoke to the nurse stood to his side.

    "How about I ask Lena if she''d be alright with him staying over?" Samuel offered, eyes moving from his parents to Chandler.

    Their parents sighed, a bit deflated as they tried to weigh their options. Before anyone could speak, Chandler''s stern voice resonated through the room.

    "Absolutely not." frustration was evident in the depth of his voice as he ran a large hand down his face as he eyed his brother with a stony expression, "You and Lena have a kid to take care of. There''s no way in hell I''m barging in and making more work for you both to do."

    Samuel opened his mouth to speak at the same time their parents did, surely about to make a scolding remark about how he needs to be watched over as Dr. Perez suggested. However, Chan held up a hand, silencing them.

    "Also, I''m not a baby. I''m twenty-one years old. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and calling someone if I need help." His voice softened a bit as he looked at them pleadingly, "Please, don''t worry yourselves about me. I''m fine, now."

    A weary silence resonated through the room, and it felt stiff.

    A feeling pulled at my heart and my gut, telling me what to do. However, my brain tried to stop me.

    This is a bad idea, don''t even think about it.

    I cleared my throat slightly, causing everyone''s heads to turn in my direction a bit startled as if they forgot I was there for a moment.

    Chandler''s sultry eyes met mine, brows furrowing on his forehead slightly as he tried to read what I was thinking.

    Henry Sallow, there''s no going back after this.

    "Um," my voice came out soft and reluctant, restless hands wringing tightly in front of me. I had to force my mind to stop running at that moment so that I could do this-; I needed to shut out my thoughts and listened to my heart. For once, my brain was completely overpowered by the strength of my affections for Chandler. They refused to be ignored in that moment, breaking down walls and demanding attention.

    "Why don''t you come stay with me?"

 new beginning

    Chandler

    Everyone''s faces expressed shock and a bit of confusion as Henry cowered next to Sam. He suddenly looked like even he himself was surprised by his words; as if he had been thinking out loud and hadn''t meant to say anything at all.

    "Henry," my voice was slightly stern, knowing it was the only way he would actually listen to me instead of interrupting immediately, "I''m not letting you do that. You finally got back to working your normal schedule again at the publishing firm and I''m not putting you in any position that would give you even more to worry about. It''s the last thing you need right now."

    "Chandler, don''t worry about my job." His voice was soft as ever but held a bit more confidence than it usually did when he spoke. He furrowed his brows at me and I saw his fists clench lightly at his sides as if he were trying to become somewhat threatening. Even the thought of him being anywhere near scary was hilarious, "I can still work. I normally get off at half-past five anyway, so I can ask to get off about an hour or so earlier. I don''t start my shift until nine now, too."

    His eyes were desperate, and as I looked around at the faces of those I loved, I could see the pleading expressions they held. I knew they were worried and concerned because they care about me, but I hated the feeling of being pitied and babied because of something that none of us could have controlled anyways. It felt useless.

    "I really appreciate your offer. However, I really can take care of myself, Dr. Perez." I looked away from my best friend''s doe eyes and looked to my neurologist instead, hoping that he would finally agree with me and get my family to stop their nagging.

    Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Henry stepped forward from where he stood next to my brother, lips set in a pout and his round eyes slightly squinted. The sight alone almost made me spit out a cackle, but I suppressed it as he began to speak slowly, "Either you stay at my place, or I''m coming to yours."

    His tone was as if he were a mother scolding her child for eating too much candy; stern but soft enough around the edges that it didn''t cut too deep.

    I sighed and ran a hand down my face slowly, suddenly exhausted from this grueling conversation that I was now bound to lose.

    I peeked through my fingers to glimpse at his usually soft, gentle face. He looked like a dejected Chihuahua trying to embody a Pitbull. I closed my eyes again and let my head fall back against the plastic headboard with a bang that made my skull ache slightly.

    Henry Sallow, what am I going to do with you?

    <hr>

    I sighed and sunk into the soft leather seat of Henry''s car as he shuffled in and got situated in the driver''s seat. He looked over at me, eyes slightly widened innocently and a bright smile spreading from cheek to cheek.

    "You ready to go?" He fastened his seat belt and ran a hand through his bangs, eyeing himself in the rearview mirror after he acknowledged my nod. His hair had grown longer than he ever let it, the bottom curling around his ears and the strands going every which way in a type of messy that still conveyed an effortless elegance. I brought my own hand up and ruffled it out of habit, making it messier and disheveled in the most endearing way.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    "Chan," he groaned, pulling his head away from my abusive hand as I chuckled softly, "don''t make it even worse! My hair''s been an absolute mess, I should cut it soon." He seemed to be lost in his thoughts as he tried to smooth over his fluffy strands, eventually giving up.

    "Don''t," I voiced softly, a smile thick in my words as I looked over at him gently, "I like it like this. It''s cute." His nose wrinkled like a kitten as I tickled under his chin teasingly, a blush rising from his ears to his cheeks.

    He''s so timid and innocent.

    He''s so gentle, kind, smart, and caring.

    He''s a mixture of qualities that most people have to fake in order to get where they want in life.

    Henry doesn''t need to fake anything, though; he''s simply himself and that''s more than enough.

    He cleared his throat and started the engine, pulling away from the curb and starting down the road.

    Minutes went by in a comfortable silence, but my throat tickled with the need to say what I was thinking- to say what I''d been thinking ever since he convinced me to stay with him back at the hospital two days prior.

    "Henry," I broke the relaxing haze of quiet and watched as we pulled up to a red light. He looked over at me and raised his brows slightly as if questioning me, "you really didn''t have to do this. I can take care of myself."

    He huffed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head softly before he looked over at me again, "Chan. I know I didn''t have to, but I wanted to. I want to take care of you. Please," his eyes went soft and held a tint of something else there that I couldn''t quite grasp. His knuckles were white where he was gripping the steering wheel, "Just let me take care of you for now."

    I looked away and swallowed, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly as I gazed out the window once the light turned green. Henry glanced at me quickly to gauge my reaction to his words, seeming slightly on edge and anxious.

    "Okay." I smiled a little, letting the corners of my lips turn up inevitably as he let out a content sigh, seemingly happy with my response.

    The rest of the drive to Henry''s apartment was calm and decently quick. After we pulled into the parking garage and he parked in his designated spot, he got out of the car before I could and made his way to the trunk to retrieve my duffle bags. I grunted as I slipped out of the car as quickly as I could and made my way to the trunk to grab the rest of my belongings.

    "Hand me the other bags." I tilted my head in the direction of the second bag Henry had slung around his shoulder. Of course, he took the heaviest of the three bags I had packed, leaving me to take the lightest.

    "Nope." He smiled up at me cheekily, closing the trunk and locking the car before beginning to walk away toward the elevators. I huffed and caught the strap of a duffle bag he was trying to lug as he passed, causing him to come to a halt in front of me.

    He turned around and sighed, "Stop feeling so bad for everything. You''re here for me to take care of you. Now, I know I''m smaller than you but I''m sure as hell strong enough to carry two bags at the same time." He rolled his eyes slightly and stepped a bit closer to me.

    "Come on. Try to think positively about this. It''s like a little vacation!" He tried to cheer me, pushing at my chest gently. As he turned back around to head inside the complex, he smiled gently and looked at me with something I couldn''t catch buried deep in his sepia eyes.

    Before I could observe the sudden, somewhat vulnerable emotion he was holding between furrowed brows, he looked down, blinked, and looked back up at me with a faint dimpled grin that felt so familiar.

    He looked like he wanted to say something but was holding back. However, I didn''t want to pry, feeling bad enough that I was here and he was stuck taking care of me.

    He turned around, walked a few steps, and then stopped once again. Henry turned his body just enough to look at me, grabbing my arm gently to pull me up next to him so we were standing next to each other.

    "Think of it as..." he paused to think, humming as we linked elbows and started toward the garage''s elevators, "a new beginning."

    His honey eyes seemed to glow amber under the elevator''s yellow light as we stepped in and waited for the doors to close.

    "Yeah," I replied, looking down at him, feeling that strange tickle deep in my stomach again that I''d felt at the hospital as I stared into him rather than at him. I let my own orbs wander down to his wind-chilled nose and pink-tinted lips before blinking out of my daze and teasing,

    "A new beginning, all thanks to my hero."

 drowning in you

    Henry

    Things were bound to be different, and I knew that going into this. However, I was holding onto the hope that this would be a good change and not one that would make me regret my decision. As I gestured for Chandler to enter my apartment, I let out a slightly weary sigh as I closed the door behind him.

    It felt so odd; so different. The thing is, Chan had been to my apartment hundreds of times and vice versa. We often ate together, lounged around on the weekends, and he even ended up crashing on my couch most of the time. This was different, though.

    He wasn''t going to be leaving the next morning or asking me for permission to stay the night. He was always welcome, and I was always sure to remind him of that. However, my home was both of ours for now. The thought alone sparked a flame of excitement deep in my stomach as I tried not to let my mind wander too much.

    As excited as I was for this new journey, a part of me was worried. What if he gets sick of me? What if he starts to think that I''m only good in small doses? What if I do something that jeopardizes all of the hard work we''ve been putting into this friendship for so many years? I was snapped out of my thoughts when Chandler set his duffle bags next to the couch and looked around absentmindedly.

    "Um...where should I put my stuff?" He had a gentle smile on his face, like he wouldn''t dare let the quirk of his lips fall in the slightest. It was so nice seeing him content like this outside of the confines of that horrendously bland hospital room.

    "You can use the other side of my closet." I started to wander down the hall to my bedroom, knowing he would try to interject, "I have a double closet, remember? I only really use one side, anyways."

    Seconds later, tentative footsteps sounded from behind me, picking up the pace until they stopped at my heels. I strode over to my closet and opened the doors, revealing the empty side to the tall man and offering to take one of his bags.

    When I turned around, though, he was no longer standing there. Instead, he was plopped down on my bed, arms and legs spread dramatically around him. I shook my head fondly and let out a small, breathy chuckle.

    "Lazy ass." I mumbled, grabbing his duffle bags and lugging them over to the bed where I zipped them open and started to unpack them one by one.

    Every time I would spare a glance at the goofy man laid out on my bed, he would snap his eyes shut and pretend to be asleep. He even added fake, obnoxious snores to prove his point. I smacked him lightly on the arm and felt my cheeks flush as his stare bore into my face as I worked on getting him unpacked.

    When I looked down at him again, he didn''t bother closing his eyes. He just laid there, head propped up on an elbow that revealed his bulging biceps and the veins running through them. He watched me with a look in his eye that was slightly heavier than observant. He looked curious with a hint of something else that I couldn''t quite place my finger on. I was too focused on making sure it didn''t appear that I had looked to inquire any further.

    I was hanging up one of his sweaters that I secretly adored on him when I heard the faint squeak of my mattress and quiet movement from behind me. I didn''t think much of it, assuming he had to use the restroom or was leaving to get a snack.

    All of a sudden, an unmistakable warmth radiated from just behind me. I swallowed, my ears surely going red with how flushed I suddenly felt. Chandler''s breath tickled my neck and covered my skin in a blanket of goosebumps.

    I cursed myself mentally as I shivered. He was probably about to crack up, joking about how easy it was to mess with me. Instead, I felt his long, strong arms wrap around my middle and pull me into his chest from behind.

    My breath caught in my throat, hands freezing where I had them raised to smooth down over the sweater I''d hung up.

    "Henry," his voice was low and gravelly as his lips felt close enough to my pulse point that I could scream, "thank you for doing this- for letting me stay with you. You really didn''t have to, but you did."

    I let my eyes fall shut for a moment, trying not to think about how he stood at least an entire head taller than me, and how hard and warm his chest and stomach felt as my back was pulled flush against it.

    "You don''t have to thank me." I risked losing my composure completely and turned my head just enough for our eyes to meet, "You can always count on me, Chan."

    For a moment, his face was blank. His eyes were flitting all around my face before settling back on my own. He seemed to be looking for something, but the more he scrutinized me, the more flustered I became. His mind seemed to be going a mile a minute, but before I could say anything more, he seemed to snap out of his thoughts.

    He stepped back, took in a deep breath, and allowed a tiny smile to bloom onto his full lips. He patted the top of my head gently and turned back around like nothing had even happened. Instead of throwing himself back onto my bed, he pulled the last few remaining items from his duffle bag and started to hang them up himself.

    I tried not to feel disappointed at the lack of his warmth against me. It only lasted a moment, but I could still feel him on my skin. My flesh burned hot where he''d been touching me, and my cheeks were surely redder than a ripened cherry.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    I cleared my throat and scratched the back of my neck, my nerves still shot from our little interaction that took place just moments prior. It was pathetic how affected I was by anything he did. He didn''t even have to be looking at me; I was always so whipped. Moments like that, though, were what really got to me.

    The times where he would hug me for just a second longer than usual, or cuddle me just a little closer when we watched a movie on my couch, or when his gaze would linger just a second longer than it normally did.

    Those were the times that set my heart on fire, causing my pulse to rabbit in my chest and give me a slight, minuscule flame of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could feel an ounce of the same way for me as I do for him. The thing is, they most likely meant nothing to him. He wasn''t aware of how tightly he had me wrapped around his finger, absolutely clinging to him.

    Since he''d woken up from the coma, these moments were occurring more and more often than before. I decided to blame it on my bad luck and the fact that I''d missed him so much that I was focusing on the little things too much.

    When that didn''t suffice the nagging recesses of my mind, I tried to pin it to the fact that maybe he just missed me, and was simply enjoying the time we spent together as much as he could. Maybe he had some sort of awakening and wanted to cherish the time he spent with those he cares for.

    Surely that''s it, right?

    I tried not to get too hopeful, but now every time he looks at me, his gaze is heavier than before. It''s not the same, and I can''t quite decide if I like it or not. It''s lingering, leaving a hot trail wherever it goes, sending a scorching fire to my cheeks and blood to thrum wildly through my veins.

    When he touches me, it seems to mean something more. It''s like his skin is putting out an energy that wasn''t there before, sticking to my own and making my flesh catch fire with it.

    "I''ll let you unpack the last bag on your own." I announced into the quiet room, Chan''s low humming being the only sound other than my own voice, "I''m going to see what I have in the fridge to make for lunch."

    He nodded, giving me that sweet little smile again that made my heart backflip. He turned back around toward the closet, now whistling a tune absentmindedly as he got to work.

    I left the room, starting down the hallway and venturing to the kitchen where I ran a hand down my face. I leaned against the counter and sighed softly.

    Back in Chandler''s hospital room just days ago, every neuron in my brain was warning me. They told me this was a stupid idea and that I was only going to hurt myself in the end.

    ''He''s not just your best friend. You''re in love with him. What makes you think that you can live with him in your one-bedroom apartment and be totally fine? You''ll combust into a million pathetic, love-struck smithereens before the end of the first week. This isn''t just a week-long vacation with his family or a two-night sleepover.''

    My heart, however, was much more optimistic.

    ''So what if you''re in love with him? He''s not just some guy you have a schoolgirl crush on; he''s your best friend. You''d do anything for him. If the roles were switched, he would do the same for you in a heartbeat. Stop thinking with that overbearingly anxious and pessimistic brain of yours and start thinking with me instead.''

    Both sides of this coin had valid points, though. Being in such close proximity with Chan almost constantly was bound to be a bit difficult at first, considering how he could always set my body aflame with a single look. However, I''d had many years of practice on my record. The annual short family vacations I''d accompanied him on and weekly summer sleepovers meant that I had to become decent at hiding how I felt. I had to brush off his sly comments and teasing little jokes as if they meant nothing.

    I had to pretend that I wasn''t completely melting inside every time he showed even an ounce of affection.

    As much as I wanted to toughen it out and appear unbreakable, I had to admit that it was starting to get harder. Before the accident, I''d gotten pretty good at shaking it off and letting my mind tell me that it meant nothing to him; just a guy showing some love to his best friend of many years.

    Since he woke up, every look and every touch had me craving more instead of instinctively allowing them to ricochet off of me. He was the same Chandler Lee I''d known since Junior High. Yet, something slightly different radiated off of him and It was absolutely intoxicating.

    I jumped a bit as Chan''s lean figure ascended into the room, almond eyes wandering around the kitchen a bit before landing on me. I raised my eyebrows, "Already done unpacking?" I was a little shocked at how quickly he''d managed to finish.

    Then again, how long had I been leaned against the counter pathetically lost in my thoughts? For all I knew, it could''ve been half an hour.

    "Yup!" He sauntered past me and opened the refrigerator door, pulling it open and sticking his head inside childishly. A few moments later, he stuck his head back out, closing the door and huffing a little, "Let''s order fried chicken." He had a small pout on his rosy lips, cat-like eyes widening as he pleaded with me silently, "Come on, it''ll be my treat. It''s the least I can do." He refused to drop the act, waiting for my response while begging like a puppy.

    My heart thrummed weakly in my chest, laughing at me as it knew I''d already lost this battle.

    "Fine," I gave in, watching as a blinding, wolfish grin broke out on Chan''s lips as he raised two large fists victoriously,"-but you''re not paying next time."

    He nodded furiously, already making his way over to the couch to retrieve his cell phone to order the food though I was positive he ignored the part about me paying next time. I let my eyes fall closed as he leaned over the other side of the counter once he''d grabbed it and ruffled my hair with his large hand, letting the strands soothe between his long fingers for a moment before he pulled them away.

    His familiar cologne wafted through the air as he passed me to make his way into the family room, already dialing the number for delivery. I released a shaky sigh as I let the deep musky scent envelop my senses, getting lost for a second in my own little euphoria.

    The moments like this kept making it harder. Why couldn''t he just dial the damn number and order the chicken? Why did he have to come back over here and play with my hair like that? Why did he have to smell so damn good?

    I could still feel the ghost of his fingers on my scalp as if they were still there. Before, I would''ve already shaken it off. Now, I couldn''t seem to get my pulse to slow down. This was nothing new; he''d always been affectionate. It just felt different somehow, and I couldn''t help but blame myself for thinking so. Had all of my self control vanished in the last two months?

    It was only the first day, how was I supposed to last-at least, a few more weeks?

    His deep voice rumbled across the room as he spoke into the phone and rambled off our order. He paced back and forth absentmindedly as he did so, running a large hand through his charcoal locks and licking his plush lips out of habit.

    It would get easier, right? Being apart from him for so long had taken its toll, but this would pass. It''d be like before, where I could handle my emotions and thoughts and play it off like nothing has a deeper meaning.

    I could be his best friend who''s secretly in love with him again.

    With his lingering touches and heavy gaze, I was walking on quicksand; every step I try to take away from him only pulling me in deeper.

    Go easy on me, Chan.

    For my sake, have some mercy on me.

    After he finally ended the call, he turned toward me with a childlike look of excitement on his chiseled face, "The food will be here in an hour," he walked toward the hallway and announced, "I''m going to wash up!" I heard the click of the bathroom door closing, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again.

    Without him here, I felt like I could finally breathe some fresh air again. The relief was short-lived, and I knew it.

    Before I knew it, he''d be back. Making goofy remarks and sly comments while we wait for the food to arrive that''ll make my eyes crease around the edges and my belly ache from laughing so hard, he''d nestle deeper into the confines of my heart that I tried so desperately to close off.

    His soothing voice would pull me into a trance that leaves me wanting to hear only him until I couldn''t pick up on anything else. Those eyes, lips, and brushes of skin that I used to be able to accept so naturally were beginning to pull me under.

    All I could do is hold onto that small raft of assurance, trying to stay afloat. I could keep telling myself that I can do this. I''d just keep telling myself that I could go forever keeping the way I feel a secret as long as he''s happy.

    I could keep pretending that I wasn''t drowning in him exactly the way that I was afraid I would from the very beginning- endlessly and without anybody to pull me out from under the seismic tide.

 change of heart

    Chandler

    "Chandler," a soft, soothing voice woke me from my slumber, causing me to grunt and roll over in the soft bed and blankets I was currently tangled in, "Chan, I''ve got to get to work. I''ll be home at four. Be sure to rest today, okay?"

    I hummed, trying to open my sleepy eyes to wish him a proper goodbye, but my eyelids felt much too heavy. With a soft pat on my shoulder, Henry''s footsteps cascaded out of the room, the only other sound announcing his exit being the click of the front door closing.

    I stretched my arms over my head and groaned out into the cool air of the bedroom as I eventually opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Today was the first day since Henry welcomed me to stay with him that I''d be alone. He should be at work for, according to the clock on the bedside table next to me, seven more hours. I slowly breathed in a breath of air, nuzzling my nose in the comforter slightly. The familiar scent of my best friend clung to them, causing my eyes to fall shut and a warm tickle to spread in my gut.

    I snapped my eyes open, feeling a warmth rise to my cheeks as I realized just what I was doing. I cleared my throat and sat up, practically throwing myself off of the bed and making my way to the bathroom to relieve myself.

    After washing up, taking my time since there was no rush, I stepped out into the hallway and looked around for something to do. I stepped into the kitchen, toweling my freshly washed hair as I searched the refrigerator for something to eat. I was sifting through the groceries Henry and I bought the other day when something on the last shelf caught my eye.

    On a porcelain plate was a perfectly put together breakfast. Omurice was dressed with a smiley face made of ketchup and surrounded by sliced fruit. It was one of the few things I''d taught him how to make when we were just kids. When his mother was at work, he had nobody to do things for him around the house so easy and quick meals became something he enjoyed discovering.

    I couldn''t stop the airy laugh that pushed past my grinning lips as I pictured Henry slaving away in the kitchen to prepare breakfast before he went to work. I removed the plate from the fridge and grasped the little sticky note that was stuck to the plastic wrap that covered the meal.

    ''Eat me, Chandler! :)''

    The note was scrawled in familiar, neat handwriting that I knew so well. My heart warmed uncontrollably as I shook my head softly, not believing just how lucky I was to have a best friend that cared for me so much. My imagination spiraled as I imagined a certain chestnut-haired boy scrambling around the kitchen in his baby blue apron I''d bought him last year. I imagined his bangs pushed off of his forehead as he tried his very best to make the meal perfect for me.

    I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of the perfectly plated food, sending it to Henry along with a message.

    ''Thanks for the breakfast! You''re always coming to my rescue, aren''t you?''

    I put my phone on the counter after it sent and made my way to the couch to eat the home-cooked meal. After I finished, I cleaned up, making sure there were no crumbs in sight before strolling back to Henry''s bedroom.

    I sighed as I took in the sight around me. I felt guilty as I observed the messy bed and floor that was quickly becoming untidy. I got to work immediately, making the bed and even going as far as fluffing the pillows before vacuuming the carpet and making sure all of my clothes were put away neatly where they belong.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Wiping a bead of sweat from my brow, I sat on the foot of the bed. The clock read half past noon, and I tried to ignore the tinge of disappointment that circled in my stomach. I''d be home alone for a few more hours, and I felt like I''d already done everything that I could to make time pass by faster.

    I cleaned, ate breakfast, showered, and sat around. What else was there for me to do? I was strictly told not to drive under any circumstances as a safety precaution for a couple more weeks- not that I had a car at the moment anyways. The way everyone was putting it made it sound like I was bedridden. There was nothing I hated more than not being able to come and go as I please, and being alone made it harder to cope with.

    I would never admit it to anyone, but being alone often meant that I would get lost in my head. I would overthink things that didn''t matter, and I would let myself dwell on things that I couldn''t control.

    Henry knew this about me without ever having to be told. He says that I''m different when I''m alone; that I change into a smaller, weaker me that shows a vulnerable side of myself that I don''t allow others to see. I remember him once telling me that it''s a side of me that he savors in a bittersweet way when he gets to see it. I never quite understood why he would try and remember me that way- less chipper, obnoxious, and outspoken but instead more solemn and stuck in my head. According to him, it''s because it''s a side of me that I don''t feel comfortable enough to show openly. In a way, he reads me like a book that''s written in a language incomprehensible to everyone else.

    It was things like this that made me wonder how someone like Henry even exists in this world. He was nothing short of pure, sweet, kind, caring, witty, shy, and determined. Everything that people aspire to be all rolled into one person, he takes the cake. Yet, he doesn''t realize it. That reality always confused me the most about him.

    He overthinks his actions and chooses to help others instead of himself. If he had to choose between saving a stranger and saving himself, he''d pick them in a heartbeat. He focuses on his weaknesses but never fails to remind me of my strengths.

    It''s painful to see someone with so much good in their heart not give themselves credit. However, I suppose a hero wouldn''t be one at heart if they boasted about all of their good deeds.

    I finally decided on watching movies until Henry got home, settling myself on the couch and snuggling under a throw blanket that was extremely soft and welcoming. I let my mind run for a while, thinking about everything and nothing, but images of a certain someone continued to swirl around in my head.

    It was starting to get slightly frustrating. Why was I thinking of him so much? Yes, he''s my best friend, and it''s normal to think of someone you care about. Yet, it was happening more and more often nowadays.

    I never felt this way before. Henry had been I valued greatly for many years. We did everything together. We saw each other at our best and our worst. There was really no reason for me to start having these odd little thoughts out of nowhere, but my brother''s words started to push at me.

    ''He''s in love with you. It''s so obvious.''

    There was no way someone could be in love with another person for this long without coming clean. That would be complete and utter torture. How are you supposed to go on ignoring how you feel when you see the person holding your heart on a daily basis?

    Most importantly, what did all this mean for me? I''ve dated girls since I was fourteen. I went on countless dates and never once questioned it. I never had any feelings for guys like I had for girls. The soft feelings I always felt for Henry were friendly feelings that came from loving him like a best friend; loving him like a brother. I wanted to protect him and take care of him the way anybody would for someone they care about deeply. I''d grown up with him through the hardest and most pivotal years of our lives. Whatever Henry struggled with, I stayed beside him. We were stuck together at the hip for all that time; there was no way I could have mistaken romantic love for what I thought was platonic affection, right?

    The possession one feels over their best friend must be a common occurrence. Knowing that nobody gets to see their true colors and know all their secrets the way you do is a magical thing, so precious that it becomes a bit of an addiction that you fear it will get taken away. Surely, Henry had always felt that, too?

    Above all, why was this insistent tickle suddenly coming to life when he was around me in any way, and why wasn''t I able to shake it off? Something was different, but I refused to dwell on it too much. It would drive me insane.

    I felt guilty for not being able to let myself go completely when he was around because I was scared- of what these sensations mirroring what I would have felt for a high school crush and nagging voices meant when looking at the bigger picture. I couldn''t really find myself giving a shit about my where I was on the sexual spectrum or what others would think; I cared about why this was happening now and what it would mean for our friendship moving forward.

    Could I get over this on my own? If so, how?

    I shook my head and tried to think of something else, to waver my thoughts from his smell, face, and voice as I curled up underneath the blanket and tried to drift off into a sweet world of dreams that could hopefully make the time fly before Henry got home from work. As I started to finally succumb to the soft lull of bored sleep tugging behind my eyes, those soft doe eyes and long lashes burned into my brain stubbornly.

    I tried my best to ignore the fact that I could feel something changing deep inside my heart. Starting as a seed, it was developing quickly, roots thickening and spreading around all the recesses it could reach. It was beginning to squeeze at the organ, not an ounce of irresolution present as it began to sprout into a budding flower-small, but most definitely there.

 rock-bottom

    Henry

    Every day got a little bit harder. However, it also continued to get so much better.

    Every moment I got to spend with Chan seemed to outweigh the stress and anxiety that bit at me from the inside. Even though my head spun round and round at a speed that felt sickening, the steady thumping of my love-struck heart was prominent enough to distract me from it.

    I''d started working again earlier in the week. At first, I felt wary about leaving Chandler home alone. Yes, he knew where everything was by heart, but that didn''t mean that I didn''t wish I could tend to his every need, wish, and desire constantly.

    Even though he tried to brush me off and do things himself at first, he began to allow me to baby him a bit as the week progressed. It''d been making me a bit smug; to see him giving in little by little and just let me do as I please instead of putting up a fight.

    At the same time, I found it embarrassing because a big part of me couldn''t help but wonder if he was only letting me coddle him so much because he was aware of just how bad I missed him when I was away at work.

    Quite pathetic, isn''t it?

    I''d started making him breakfast before I went to work, as well. Some mornings gave me more time to make him a nutritious meal that would satisfy him, while others were rushed and left me grappling for random items and throwing them together without even a silly note stuck to the plate. Still, I tried my best. He knew it, and he was always sure to make sure I was aware of just how grateful he was for my efforts.

    I''d just gotten dressed minutes prior to hearing the creak of the bedroom door opening and footsteps sounding down the hall. I straightened the throw blanket strewn over the couch messily and propped the plush pillows back into their rightful positions. Due to my back being turned away, I was unable to see anybody standing there in the shadows. From the noise I heard moments before, I figured Chan was simply going to the bathroom or coming to get a glass of water.

    I grunted a bit as I straightened my stiff back and rubbed at my sore neck. Sleeping on the couch for the past week had really started to make me feel about ten years older than I was.

    "What the-" I jumped, a familiarly large hand steadying me at my lower back as I stumbled over in surprise at such sudden contact when I hadn''t been expecting it. Chandler looked down at me with his cat-like grin, perfectly straight teeth gleaming as he chuckled at my sudden reaction.

    "You scared me to death!" I yelled, punching his shoulder lightly and then closing my eyes as I placed a hand to my chest. My heart was racing, partly from the scare I just endured and also due to the fact that the tall man was in nothing but a pair of light gray sweatpants that hung low on his taut hips.

    His bare chest gleamed in the dim lighting of the room, and his abdomen was lined beautifully with teasing etches of a six-pack.

    "Sorry," he mumbled unapologetically, "you gotta head to work soon?" His right palm clasped my shoulder and turned me around again while his left moved from my lower back and slid up to the back of my neck, squeezing and rubbing at the tension there.

    I couldn''t help but let out a noise mixing between a small moan and a sigh, my sore muscles greatly appreciating the tender loving care after so many nights cramped up on the sofa. My eyes widened dramatically, my hand flying over my mouth to avoid any more embarrassing sounds from leaking out.

    I cleared my throat when Chan giggled childishly from behind me, "Feel good?" I squeezed my eyes shut, humming quietly as his strong fingers now began to work wonders on my shoulders.

    Does he not understand how sensual he sounds-especially in the morning? Maybe he does and he just likes fucking with people. Goddamn sadist-

    "Why are you up?" I managed, my voice more of a quivering whisper than anything else. I had to keep telling myself to calm down before I fainted. It wasn''t like Chan never touched me before, but like everything else lately, it felt different.

    "I wanted to see you off this morning. I''m always asleep when you leave." His voice was gruff with slumber and rang deep with a timber so low and sultry that just about anyone would drop to their knees in seconds.

    "You don''t have to do that, Chan." I started, finally opening my eyes and turning my head just enough to lock eyes with him in the dim lighting of the room, "You need your rest."

    His sharp almond eyes glinted as he blinked at me, his gaze lowering from his hands massaging my neck and shoulders before rising back to my own, "Don''t worry about it, it''s the least I can do. You''re even making me sleep in your own bed. I feel like the worst person on the planet."

    My face had yet to cool and my blood was rushing through my veins faster than a bullet train. His touch was setting my skin aflame, and I wished more than anything that time would stop so that I could burn in the feel of it all day long.

    I sighed and managed to muster up enough strength to pull away from his intoxicating touch, lowering his arms and putting them by his sides. I tried to ignore the sharp spark of heat I felt in my gut when his fingers caught on my own for just a moment before he let go.

    "You''re not a bad person. You''ve been through something horrible and it''s my job to make sure you''re being taken care of properly." I shot him a pointed look and let the corner of my lips quirk up slightly when he rolled his eyes and returned a sassy expression of his own before nodding.

    "Now," I backed away from the towering boy and grabbed my coat from where it laid across the kitchen table messily, and slung it on quickly. I grabbed my satchel and adjusted it on my sore shoulder before making my way back to him, "I have to go, or else I''ll be late. You should go back to sleep, it''s not even nine yet."

    Chandler sighed and stared at me for a moment, raising a large hand and smoothing it through my hair gently before nodding in defeat.

    "Fine," before I could react, I was being pulled into an absolutely smoldering embrace that filled my entire being with so many butterflies that I swore I was seconds from flying away, "It''s Friday today. Let''s have a movie night tonight, okay? Also, you''re sleeping in the bed from now on." My cheek was pressed to his bare chest, leaving me paralyzed and experiencing far too many emotions for one morning.

    His addicting smell wrapped around me sinfully as he had yet to let me go. He was just holding me to him like I was his childhood teddy bear.

    In no way, shape, or form was I mad about it. My brows furrowed slightly when his nose and mouth buried into the top of my head and nuzzled slightly.

    What?

    Did he just smell me?

    "Uh," my voice wavered slightly, quivering around the edges, "o-of course!" I managed to hold in my sigh of relief when he finally pulled away a bit, holding me at an arm''s length away. As despairing as it was to no longer be pressed against him, it was beginning to become overwhelming. My patience and ability to remain calm from the outside was wearing thin and I feared I was about to implode into smithereens if I smelled his familiar scent emanating from his warm skin for one more moment.

    Calm down, Henry! He''s just hugging you goodbye. Grow a spine and shake it off like always.

    "Alright." He smiled gently, his warm complexion suddenly brighter than the sun beginning to beam through the living room windows behind him, "Have a good day at work," he bent down to speak quietly in my ear before continuing,

    "Oh-" his breath tickled the shell of my ear, causing me to shiver, "don''t forget to check the refrigerator before you go."

    My eyebrows crinkled as I made a small noise of confusion, but before I could say anything else, he stood back to his full height and planted a goofy kiss directly on top of my head like a mother sending off her child before turning back toward the hall and bounding into my bedroom casually.

    "What the hell," I mumbled, one hand touching one of my burning cheeks and the other patting my hair where he''d kissed just seconds prior.

    As if I wasn''t already struggling enough, you just had to do that?

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    I shook my head and cleared my throat, suddenly very aware that I hadn''t moved from the same spot in most likely over a minute and was probably going to be late.

    I strode over to the fridge in a disoriented state, my mind too hazy from the event that just transpired between me and the man I''d secretly loved for years to fully comprehend anything. I opened the door and looked inside, not noticing anything out of the ordinary until a Tupperware container with a sticky note on top caught my attention from the fourth shelf.

    I reached in and grabbed it, the cool glass doing little to soothe my skin that was smoldering with embarrassment. A little message was scrawled onto the note placed on the lid in endearingly messy handwriting.

    ''I know you don''t eat breakfast before work- and we both know coffee doesn''t count. I made you this while you were showering last night, so you''d better eat it up, or else I''ll call your mom and she''ll have to come force feed you herself.

    I''m dead-serious,

    -Chan''

    My heart positively soared through my chest and refused to land as a smile so wide that it made my cheeks ache bloomed across my face. I couldn''t hold back little airy chuckles as I re-read the note a few more times before glancing over at the clock on the oven.

    "Crap," I mumbled to myself, quickly opening my bag and placing the container inside before making my way to the front door.

    I slipped my shoes on and opened the door, stepping out into the cold hallway of the apartment complex. I couldn''t find it in myself to wipe away the giddy smile that stained my lips as I closed and locked the door behind me, my mind racing with thoughts of nothing but Chandler the entire way to work.

    <hr>

    Four o''clock couldn''t have come soon enough. Lunch had rolled around after what felt like an eternity, and I''d spent most of it texting Chan, thanking him profusely for the delicious meal he prepared for me. It was simple and perfect- tea sandwiches and neat slices of fruit.

    I savored every last bite, practically licking the container clean. I sent him a photo of the empty Tupperware, proving to him that I ate and was, in fact, a good boy.

    After lunch, time quickened a bit when I''d gotten a few new manuscripts to edit before it was time to leave. The drive home luckily wasn''t hindered by much traffic, and I thanked the gods when I finally made my way inside of the apartment. The warm air engulfed me immediately, the sweet smell of home, warmth, and Chandler all greeting me at once.

    One of those smells I had adored over the others, and I''m sure it''s not hard to guess which one.

    "I''m home!" I sang as I slipped off my shoes and shrugged off my coat, hanging it neatly on the hook beside the front door. I walked past the foyer into the family room to see none other than a certain sleepy-looking young man sprawled out on the couch surrounded by a mess of blankets and pillows.

    "How was work?" He lifted his head first to look at me from his slouched position before sitting up properly and patting the couch next to him. His full lips parted in a warm smile, his unfairly chiseled face welcoming me as I made my way over to the sofa and sat down next to him.

    "It was a long day." I leaned back and let out a tired sigh as I let my eyes close for a brief moment, "How was yours?" I forced my eyes to open so that I could look at him in all of his cozy, soft glory.

    "It was alright. I''ve been waiting for you to get home so we could start our sleepover!" He threw both fists into the air dramatically and wiggled on the couch from next to me.

    I laughed at the childish excitement written all over him, shaking my head softly before pumping my own fists in the air and copying him. Once our laughter had down, he leaned forward slightly and grabbed his phone from where it laid on the coffee table.

    "Pizza?" His eyes twinkled as he waited for my response, the deep chocolate color seeming to turn amber in the center near his pupils as his eyes calmly stared into my own.

    "Sounds great." I patted the top of his unruly, freshly showered hair without a seconds thought and stood up from the couch to make my way to the bathroom, "I''ll be right back, I''m just going to wash up really quick."

    He hummed, preoccupied with dialing a number for the pizza as I excused myself and went to the restroom with a fresh towel slung over my shoulder.

    Before the door clicked shut, Chan''s deep voice boomed through the hall as he called out to me from the family room, "Don''t forget to put on something cozy!"

    I laughed, not believing just how cute and soft someone as hard-edged and tough-looking as Chandler Lee could be.

    "Yes, sir!" I teased before I closed the door and undressed for my shower.

    After quickly washing my hair and scrubbing my body clean from the day''s grime, I stepped out of the porcelain shower and fastened the plush white towel around my waist. As soon as I opened the bathroom door, the heavenly smell of pizza wafted through the air around me, causing my mouth to water as I let myself imagine just how good it was going to taste.

    I quickly made my way into my bedroom in search of the coziest pajamas I owned. I considered putting on my embarrassing bunny onesie as it was softer than silk, but decided against it because Chan wasn''t wearing his teddy bear one.

    Also, all he ever did was poke at my cheeks and coo at me constantly every time I put the damn thing on. Not that I minded the attention from him, but it definitely didn''t make it any easier to hide just how flustered he could make me with only a few teasing words.

    I decided on soft white cotton socks, gray sweatpants, and a cream hoodie that never failed to warm me up on even the coldest nights. I quickly toweled my hair dry enough that it wasn''t dripping wet, but it also wasn''t anywhere near dry either.

    I tousled my fingers through the wet strands and decided to let it air dry, too tired to care that I most definitely resembled a wet rodent. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I decided that it was acceptable before exiting the room. I pulled the soft material of my sweatshirt tighter against me, the evening springtime air chilling my apartment a bit more than what I usually preferred.

    It wasn''t until I came bounding into the family room, eager for pizza and some one-on-one time with my best friend that I realized our coordinating outfits. I blushed slightly as I took note of our similar choice of clothing- sweatpants and soft sweaters. While I was in gray and cream, Chandler was in black joggers and a light blue sweater that made his already flawless complexion glow even more.

    He pulled back the blanket he had draped over his lap in an invitation for me to join him on the sofa. I smiled lightly as I scooted in just enough that our knees bumped under the blanket and licked my lips as he opened the pizza box and began to place a piece on two paper plates for each of us.

    I gratefully took mine when he handed it to me and dug in. The cheese melted deliciously on my tongue as I chewed, and tried desperately to ignore the way my ears pinked slightly as Chan moaned around his mouthful. The sounds he was making were innocent- just a person enjoying some good food.

    To me, however, they were fueling far too many erotic thoughts that were sure to earn me a one-way ticket straight to hell if I didn''t clear my mind that instant.

    I sighed out in relief when he grabbed the remote control and began to search for a movie to watch on Netflix, directing my mind to a different topic other than just how incredibly sexy the man sitting inches away from me was. We settled on a cheesy horror flick that didn''t seem scary in the slightest and ended up cracking up at the horrible acting less than five minutes into the movie.

    Slowly, the pizza box emptied and our stomachs were filled with greasy food that made us feel about twenty pounds heavier. We''d gone from sitting upright next to each other to Chandler sprawled out behind me while I laid in front of him facing the television. It wasn''t anything new- we often ended up laying down in various positions like this whenever we watched movies. It was comfortable, and it was platonic.

    At least, to him it was.

    Usually, there was more space between our bodies than this. Or, if we were touching, it was at the legs or sides as we shared a blanket. During those situations, I was able to force my mind to block out how warm Chan felt so close to me and how good it felt to hear his deep, obnoxious laughter just inches away from my ear. I was so used to being around him that hiding my feelings came naturally.

    Tonight, my spine tingled as my sweater began to ride up slightly on my lower back and jumble up a bit, leaving a patch of exposed skin that was pressed onto Chan''s sweater-clad abdomen. We''d been quite close more times than I could count, but this was practically spooning.

    Earlier, my back had been aching, so Chan had suggested that I lay down as well. He insisted that the couch was plenty big and he was more that happy to scooch back to make some room- so long as I promised not to bite.  With the way his large stature felt like a predator stalking its prey from behind me, I was the one who was at risk of being bitten.

    Even through the soft fabric, I could feel each ripple of his abs with every one of his chuckles, and every breath he took pressed our bodies just that much tighter together. It felt like I was, quite literally, sinking into him. It was as if we were morphing into one being on this damn sofa in the middle of my family room.

    I closed my eyes for a moment and tried desperately to calm my racing heart, almost ready to jump up and excuse myself to the restroom just so I could get away for a minute and breathe.

    Then, he sloppily slung an arm over my upper waist and pulled me impossibly closer to him. If there was any amount of space between our bodies before, it was now diminished.

    My eyes snapped open and I held my breath, scared to move in case this was all just one amazing dream I was about to wake up from. He nuzzled his face into the back of my neck, yawning as he wiggled slightly to get more comfortable. His breathing evened out from behind me, and I swallowed.

    What the fuck do I do? Is he moving in his sleep?

    Do I get up? I can''t just lay here like this all night.

    I bit my lip, squeezing my eyes shut as I lifted my right leg slightly to move it off the couch and sit up. Before I could lift my head and make my escape, a rich, heavenly deep voice sounded from behind me and sent my stomach churning in the best way possible.

    "Where are you going?" Chan''s voice was rough and jagged around the edges, sleep creating an edge on his tongue as his tone carved into my bones and left me shivering helplessly.

    "You''re tired," I tried my best to make an excuse- anything to get away and relieve myself of this sadistic pleasure I was caught in, "...We should go to bed."

    "Ngh...," he whined lowly, pulling me in tight from where his arm constricted around my waist. The little breath I previously had left my chest, seeming to run far away. Suddenly, I felt as though I could cry out of frustration.

    "Stay here." his thumb rubbed little circles into the skin of my stomach through my soft sweater, melting me into a puddle of mush, "Just..." He slurred, forcing me to realize that he wasn''t fully conscious and wasn''t truly aware of what he was about to say, "Sleep here."

    I sighed, bringing a hand to my forehead and rubbing. I already knew there was no chance for me. How the hell could I refuse that? I swallowed, almost cackling maniacally at just how pathetic I felt in this moment- like a little girl who finally got to cuddle her crush.

    There was no way I could go back now. What was one night going to do? It wouldn''t miraculously change anything. Whether I slept right next to him or across the country, the way I felt about him would remain set in stone as the sun rose high in the sky the next morning. Besides, Chan''s the one who asked me to stay. Even if he regretted it in the morning and shoved me away, If it''s what he wanted at the time, I''d do it.

    I was well aware that I was using his half-asleep state as an excuse to keep myself trapped in this heavenly hell. Even if I tried to fight it with balled fists, I''d lose. After all, I could never say no to Chandler.

    I can push my feelings to the side for one more night, right? Even if it feels more like drowning than simply ignoring at this point.

    The way his voice seemed so frail and almost vulnerable made my chest tighten with too many emotions than I could handle at one time. I couldn''t refuse him- I didn''t want to refuse him.

    "O-Okay." I hummed, bringing my leg back under the blanket and readjusting them over us so that we were completely covered by the thick mass of warmth and comfort. My voice was quiet and nothing more than a whisper. If it weren''t for the tiny sigh I heard from behind me, I would''ve assumed he''d already fallen back to sleep.

    Chandler Lee, you''re absolutely- positively- going to kill me.

    The weight of his strong arm around my middle felt like a lifeline as I closed my eyes and let myself get lost in a trace of his cologne that began to cling to my own skin. The steady rise and fall of his strong chest pulled me into a drowsy sleep like a tidal wave of euphoria as I finally began to let go and just enjoy this moment I''d been given.

    My erratic heartbeat began to slow after what felt like an eternity and the blazing of my cheeks began to burn out, extinguishing as I let myself slip into this moment. It felt like saying, ''To hell with it!'' and diving headfirst off of a cliff. Like taking a sip of alcohol after years of being sober, I allowed myself to get drunk off of him.

    One night. That''s it.

    Live in this moment; in how he feels against me and how his warm breath heats the back of my neck as he drifts back into a world full of dreams.

    If I was going to drown in him for one night, I may as well sink to the very bottom.

 maybe

    Chandler

    Early morning sunlight beamed through the living room curtains and over my face, causing my eyes to scrunch and shy away from the blaring abuse. I nuzzled my head into something warm and soft to escape the sudden onslaught.

    My brows furrowed slightly as I continued to rub my face against the object in front of me. The smell was of laundry detergent and something slightly sweet, but most importantly- unmistakably Henry Sallow.

    My eyes snapped open, allowing me to take in my surroundings. Curled up in front of me was a sight that made my breath catch in my throat. Henry laid pressed up against me, face nuzzled into my chest.

    Warm puffs of air escaped his pouted lips as he slept peacefully. I took note of how his hands were curled up between our stomachs and his sweatpant-clad legs intertwined with my longer ones.

    Both of our bodies were tangled in a mass of blankets strewn over the couch. As I looked down at his sleeping face, I tried to convince myself that the heat from all of the covers we were enveloped in was the reason for this strange heat that began to climb up the back of my neck.

    Henry''s hair was a messy halo around his head as he laid on my bicep, the strands looking unimaginably soft where they stuck up in random directions.

    His naturally groomed brows were lightly furrowed as he stirred for a moment in his slumber, eyes scrunching for a moment before he went still once again and dozed back off.

    My gaze traveled to where his wispy lashes cast little shadows on his cheekbones, slightly rosy from sleep. His eyes were always ones that you couldn''t forget. There are faces you just remember, not knowing why.

    In the beginning, Henry had always been the quaint, quiet boy in the back of the classroom. Prim and proper, his uniform was consistently in perfect shape. His small body was as pressed and professional as his black-framed glasses and perfectly groomed hair.

    Despite my simply noticing him, it wasn''t until we''d first interacted the day he helped me all those years back that I somehow immediately knew why his face was so unforgettable to me.

    It was like an unspoken bond. Nothing ever needed to be said, but the way his honey eyes slightly sparkled in the early evening sun when I''d seen them up close for the first time showed me many things that I hadn''t ever seen before.

    His eyes were like orbs of light that seemed to hold all knowledge and wisdom. They reflected in the light, shying away from my own but causing me to slip into a small, curious trance when he finally looked me in the eye.

    They were round, doe-like, and innocent. It was as if they hadn''t once seen any darkness. Unfortunately, I learned that presumption wasn''t true later on. His face just seemed to contain this enthralling quality that made you want to stare at it all day long. It made you so curious- you wanted to read him like a book that you couldn��t put down until you finally got some answers. Something about him made me curious. Why was this small boy with his big, pretty, and wise eyes so sheltered?

    Back then, I''d assumed it''s because he just had slightly more unique features than I was used to seeing- a straight little nose, pouted lips, and doll eyes that looked like they should belong to a girl instead of a young boy.

    As I observed his soft face in all of its glory now, it started to make sense.

    I still didn��t know exactly what it was about him that made me crave more, but with each sunrise it was becoming harder to resist.

    It felt like I was about to cross a line that neither of us physically drew ourselves but one that created itself all those years ago.

    My pulse began to pick up as I let my eyes guiltily travel down to Henry''s mouth. His lips were pouted and rosy, suddenly looking incredibly inviting where they opened slightly to release tiny puffs of air as he slept peacefully.

    Suddenly, I wasn''t so sleepy anymore.

    My body was aching for something that my mind was trying to deny. No matter how much I tried to push it all away and ignore it, it came back to bite me in the ass twice as hard.

    It was like this constant need to be closer to him was planted within me. More than any childhood attachment I''d ever felt- this was more than a comfort thing. When he was at work, I waited as the hours dragged on one by one. I tried to busy myself by cleaning, watching a movie, and just lounging around. I wasn''t allowed to start driving yet, so my freedom was limited.

    I was like a little loyal puppy; tail wagging and waiting for its owner. When he got home, it was like every minute spent by his side was no longer enough.

    Somewhere in the back of my mind was a past shadow of myself. It was laughing at me, pathetically wondering how I''d managed to live my life before the accident.

    Back then, we saw each other often, but we still had our own lives. We both worked during the week and didn''t see each other in person until Friday nights and over the weekends.

    Now, I saw him every day and couldn��t even fathom the thought of being back in my own apartment, lonely and devoid of the clumsy boy wandering around humming and mumbling to himself- just simply being there.

    I didn''t know exactly how we''d gotten into the current predicament. We''d been watching a horrible movie and obviously dosed off after I��d convinced Henry to get more comfortable and lay down. I refused to accept that my own selfish curiosity and need to be closer to him was what drove the suggestion in the first place.

    Yet, the searing heat I could feel against me was a nearly painful reminder that this brought a whole new, intimate meaning to a sleepover.

    Warmth spread to my cheeks at the fact that Henry was comfortable enough that he fell asleep as easily as I did. Hell, he clearly slept so well that he didn''t wake up and notice how we''d managed to get twisted under the warm blanket strewn across our bodies.

    Or, if he did, he didn''t care enough to move.

    An excited spark lit in my stomach at that thought.

    Why? Did I want Henry to feel these odd feelings for me like I did for him as of late? I didn''t have any answers to the questions that were constantly biting at me. I was crumbling under the weight of denial sitting heavily on my shoulders.

    It''s not like we hadn''t been this close before, but back then, it didn''t really mean anything. It was a natural instinct I felt to take care of the intricately delicate, caring, and soft boy that I was lucky enough to call my best friend and make sure he always felt safe. It wasn��t ��cuddling�� per say, just offering mutual comfort for both of us the way one would do with a sibling.

    In that moment, though, I was almost afraid of how close our bodies were to one another. I felt like the bad guy- like a villain with hidden intentions.

    I felt guilty for committing a crime that I hadn''t even done.

    However, my heart was trying to tell me something that clearly had more power over my fragile, sleepy state than my weak conscience. My hand seemed to move on its own, my pointer finger slowly extending and hovering over the slope of his pert bottom lip.

    My breath caught in my throat as the pad of my finger grazed against him at last. The skin there was soft and supple, pliant as I let my finger gently run across it back and forth a few times before I forced myself to stop.

    Why is this happening?

    I''d seen this face time and time again, but studying it up close like this without the threat of him knowing allowed me to see deeper than I had before. I was opening up a new door that I never thought I would be turning the handle to.

    Maybe it was unlocked all along, just waiting for me to give it a push and look inside.

    My fingers were no longer obeying my brain, charged with an energy that I couldn''t contain. My fingers gently cupped the side of his face, hand shaking slightly when his soft cheek nestled perfectly in my palm.

    That was another thing that just seemed to make sense- we fit just right. When I pulled him close, he was just small enough to fit right up next to me. I towered over him by quite a few inches, making him appear even smaller even though he was average height.

    Like two unexpectedly matching puzzle pieces, we meshed in all the right ways.

    My thumb stroked the top of his cheekbone at first before cautiously moving toward his nose and then settling under his chin for a moment before moving back up and resting on his smooth cheek. The skin seemed to meld to my hand- petal-soft, giving, and emitting an addicting warmth so strongly that for a moment, I was sure I''d never be able to move again.

    It then occurred to me just how close our faces were. At that moment, everything else seemed to stop. The low buzz of the television dissipated into thin air, leaving the room silent save for my heart pounding wildly in my ears.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    What the hell am I doing?

    My movements were slow and careful as if he were a ticking time bomb just waiting to blow. I swallowed, my head slowly inching closer to his as my mind began to fuzz over.

    My heart was pounding hard in the rigid confines of my ribcage, and I began to fear that Henry would wake up from the sound. At that point, I couldn''t seem to stop myself from giving into the burning curiosity of what he felt like. No longer control my own body, I was positively itching to see what would happen.

    My eyes searched his face for any signs of movement, checking to see if he was still asleep.

    This is a stupid idea.

    You''re not thinking straight.

    There was a pun I could have made there, but I pushed the thought far away as my eyes began to flutter shut, our noses just barely brushing. Henry''s soft breath tickled my lips as we laid just an inch apart. His smell was intoxicating, invading all of my senses as the lingering smell of his body wash and shampoo began to cling to the surrounding air.

    I really should stop-

    I took in a deep breath, careful not to jostle the sleeping boy on my arm as he laid on my bicep just centimeters away from my face. My arm had gone numb from supporting the weight of his head, but the pins and needles did nothing to deter me from what I was thinking of doing.

    My mind kept yelling at me-screaming to stop and realize that whatever was going on couldn''t grow into anything more and that I needed to turn around and walk away before I did something I would regret. My conscience was staring me straight in the face, warning me to close this door that I''d mistakenly found the key to.

    Why did I have to suffer this way with no answers? What was this force that I''d been feeling since I woke up in that hospital bed? Why was that strange tickle of butterflies and angst spreading further and further inside me every day?

    Why isn��t it going away?

    It wasn''t the same butterflies that I''d gotten from seeing a girl I liked in school or being around someone I found especially attractive. It was a pulsating flame that was positively raving within me, stronger than anything else I''d ever had to endure before.

    The scariest part wasn''t that the feelings revolved around another man, although that alone was a challenge in itself for me to process. The horror rooted from the fact that the cravings were aimed toward my best friend- this person that I��d known for years and had shared my life with for so long.

    How could it be? Every time I told myself it couldn''t be anything more than my fragile mind trying to cope with the trauma from the accident, one look at Henry jolted something inside me in a way that forced me to face reality.

    It started in the pit of my stomach, only a far away ache that I could ignore. It then spread through me like a wildfire more and more, ceaseless and unforgivingly scalding as it worked its way into every part of my being.

    I needed to know if this feeling was a new longing for Henry that I never felt before, or if it was just a deep fear rooted from the fact that I was merely ripped from someone whom I held so close to my heart.

    I felt like I was lying to myself, but I didn''t know why. I couldn''t let myself hold back and simply do nothing about these foreign feelings anymore.

    I felt like I was going absolutely insane, wanting to jump out of my own skin and run somewhere- anywhere else but this cage I was trapped in with these festering voices in my head. They cawed and wildly swooped at me like angry crows, vicious and unforgiving until I did something to stop them.

    "Just do it." I whispered to myself quietly, lips inching so close to Henry��s that there must have been less than a millimeter of space between us.

    This was it.

    If I felt nothing, I would know. He was asleep- he wouldn''t feel it. Just a quick brush of skin to see if these feelings meant what my cocky older brother and a few friends claimed were true since day one; that there was something much deeper between Henry and I that I was simply too dense to see before.

    It was incredibly selfish, and I wasn''t proud of it. Yet, I needed confirmation before I lost my mind completely.

    I sucked in one last breath, holding it as I leaned forward the last inch and prepared to feel our mouths connect, not knowing if I was about to feel an explosion of fireworks like you see in movies or feel absolutely nothing at all.

    Just then, the tension that had been screaming at me louder than anything else in the universe snapped like a taut string being plucked, spiraling to a skidding stop. The daze I''d been so lost in shattered, clattering to the floor in pieces all around me as the doorbell rang.

    "Shit!" I jumped up, my limbs flailing as shock and surprise nearly gave me a heart attack. My wild movements sent a previously sleeping Henry to the ground, falling to the floor with a thud.

    A small groan could be heard from the floor next to the couch as his feathery-haired head peered up slowly.

    "-the hell is going on?" his morning voice was thick with sleep, wide eyes puffy as he looked around in confusion.

    "T-the doorbell scared me." I managed to stutter, "I''m so sorry! I didn''t mean for you to fall. It''s just-you were laying on me and I didn''t expect the doorbell to ring and-" I scrambled to help him up from the floor, dusting off his sweater and checking him for bruises much like a worried mother.

    "I''m fine, Chan. It''s alright." Henry chuckled at my panicked state, looking up at me with those big doe eyes that affected me more and more every time I saw them.

    He sleepily wobbled to the door with a hand on his surely sore bum. I flushed as my eyes unconsciously tracked the subtle sway of his hips and the way his pert backside filled out the sweatpants he was adorned in just right.

    I coughed awkwardly and scratched the back of my neck, averting my vision to the wall in shame when he opened the door and bent down to grab something that was just on the other side of it.

    "It''s a package..." he mumbled more to himself than anyone else, "must be the new phone case I ordered a couple of days ago." He added after closing the door and making his way to the kitchen table to set down the small box. He rounded the counter and opened the refrigerator, peeking his head inside before shouting to me, "You hungry?"

    "Uh," my mind was a jumbled mess. Nothing made sense and all of my limbs were suddenly starting to feel numb. I needed to get away from him as fast as possible. He was everywhere- his smell, his belongings, and his voice. It all surrounded me and suddenly it felt like I was drowning, "Just a little... I''m going to go wash up. I''ll be out in a bit."

    I didn''t wait for his response before I made a bee-line for the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I took a deep breath and looked at myself in the mirror. My onyx hair was disheveled and my eyes were still puffy from sleep. My sweater was wrinkled and suddenly smelled far too strongly like the man I spent the night holding like my damn life depended on it.

    I didn''t think twice before stripping from head to toe and throwing my clothes into the hamper behind me. I quickly turned the shower on and stepped in. The water was cold and unforgiving, but I welcomed it as it chilled my scalding skin.

    It woke me up and began to clear the fog that had been thickly swirling inside my head just seconds prior.

    What was I thinking?

    What if I''d really done it? What if I actually kissed Henry?

    If that damn doorbell hadn''t scared me so badly, I would''ve done something I couldn''t even fathom to imagine.

    I shook my head and let the ice-cold water cascade over my head and down my back as I felt shame crash into me harder than a tidal wave.

    Part of me was being ripped apart. I wanted things to be as they were before the accident- before I slipped into a coma and woke up two months later with strange, crazy feelings toward my best friend that I couldn''t even explain.

    I scrubbed my hair and body clean of his smell and watched with a slight pang in my chest as the suds drifted down the drain and left me in the shower feeling alone and empty. Despite the scorching heat of the now warmed up water, I was so cold.

    It must have been a sign. Clearly, I wasn''t thinking about my actions and was acting on pure curiosity. It was reckless, clumsy, and too close to becoming a big mistake.

    I could have ruined things between us. Even if I''d felt nothing, I knew in that moment that it still wouldn''t have been the same. Still, the way my pulse never failed to pick up in his presence forced me to acknowledge everything that''d changed.

    I felt disgusted with myself- with the fact that I almost took advantage of him while he was in such a vulnerable state.

    I almost crossed the line, but I had to think that what almost happened just wasn''t meant to be, not then and maybe not ever. I had to remind myself that all these feelings may be something my subconscious cooked up in order to seek comfort. The doctors said that I''d be in a more fragile state of mind and that physical and mental support from my loved ones is vital to my recovery.

    Even if it was empty words I was forcing down my throat, I swallowed it each one despite the blood every sharp lie left in its wake. Running in circles was exhausting, but I didn''t know what else to do. As I got out of the shower and tied a plush white towel around my waist, I took a deep breath and mumbled little nothings to myself.

    Full of faked confidence, I put on a smile and exited the bathroom.

    "Breakfast is almost ready!" Henry''s small voice sang from the kitchen and drifted down the hall, shouting over the sizzling of food he was cooking. My mouth watered at the smell of bacon being fried on the stove, warm and positively delicious.

    "I''ll be there in a minute!" I called back, making my way to the bedroom where my clothes hung in the closet. I was trying desperately to make it feel normal; like this morning''s events never transpired. After I slipped on some lounging clothes and made my way to the kitchen, all the hope I''d managed to muster just seconds prior faded.

    Henry waltzed around the kitchen in his little apron, over-grown bangs pinned back with a small clip and glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

    Damn you.

    I gathered plates, glasses, and silverware for us to eat with as he began to plate our food. The tension inside my stomach began to easy slightly but the layers of anxiety and shame continued to bite at me restlessly. Perhaps I was losing it. Was this my spiral into insanity? My mind flashed to an image of a prim and proper newscaster reading a breaking headline, "Young Man Wakes from a Two-Month Coma, Beating All Odds but Goes Completely Insane".

    I couldn''t even laugh at the thought as my mind began to seriously question the severity of whatever was going on. I wasn''t sure how to pull myself out of this hole I seemed to dig myself into. I was losing control, and I didn''t quite know how to get it back.

    I positively couldn''t tell him when I didn''t even know how to fathom any of it myself. That would bring nothing but confused rejection and, most likely, a mess that I wasn''t so sure I could clean up.

    As we ate, the food became a thankful distraction from everything. For just a little while, things were almost as they always had been. Even if it was just for a bit, I was able to forget about everything else. It was just Henry and I. Jokes were cracked and stupid stories were looked back on, leaving us gasping for air and holding our full stomachs. It felt familiar and comforting, my mind finally not scrutinizing my every thought and action. Yet, no perfect moment lasts forever. We had to move on and start the day, giving me time to get lost in my head again.

    I could only take so much. My sanity was slipping out of my grip like sand pouring out from between my fingers. It was a constant reminder that something was clearly changing, even if I didn''t know exactly what it is and why it was happening. You can can try to ignore something as much as you want, but there will always be a consistent nagging that makes you more frustrated each time.

    No matter how bad I wanted to jump ship and call it a day, I was already here. Whatever was going on had demanded attention whether I liked it or not. No matter how much I tried to deny it, I was falling into deep shit.

    Would I make it out unscathed? I couldn''t be sure.

    As I washed the dishes in the sink, Henry began to clean up the couch that had blankets strewn all over it from last night. He giggled at a show playing on the TV every few moments, leaving me a mass of fond looks and head shakes as I was reminded of just how innocent and childlike this man still was.

    No matter how scared I was by what was happening to me, a tiny voice in the back of my head tried to rationalize the situation. It realized that as long as it involved Henry, who knew me better than anyone and I could trust with my life, I didn''t truly mind why or how I was falling down this rabbit hole. Don''t get me wrong, it was scary as hell and incredibly frustrating, but deep down, I was still comforted by the fact that it was with him and not someone else.

    It was like jumping off the edge and straight into the unknown. As I watched the boy I''d known for so many years trip over the edge of the rug in such an endearing way that I couldn''t help but cackle aloud at his actions, I had an epiphany of sorts.

    Nothing made sense right now, but I was quickly realizing that maybe it didn''t matter. I had to learn to live in the now. Living in fear of ''what if'' would do nothing but tear me apart from him. Things were different now, whether I liked it or not. Even if I was the only one that could feel it, at least I still had him in my life. Even if I was indeed going crazy, as long as I had my partner in crime at my side, the chances of making it through were pretty high.

    I couldn''t be blindly pushed into this new world of feelings without being terrified, but I wouldn''t refrain from them either. I had to try to step away from the sidelines where I was cowering in fear, but I wouldn''t force it either.

    I almost lost everything once, and I couldn''t let myself worry so much about the little things. I got a second chance when far too many others didn''t, so I had to try and make this work out somehow.

    I firmly decided that I was going to let this current carry me where it wanted and pray that I didn''t get caught in a whirlpool. Hopefully the storm would pass and we''d be in the clear. If I let myself be led through this new door that opened up to me, and if Henry welcomed me on the other side, then maybe things could start to make some sense.

    It was more daunting than anything else to try and admit to myself, but I knew there would be no moving forward with my life if I didn''t do so. It was akin to being dangled in front of a blazing fire with nothing to hold onto but a piece of thread. If I wasn''t careful enough, I''d slip and succumb to the sweltering heat. If I did nothing at all, I''d slowly roast as the flames lapped at my skin until they engulfed me completely.

    Either way, there''s a possibility of getting burned.

    Yet, even after everything that I''d been through these last couple of months, one thing had remained constant. I''ve never been one to sit back and watch myself be torn apart by anything or anyone, especially not by fear. They say fighting fire with fire is never a good idea, but if it''s taunting me in all its blazing glory, I''m going to play.

    They also say that change is good sometimes. Maybe that''s what I needed right now. After so much chaos, the bad things always seemed to wither away when he was around. Since waking up, Henry had made himself my home, my comfort, and my outlet all in one. He morphed into my own little garden of Eden. He had already been a monumental pillar of support in my life, but it had all heightened now.

    Maybe it was time I start seeing things for what they were instead of what they were before or were supposed to be.

    Maybe Sam really was right, and I''m just extremely bad at seeing what''s right in front of me.

    Best friends, family, or something in between? Maybe it was none of the above.

    Maybe it had always been more than that, and maybe it was time that I embraced it.

 bittersweet

    Henry

    The passing of cars flying by from beside my own seemed to be going all too fast for my brain to keep up with. As if Monday mornings weren''t crappy enough, I''d woken up a bit late and had to rush out the door without so much as even bidding Chandler a goodbye as per usual. In the past, he would''ve let himself out without a word and shoot me a text letting me know he locked the door behind him.

    As I maneuvered my car into the parking garage at work and secured a spot towards the back, the insistent ringing of my phone resonated persistently from within my pocket. Barely a moment passed before my eyes captured the familiar name flashing on the dashboard''s screen, prompting my thumb to glide effortlessly across the illuminated green button, connecting the call without delay.

    "Hello?" I uttered, my voice tinged with concern as I anxiously awaited a response. The timing of the call, right after my arrival at work and being distanced from home, stirred a sense of unease within me.

    "Henry," Chandler''s voice emerged groggily, yet oddly attentive, betraying traces of sleepiness. "Is everything alright? You were gone when I woke up, and I couldn''t help but worry if something had happened or..." Chandler''s concern flowed through their words, punctuated by a lingering uncertainty.

    "I''m fine, Chan," I chuckled softly, recognizing the undertone of anxiety in the deep rumble of his voice on the other end of the line. "I simply overslept and didn''t have a chance to wake you before I had to hurry out." Reassurance laced my words, aiming to ease Chandler''s concerns.

    "O-oh," he stuttered, followed by a mumbled utterance too faint for me to decipher. "Right. That makes sense. Sorry, I wasn''t thinking about the time. I guess I''ve just grown so used to you being the one to wake me up..." His chortle was small, carrying a touch of nervousness followed by a hint of embarrassment. His words stumbling out of his mouth as he attempted to regain composure confused me all the more.

    What the hell?

    "It''s alright." I paused briefly before continuing, my curiosity piqued. "Is everything okay? You seem a bit off..." I observed his thoughtful demeanor, sensing that he was carefully selecting his words before responding.

    "Oh!" I startled at his abrupt reply, causing my heart to skip a beat within my chest. "Yeah, everything''s great. Don''t worry about me; you''re already running late. Focus on getting to work, young man!" His playful tone carried a hint of admonishment, urging me to prioritize my responsibilities.

    "Okay, okay!" I giggled past any embarrassment that was trying to hold back the pure joy Chandler instilled in me, "I just got here. I''ll see you when I get home, yeah?"

    "Yeah," I could detect the playful smile in his voice, and my mind drifted as I envisioned his lips, teasing and adorned with a delightful rosiness. "Have a good day at work, Henry," he expressed, his warm words gently bidding me farewell.

    I hummed and pulled my phone away from my ear as I ended the call, trying not to read too much into the unfamiliar, anxious tone in my best friend''s voice. He never would''ve called like that before, he would''ve just assumed I had to leave early or had something urgent to take care of. He always seemed to be calm and collected at all times, knowing things even without having heard them. His heightened concern caused a selfish flutter within me, yet I found myself unable to pay it much attention. Swiftly, I gathered my belongings, exiting the car with a sense of purpose, driven by Chan''s encouraging words.

    Manuscripts and articles wouldn''t miraculously edit themselves, leaving me to work more diligently than I had for a while. It was a busy day, and my mind felt as if it was going one hundred miles a minute. By the time lunch rolled around, I barely gave myself enough time to eat and instead spent most of the break at my desk sifting through and organizing various documents I had yet to finish editing. Luckily, the remaining hours went by in a flash as I kept to myself and practically only lifted my head to get up and use the restroom or to stretch for a moment before resuming my work.

    As I busied myself with packing up my belongings and discreetly slipping a few unedited documents into my bag, I suddenly felt a gentle tap on my shoulder that broke my concentration.

    "Hey, Ry!" I pivoted to find Molly standing there, her radiant smile illuminating her face and her eyes brimming with a joy that seemed to be the envy of many. Molly, a friend from college who coincidentally ended up working at the same company after graduation, had always been known for her kindness, compassion, and affectionate nature towards others. She was also conventionally gorgeous, which only heightened her popularity in school and spurred my confusion as to why she had befriended someone like me.

    Her outgoing personality was the opposite of mine, but her understanding and empathetic nature allowed me to feel like I could trust her early on in our friendship. Meeting new people was never my strong suit, but having at least one familiar face in the workplace fresh out of college was a comfort she gladly provided. Other than Chan, she was one of my closest friends.

    She also knew the truth.

    Aware of the depth of my feelings for Chandler, extending far beyond mere friendship, Molly had been a pillar of support, lending a compassionate ear whenever the weight of it all became overwhelming. Her unwavering presence and understanding went beyond what words could express��I was profoundly grateful for her unwavering support.

    In a world where I imprisoned my feelings within a dark cage, sealed tightly with padlocks lacking any key, she offered a steadfast shoulder to lean on. At times, she even spoke the harsh truths I needed to hear, jolting me awake and compelling me to confront reality head-on.

    "Hey!" I returned her smile, my focus shifting back to tidying up my workspace in preparation for the day''s end. "What''s going on?" I inquired, eager to engage in a brief conversation before wrapping up and heading home.

    "I''m heading out, but I couldn''t find you at lunch and I wanted to talk to you about something really quick." Her feathery voice was innocent and sweet- more so than usual.

    Uh oh. This could only mean one thing- she was up to something.

    Pausing my movements, I regarded her with a hint of suspicion, my gaze fixed on the small smirk emerging on her lips that were accentuated by a subtle touch of red. An uneasiness settled within me as I sensed that she was about to broach a topic that would likely stir some form of distress within me.

    "Ah, sorry. I was catching up on some work during lunch. The last thing I need right now is to fall behind, again." I explained, "What is it that you wanted to talk about? Not to rush you or anything, but I have to get going in a few because-"

    "Yeah, yeah. I know," she huffed, rolling her black-lined eyes and placing a perfectly manicured hand on her hip, "Chandler''s at home waiting for his precious wife to come take care of him."

    "It''s not like that..." I mumbled, feeling a warm blush creep up my cheeks as I swiftly became flustered. The mere mention of her addressing me as Chan''s wife sent a surge of emotions through me, catching me off guard.

    The thing is, it was like that- and we both knew it.

    "Whatever." She dismissed, flipping her long chocolate hair behind her shoulder as she walked around my desk to sit on the side of it so I was forced to look at her during our exchange. "I know if I text you about this, you won''t respond and you''ll have time to come up with some bullshit excuse to get out of it before I see you tomorrow. Therefore, I need to talk to you about this now. Also, it''ll only take a moment so don''t get your panties in a twist."

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Alright," I gave in, "what is it?" I sighed, knowing she was spot on in the fact that I would just delay the inevitable and ignore her messages, pretending I never saw them if they involved something I didn''t want to think about at the time. She learned from the past that I was horrible at coming up with excuses on the spot and couldn''t lie to her even if my life depended on it.

    In my defense, I think it had more to do with the fact that she was just extremely good at reading people and less to do with the possibility that I was a terrible liar.

    "Well," Molly twisted a piece of shiny hair between two of her pampered fingers as she smiled up at me with a child-like hope, "We both know it''s been far too long since you''ve gotten laid. You''re going to turn to dust any day now, and what kind of pal would I be to let that happen?"

    "Molly!" I gasped, glancing around us frantically in hopes that the last dozen or so stragglers remaining in the office hadn''t heard her indelicate words.

    "Alright, alright! I''m sorry," she cackled to herself. I placed a hand on my forehead and groaned, wishing the conversation would end so I could just go home and see the only person who could truly make even the most stressful day a great one. "I''m only joking! Seriously though, hear me out, at least?"

    Lowering my hand from my face, a twinge of guilt surged within my chest as I witnessed her teasing expression dissipate, replaced by a more solemn countenance. Understanding that her intentions were genuine and well-meaning, I nodded in silent encouragement, signaling for her to proceed with her speech.

    "So," she started, "There''s this new guy in the Human Resources department. Pauly introduced him to us at lunch on Friday but you weren''t around. Funnily enough, you weren''t around to meet him today, either."

    I raised a brow at her, already knowing where this was going but wishing on all the stars in the sky that I''d be pleasantly surprised and this wouldn''t turn into one of her match-making fantasies, "Okay...and?"

    "He''s really sweet! His name is Jack Parker. He''s totally your type, too! He''s tall, has perfect manners, a nice deep voice, and strong features that are to die for." She threw caution to the wind and blurted words at me as though she''d been dying to spill the news to me for weeks, "On top of all that, Pauly told me that just so happens to be very single and very homosexual."

    "Molly...thank you for trying, but I know where this is going-" I made an attempt to gently let her down, knowing from past experience that Molly was not one to easily give up. However, it seemed that, as usual, she wasn''t quite prepared to relinquish her pursuit just yet.

    "The getting laid part was just a joke, Henry! He''s really sweet, and if you got to know him I think you''d really like him. You haven''t been on a date in ages and you deserve to have someone take care of you for a change. I know I don''t have all the details on him, but I really think he could be that person for you."

    Her words caused a stirring whirlpool in my gut. While my initial instinct was to resist and declare that she was mistaken, that I didn''t need anyone to take care of me, a part of me, buried deep within, resonated with a sorrowful ache. It yearned for a kind of attention that surpassed fleeting touches and friendly affection, craving a deeper connection. It longed for more, but from someone entirely off-limits��someone I could never pursue for a million reasons.

    "What''s the point?" I let out an exasperated sigh. "You know how these things always turn out for me." Pessimism seeped into my words, as I recounted my experiences of going on occasional dates, maybe even securing a second one if things went well. However, deep down, my heart remained guarded, incapable of fully surrendering itself to anyone.

    It beat for the one person who remained unattainable, and despite my earnest efforts, I struggled to break free from the chains that tightly bound my heart and soul to him.

    "Henry Sallow, answer me this. How long are you going to keep waiting around for something that probably won''t happen? You know I love you to the moon and back, but I can''t sit around and watch you waste away while he''s out there living his life without even looking back to make sure you''re still there. He goes, you follow. He''s got you on a damn leash, and it''s time to break free from the collar and start living your own life- not in his shadow."

    "Chandler cares," I found myself defending him, unable to ignore the truth. "I don''t expect him to center his life around me. I''m the fool for allowing myself to fall in love with my best friend. He hasn''t done anything wrong." With every word that escaped my lips, Molly''s perspective rang truer, and I couldn''t deny the validity of her observations.

    She didn''t know Chan like I did, but they''d met a few times at gatherings over the last couple of years or when we''d hung out as a larger group with some college friends. She didn''t necessarily have a problem with him, but she felt as though he took me for granted. To her, he treated me like a little brother- like family instead of something meant to be cherished.

    A significant part of me recognized that Molly''s perspective was skewed because she hadn''t witnessed our interactions when we were alone or in more intimate settings. In larger crowds, Chandler was often at the center, surrounded by the many people who adored him, naturally. His presence was intoxicating, but the attention made me cower. Often times, I found myself retreating to a corner, concealed from the spotlight. Even in those moments, he never failed to check on me, offering comforting glances, reassuring words, and a sense of solace. However, when we found ourselves in cozier environments or when it was just the two of us, he shed any inhibitions and allowed his affectionate and supportive self to shine through tenfold.

    Usually, he was always touching me somewhere. Whether it was an arm strewn over my shoulder, a hand tucked into my hair messily, or just the heat of our legs touching as we sat next to one another, he was always there in some way.

    While she had witnessed moments of affection between Chandler and me, it did little to extinguish the flame of anger that surged within her towards him. She couldn''t fathom how he hadn''t noticed my feelings throughout the years of our friendship. In her eyes, he was either incredibly oblivious or intentionally in denial. I often brushed off her snarky remarks, but as time passed, it became increasingly evident to me just how deeply I had been affected by this tall man in recent times.

    My mind flashed to how he''d been acting a little strange recently as well. A nervous tingle spread low in my tummy as I wondered for a moment if maybe, just maybe he was starting to suspect something.

    Was I too obvious? Was I becoming worse at hiding my feelings? Does he know?

    I was ripped from my thoughts as Molly''s painted lips fell into a frown and parted to let out a solemn sigh, "Ry, you know I''m doing this because I care. I know you feel like there''s no one out there better for you than Chandler. Hell, maybe that''s true. What I''m saying is that you might not be able to find out. At the end of the day, you deserve better than this. Don''t waste your time wishing on a star that''s too dim. Just try this out, yeah? If it doesn''t work out, then it''s no big deal. It''s just a date, but I really do think you guys will get along great."

    I let her words sink in, my tense body relaxing slightly as she laid a familiarly reassuring hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. I knew she was right, and that''s what sucked the most.

    The chances of Chandler ever feeling something for me were slim to none, and the reality of the situation was that I was in fact waiting for something-anything, to happen. Despite my reluctance to admit it, my assertions of contentment with being alone and not needing anything else in my life at the time were nothing but a fa?ade��a lie I told myself. Deep down, I so desperately needed more. I needed a connection that transcended friendship and ventured into the realm of romantic intimacy. I was tired of feeling that I was simply appreciated, I needed to feel wanted. I needed to feel desired for in the way that I felt for him the past several years.

    The journey I traversed along this winding road of indescribable pain had its limits. It felt as if I were walking through a field of roses, where the thorns unfailingly tore at my skin, leaving trails of blood in their wake. Yet, amidst the pain, the roses displayed a breathtaking beauty��a beauty so genuine and profound that the agony seemed worthwhile in the end.

    "What makes you think this time will be any different?" My voice was small and vulnerable as I looked up to meet her eyes with my own. In that moment, I''d shrunken into a scared child afraid to sleep on their own for the first time. A sense of pitiful shame, helplessness, and embarrassment washed over me as I realized the depth to which I had allowed myself to tumble down this intricate rabbit hole of emotions. Climbing a web of lies for so many years, I''d finally begun to get tangled.

    It was nothing new. I should have been used to feeling this way after years of being a supportive best friend and nothing more. I should have been angry at myself for loving him the way I did, and I should have been numb from feeling the same pain for so long, so why did trying to distance myself from him hurt so badly?

    "I can''t make any promises," Molly''s warm voice did its best to soothe my aching heart, but it merely provided a temporary fix instead of mending it together with the stitches required, "but you''ve got nothing to lose. So, you know what I say? It''s worth one hell of a shot."

    I didn''t want to keep pushing myself away from the chance that I might be able to find happiness if I tried hard enough. It was daunting to open up and let someone in, especially when the person I truly desired was waiting for me back at my apartment, awaiting my return.

    Chandler embodied warmth in its purest form. He emanated strength, love, and compassion, seamlessly intertwined. He''d always been such a unique individual, and even his imperfections have etched themselves deep into the recesses of my heart. Yet, I had been so used to doing nothing but holding onto a dream so far away I couldn''t even begin to imagine grasping it. The way he''d acted as of late had to mean nothing. He needed comfort after the accident- it was his way of coping. I''d be there for him no matter what, but the probability that I was being too wishful in the fact that I thought I was seeing some new, unexplainable progress between us was outweighed by simple logic.

    To Chandler, I was a constant in his life- a best friend, brother, and someone he could always rely on. After all these years, maybe it was time that I finally try and let go a bit more, for real this time.

    No going back and getting tied up again.

    If not, I''d be stuck in a vicious cycle of bittersweet hope that leads to inevitable disappointment. Perhaps it was time I take a bite of the forbidden fruit that''d been dangling in front of my face for what felt like an eternity, reasoning that it was the easy way out.

    ''Let go of him and let yourself latch onto something new, exciting, and fresh. Let yourself be loved.'' It recited, over and over again.

    A sudden chime from my phone made me jump slightly as I was yanked from the suffocating silence of my thoughts. I pulled it out of my pocket and allowed my eyes to skim over the message before I looked away after a moment and shoved it back into its rightful place in my jeans without responding to the text. The name flashed behind my lids again and again as guilt started to rush over me. I took a deep breath and relaxed into Molly''s embrace, relishing in the way that her hand smoothed over my back gently to calm the storm brewing in my mind.

    What lay before me felt like a na?ve and foolish endeavor. None of the stars felt aligned, and my heart grew heavy in my chest. Yet, it was worth a shot. right? The thought shot a bittersweet pang that began under my collarbones and throbbed deep in my core. Although I didn''t have much hope, maybe this time things could be different.

    If I could find a way to release my grip on him, creating a small opening within my heart for someone else, perhaps then I could begin the process of moving on. Maybe I could truly embrace being nothing more than a best friend to Chandler, allowing our bond to flourish without any other conflicting emotions clouding the path.

    In the eye of the storm churning within me was a hope for change. I was losing the strength to hide my feelings for much longer, and if this was the only outlet to let myself feel loved in the way I craved so badly inside, I would have to give it a shot.

    I swallowed the lump that seemed to root itself in my throat and looked down at the cautious looking girl awaiting an answer. Summoning my courage, I drew in a deep breath and mustered the strength to take a step forward, hoping against hope that this chosen path wouldn''t inflict even greater pain upon my already wounded soul.

    "I''ll do it."

 too late

    Chandler

    "Your MRI results have returned with excellent news, and the consistent effort you''ve put into your weekly physical therapy sessions is clearly paying off. Given your remarkable progress in recent weeks, I believe it''s now safe for you to transition to performing light exercises at home instead of visiting our office directly." Dr. Perez''s face lit up with satisfaction as he spoke to me from across the room. His glasses sat perfectly on his nose, and his pristine white coat mirrored the one he wore during our previous check-up a couple of weeks ago.

    "That''s fantastic!" My mother exclaimed with a beaming smile, seated to my left and gripping my hand tightly in excitement. "What does this mean for Chandler moving forward? Should he still refrain from engaging in work and other activities?" Her words flowed incessantly, as if I were a child unable to voice my thoughts, prompting me to affectionately roll my eyes.

    Despite my suggestion that Henry could conveniently drop me off at the hospital before work and arrange for a ride back home afterward, my mother insisted on accompanying me to the appointment. I couldn''t help but feel guilty about denying her the comfort and reassurance she evidently sought from being present during the appointment.

    Dr. Perez cleared his throat and adjusted his thick, black-rimmed glasses before delivering his prognosis. "Considering Mr. Lee''s remarkable recovery, I would recommend he gradually return to work in approximately three to four weeks. However, it would be advisable to start with shorter shifts initially, minimizing exposure to excessive stress. Given the absence of any concerning symptoms or adverse effects thus far, resuming driving activities in a few weeks seems feasible, provided there is no deterioration in his condition."

    "I''m glad to hear that," I replied with a polite smile, attempting to push aside the growing unease in my chest. Despite the positive news I had just received, an inexplicable sense of dread weighed heavily on me, causing my stomach to churn with somethin akin to dread.

    I knew what this meant, even though I was trying to deny it.

    As my mother gushed over the news, squeezing my knee with her frail hand, a mix of conflicting emotions choked me. On one hand, I understood her joy and relief at the prospect of me regaining my independence and returning to a more normal life. Her laughter, intertwined with Dr. Perez''s, filled the room, creating an atmosphere of shared happiness. However, beneath the surface, the sense of sorrow continued to gnaw at me, making it difficult to fully embrace the moment. Despite their joy, I couldn''t shake the lingering fear that lay dormant within me.

    I tried to laugh along with them, but my stomach was twisting wildly inside. It was beginning to feel like too much at once, and all I wanted was to get back to Henry''s apartment and curl up on the couch until he got home.

    Pathetic? Maybe.

    Did I care? Surprisingly, no.

    With each passing day, it seemed like my once steadfast pride was slipping away, gradually fading into the background. I found myself reduced to a vulnerable state, like a whimpering puppy longing for attention, eagerly awaiting the arrival of his petite owner whom held the key to its fleeting sense of self-worth. It was a humbling experience, one that left me feeling small and insignificant, unable to muster the strength to reclaim my former confidence.

    After the jovial atmosphere settled, the tall, middle-aged man gracefully rose from his seat, adjusting his immaculate coat with precision. He approached me, his voice carrying a sense of reassurance and guidance. "I believe it''s time for you to gradually reintroduce regular routines into your daily life. Engage in social activities and savor the joy of being among others. However, remember to prioritize your well-being and take things at a comfortable pace. If any unexpected symptoms arise, don''t hesitate to seek immediate medical attention. We will continue monitoring your progress with check-ups every two months throughout the year to ensure a smooth recovery."

    "Of course. Thank you, Dr. Perez." I shook his hand firmly and stood from my seat as my mother did the same.

    "Don''t forget to continue your physical therapy exercises at home at least a few times a week," he gently reminded me as we made our way toward the room''s exit. "Consistently building your strength will only aid in your recovery process. I wish you the very best and a fantastic remainder of the day."

    "Yes, sir," I nodded respectfully, a grateful smile on my face as he excused himself. "Thank you, take care."

    As we made our way to the parking lot, my mother''s voice became distant, mere murmurs that blended into the background. My mind was overwhelmed with a whirlwind of thoughts, making it difficult to process them all at once.

    I should have been overflowing with happiness. It was a moment I had been eagerly waiting for��to reclaim my life and regain my independence. The need for constant supervision and assistance would soon be a thing of the past. I could gradually reintroduce my old routine and before I knew it, I would be driving, working, and living on my own once again. The possibilities were endless, yet this lingering unease tugged at my heart, casting a shadow on my elation.

    Everything could go back to normal.

    Except, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise, I couldn''t escape the nagging feeling that "normal" was a distant memory. The accident had altered the course of my life, leaving an indelible mark on my existence. The truth was, there was no returning to the way things were before. Everything had shifted, and I had changed along with it. The notion of resuming my old routine felt like an illusion, as if I were grasping at fragments of a past that no longer fit into the present reality. I had to come to terms with the fact that moving forward meant embracing a new version of normalcy, one that would require adaptation and acceptance.

    On another note, I found myself increasingly captivated by the dynamics unfolding between Henry and me, at least within the confines of my own thoughts. It became apparent that whatever was transpiring between us couldn''t be easily dismissed or resolved overnight.

    These unfamiliar emotions clung to me tenaciously, refusing to fade away. I was aware, perhaps more than I''d liked to admit, that they carried a weight and significance that surpassed mere friendship. Initially, I tried to downplay and dismiss them, attributing their existence to a temporary confusion��a muddled intertwining of seeking solace from my closest companion with something deeper. However, as time went on, it became evident that these feelings were evolving into something resembling a tangled mass of knots.

    The situation was far from simple. The web of emotions had woven itself intricately, defying simple categorization or explanation. As much as I wished I could ignore or simplify these complexities, they demanded my attention, urging me to confront the truth that something profound had begun to develop between us, demanding my attention

    The uncertainty of how to navigate this newfound emotional burden weighed heavily on my shoulders, filling me with an unsettling amount of fear. It had become an intricate balancing act, trying to move forward in the face of this enigma that now occupied my thoughts and heart.

    The fear stemmed from the realization that I couldn''t simply go back to the way things were. The path ahead was uncharted, and I felt a profound sense of vulnerability as I grappled with the complexities of these evolving emotions. How could I maintain my equilibrium while carrying this unspoken connection with Henry, unsure of its implications and consequences?

    The fear wasn''t rooted in a desire to reject or escape these feelings, but rather in the unknown territory they represented. It was the uncertainty of what lay ahead, the potential for joy or heartache, and the courage it would take to confront and embrace the truth of my emotions. Moving forward meant acknowledging and navigating this raw emotional landscape, and that, above all, was what frightened me the most.

    "Chandler?" My mother''s voice jolted me back to reality, causing me to startle slightly. Having been preoccupied with my thoughts, I hadn''t even noticed that we''d reached her car. Unsurprisingly, she noticed my distracted state and asked with concern, "Is something troubling you?"

    "Everything''s fine," I reassured her, forcing a small smile to mask the whirlwind of emotions inside me. "It''s just a lot to process all at once, you know? I know we got great news but all these changes... it''s just a bit overwhelming."

    "I''m sure it is, darling," she sympathized, her voice filled with warmth as we settled into the vehicle. "You''ve gone though so much, but you have to remind yourself that these obstacles only strengthen us in the end. If you ever forget that, you have your friends and family to help you remember again." As much as my mother let our conversations trample into emotional territory often, she could tell that I wasn''t exactly in the headspace to get too deep into it. Lightening the mood in the way she did best, she suggested, "How about we treat ourselves to some brunch, just you and me? We could use some quality mommy-and-son time, don''t you think?"

    I genuinely laughed for the first time that day, glancing over at my mother''s slightly aged face. Her usually bright eyes and impeccably sculpted cheeks now carried a touch of wrinkles, evidence of the stress she had endured during the accident and my recovery. My heart sank, realizing that I bore a part of the responsibility for the toll it had taken on her. She appeared older and more drained than I had ever seen her before.

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    However, one thing remained constant, and that was her infectious smile. Her straight teeth shimmered at me, lips curling into a mischievous little smirk that I had inherited. I returned her smile easily and reached out, gently grasping her hand that rested on the steering wheel before giving it a tender squeeze.

    "That sounds great, Mom." She let out an exuberant little cheer and started the car, smoothly maneuvering out of the parking spot and heading towards the exit of the lot with the enthusiasm of a delighted child promised a sweet treat.

    Despite the mess of thoughts surrounding Henry and the apprehension of moving forward, I made a conscious effort to set them aside for the time being. Being with my mother for only a couple of hours made me realize just how much I missed her. Typically only seeing her on weekends when she and my father didn''t have any work, I was forced to accept the fact that, no matter how much I tried to appear tough on the outside, I was still a boy deep down who needed motherly comfort every now and then. I needed to know that I was going to be okay in the way that only a parental figure can do without having to be asked. For the first time in a while, I acknowledged that I deserved to relax and take things one stride at a time. For the remainder of the morning, I relished the opportunity to immerse myself in quality time with my mother, free from the burdens that plagued my mind. It was a chance to simply be present and enjoy the company of the person who had always been there for me, offering comfort and support in both good times and bad. Perhaps I could provide some comfort for her as well.

    <hr>

    Thursday night came quicker than I''d liked. Each day since my appointment with Dr. Perez seemed to whizz by quicker, the usual slow and dragging hours waiting for Henry to get home from work fleeting by in what felt like only a couple of hours.

    Every morning ticked another day off the calendar, leaving a bad taste in my mouth as I was constantly reminded by the fact that I no longer had an excuse to stick around like a poor little victim for an unknown amount of time.

    I chose to withhold the full extent of the news from Henry during dinner that evening. When he asked about my appointment, I provided him with a vague summary, mentioning my progress in recovery and the continuation of physical therapy at home. However, I deliberately omitted the details that I could potentially return to work in a few weeks and regain my independence by moving back to my own apartment. It wasn''t that I didn''t trust Henry or value his opinion; rather, I needed time to process the weight of these decisions on my own before sharing them with him because we both knew what the next step would be.

    It was horribly selfish, but I wasn''t ready to leave this all behind just yet. Henry, perceptive as always, sensed my reluctance to delve deeper into the topic. He respected my boundaries and chose not to press me for more details, instead letting the conversation come to a natural close. With a sigh of relief, he flashed me a warm, understanding smile that illuminated his features in the soft glow of the dining room. I appreciated his ability to read me so well, sometimes even better than I could read myself. It was one of the many reasons why he had become such an integral part of my life.

    As the credits of another episode of our favorite childhood cartoon, ''Adventure Time'', rolled on the screen, I let out a contented yawn and stretched my arms above my head, feeling a satisfying ''pop'' in my back. The fatigue from the day''s events was catching up to me, and the comforting presence of Henry by my side only added to my sense of relaxation.

    Eyes shifting to the left, I noticed Henry concentrated on something he''d been reading on his phone. All evening, his attention had been focused elsewhere, head in the clouds. Curiosity piqued, I shifted closer to the shorter man, trying to catch a glimpse of what had been capturing his gaze. His brows furrowed slightly as he began to type, fingers dancing across the screen with an intensity that shocked me. I couldn''t help but wonder what could be so captivating that it drew him away from our usual shared moments of laughter and nostalgia.

    Was he bored of me?

    On several occasions, I couldn''t help but notice Henry''s gentle smile as he became engrossed in whatever was gravitating him to the device.

    I didn''t think much of it at first. I did find it strange how he seemed to be so distracted by it, though. Henry wasn''t much of a tech-type person. He used his phone to text or call you if he needed to, but he wasn''t one for using social media much or playing games. Especially when with company, he seldom used his phone. He valued the time he spent with others, which is something I always admired about him.

    Still, though, I didn''t really consider this sudden change over the last couple of days to be anything more than maybe speaking to a friend or colleague about something of relative importance.

    I sighed a bit dramatically, throwing my left leg onto his lap. He didn''t respond to my action, fingers still typing away deftly as his eyes remained on the screen of his phone.

    I grunted, heaving my other leg up as well, expecting some sort of reaction- only to receive nothing. Instead, his pink lips parted slightly to reveal a precious, tiny smile as his honey eyes danced across the screen at something he read.

    My brows furrowed in confusion. Who the hell was he so interested in talking to that he didn''t even notice my insistent movements?

    I sat upright, leaning my upper body toward his swiftly and narrowing my eyes as I studied him silently for a moment. Still lost in his own little world, I lurched forward and tickled his sides where he was most sensitive, knowing I would surely get a reaction out of him this way.

    He startled, letting out a surprised yelp as he doubled over and attempted to free himself from my playful grip, his face contorting with laughter as his infectious mirth filled the room.

    "Chandler!" He squealed, "S-stop it!" I gave in after a few seconds, pulling my hands away reluctantly and allowed a gentle smile to spread on my face as I watched his small form dive for his phone that he''d accidentally thrown across the couch when I''d sneak-attacked him a few moments prior.

    He unlocked it, eyes widening comically before he looked over at me and smacked my chest lightly, "You made me accidentally send a text!" I chuckled heartily as he shot me a not-so-scary glare and groaned as he typed away on his phone once again, assumingly apologizing for whatever message I''d caused him to send in his moment of surprise.

    However, he still had a ghost of a smile on his lips as his fingers ghosted across the glass of the device, clearly forgiving me despite my actions.

    "Who the hell are you texting so much?" I leaned forward to try and glimpse at his screen, "Your new boyfriend?" I teased him, the words coming out slightly sour on my tongue but sounding familiar and much like all the other times I''d teased him in the past.

    Abruptly, his smile faded, and the atmosphere in the room shifted, transitioning from lighthearted and cozy to an unsettling chill, as if a frosty breeze had swept through.

    I quirked my brow at him, trying to read the strange look on his face that seemed to be draining of color with every second. However, a masochistic curiosity inside me pushed. Something in my gut told me to let it go- that nothing good would come from what was surely about to unfold after what I said next.

    I should''ve listened to my gut.

    "What," I tried to nonchalantly tease, crossing a line that I surely wasn''t ready to be on the other side of, "Got a hot date or something, Henry boy?"

    He stood up, coughing slightly into his fist as he spluttered at my words. He avoided my eyes at all costs, leaning over to busy himself with plucking the dirty dishes from the coffee table before standing upright and turning to retreat to the kitchen.

    Perplexed, I furrowed my brows, my confusion growing. This was not his usual response to my jokes. Normally, he would brush them off with a playful eye-roll or a light slap on my shoulder, followed by a dismissive comment like, "Oh, shut the hell up." Something was definitely amiss.

    However, halfway to the entrance of the kitchen, he abruptly halted and turned around, his eyes locking with mine. In that fleeting moment, I could discern a mass of emotions swirling within his gaze, too complex for me to decipher all at once. There was a hint of vulnerability, a touch of hesitation, and something else that I couldn''t quite place- perhaps sadness. It left me yearning to unravel the enigma behind their deep honey color.

    I didn''t even have time to gather my thoughts and formulate a coherent sentence to inquire what what wrong before Henry''s facial expression alone virtually smacked me from cheek-to-cheek. He blinked, and in that simple action, his face transformed into an unnerving mask of stoicism. The warmth and playfulness that had characterized our evening suddenly vanished, replaced by an impenetrable fa?ade that sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if a door had slammed shut, blocking me from the emotions that had flickered in his eyes just moments before.

    His lips parted, and a knot formed in the pit of my stomach, a sense of apprehension creeping over me. Deep down, I found myself hoping that he would choose silence over words, that he would turn around and simply continue with our routine, allowing me to follow him into the kitchen and offer my assistance in cleaning up. I longed for the familiarity of our domestic tasks, the comfort they provided, and the way they had defined our interactions in the past few weeks. But as the seconds ticked by, it became clear that the words were inevitable, and the air between us grew heavy with anticipation.

    I wasn''t prepared for my heart to fall the way it did when he finally spoke after the moment that seemed to last an infinity. Even if I held it steady in my hand, right through my chest, his words cracked it piece by piece until it shattered into about one hundred smithereens , leaving them nothing but rough shards defeatedly slipping through hopeless fingers.

    "Yeah, actually." Henry''s voice was eerily empty in the chilly room that was now an empty void of uncertainty, "I do."

    As he hurriedly turned away and disappeared into the kitchen at last, a sinking feeling settled within me, realizing that I had missed the fleeting opportunity to unravel the tangled emotions and understand the mysterious depths of my own heart. In that moment, all the optimism I had harbored for the potential of embarking on something new with him seemed to crumble away, leaving behind a desolate sense of disillusionment.

    I blinked, closing my slightly gaping mouth and slouching where I sat alone on the couch that suddenly seemed far too big for just one person.

    Deep within the recesses of my being, a mocking voice erupted in laughter. It was the voice that berated me mercilessly, reminding me of my foolishness for entertaining the notion that this could be a transformative moment, an opportunity to forge a different path. It sneered, emphasizing how na?ve I had been to believe in the possibility of a fresh beginning, taunting me with its biting cynicism.

    It repeated the same taunting refrain, echoing relentlessly in the confines of my mind as I lay in bed that night shortly after Henry had sauntered back into the living room after cleaning up. He had a strangely artificial smile plastered on his face as he bid me a good night, claiming that he was tired and was going to get some rest. His expression was so foreign that it made me feel as though I''d be more at ease if he had ignored me altogether. The uneasy encounter lingered in my mind for hours, leaving a bitter aftertaste in the air. As I meticulously replayed the evening''s events, I couldn''t escape the disheartening truth that every corner of the room was tinged with an unspoken tension, his attitude devoid of the usual warmth and familiarity. The weight of uncertainty settled heavily upon me, intertwining with the haunting laughter that echoed in the depths of my consciousness.

    A surge of self-awareness washed over me, and with it came a wave of embarrassment and remorse. I berated myself for the foolishness of my expectations, realizing that I had kept Henry in the dark about the turmoil brewing within me. The weight of my distress felt like an anchor dragging me down, while he remained blissfully unaware, unintentionally becoming the unwitting source of my torment. I couldn''t blame him; I hadn''t shared the depths of my inner struggles. In my self-reflection, I saw the selfishness of my actions and the unfairness of my silent accusations. It was a humbling moment, where I recognized that I alone bore the responsibility for my own turmoil.

    This whole time, I''d been painting myself to be a helpless victim, and him to be the oblivious perpetrator. However, I had learned in that moment that I was the one holding the knife to my own throat by suffering in silence.

    In the wake of my realization, a pang of regret sunk into the deep waters belonging to a suffocating sense of loss. I had taken for granted the presence of his kind soul and the beauty of his gentle demeanor. He had always been there, a constant presence in my life, and I had foolishly assumed that he would remain by my side indefinitely, patiently waiting for me to gather the courage to confront my feelings. But time was slipping away, and I had allowed the comfort of his unwavering friendship to lull me into a false sense of security. Now, it was clear that Calypso''s tides had turned against me, forcing me to acknowledge the opportunity missed and a chance that may never come again.

    The truth was undeniable, and it cut through me like a sharp blade. The image of the daring and confident Chandler Lee that everyone thought they knew was shattered, revealing the raw reality of his own cowardice. He had allowed fear and uncertainty to hold him hostage, clinging to the safety of familiarity instead of taking a leap of faith. He had become a shadow of the person he once was, hiding in the face of vulnerability and tip-toeing behind a fa?ade of false strength.

    He waited too long- and now he was too late.

 what could go wrong?

    Henry

    "He was going to find out eventually, Ry. Why are you making such a fuss?" Molly''s voice wafted into my ears, light and ethereal, but it took a moment for my mind to fully grasp her words. Lately, I had been feeling out of sorts, my head filled with fog and my thoughts tangled in a maddening web. Yet, today seemed to be the pinnacle of it all, amplifying my unease to an unbearable level.

    With each passing day, time seemed to accelerate, fueling a frenzy of nervous anticipation in the pit of my stomach. The days blurred together, amplifying the butterflies that performed a nervous and dreadful dance within me. I attempted to push the thoughts aside, to not dwell on the looming "hot date" that awaited me in a matter of hours. However, it was futile. I was a wreck, far beyond what words could capture.

    "You should''ve seen his face." I stabbed at a lonely piece of lettuce on my plate, feeling all too similar to the undesired leaf left for last pick. I too wished to lay there and await my inevitable fate without any interruptions, "I''ve never seen him like that before. It''s obvious that something''s bothering him, but I don''t want to push if he isn''t comfortable sharing."

    Recollections of that exceedingly awkward and discomforting night from earlier in the week meandered through my mind like a goldfish confined in a bowl far too petite for its stature. Said evening had unfolded fairly well until my ill-fated decision to speak out, singlehandedly tainting the pleasant atmosphere and setting it on fire. Perhaps I should have adhered to my usual pattern of brushing off his little jokes, allowing it to dissolve into oblivion as I did with my feelings for him.

    Perhaps I should''ve just said I was going to hang out with a friend. Had I opted for that approach, maybe I could have spared myself the haunting image of his countenance, brimming with a tumultuous m��lange of unfamiliar emotions radiating from his almond-shaped eyes piercing into the depths of my own.

    The perplexity of his reaction to my words remained an enigma. I hadn''t lashed out or uttered anything irrational that would''ve caught him off guard. I had simply provided an honest response to his query. However, the expression etched on his face exceeded mere astonishment, which was what I had initially anticipated. Sure, I rarely went on dates but even when I did, he had never responded in that manner. It was as if a profound revelation had crashed upon him, reducing something within him to fragments that lay scattered at his feet. Observing his demeanor as he retired to bed later that night, it was evident that something was amiss. The customary air of confidence and self-assuredness that so often marked his steps had vanished, replaced by feeble and faltering movements. He didn''t appear angry or irritated with me, but rather caught in the clutches of his own thoughts.

    "You''re thinking too much." Molly''s dismissive remark reverberated across the table, "Quit using that big brain of yours and start acting with your heart. You finally have a hot date tonight, and you''re not about to let these irrational thoughts about Prince Charming ruin it for you. What you''re going to do is live a little and do something for yourself for once. This isn''t about anyone else but you, so stop letting him twist his way into this."

    "I know, sorry..." My head drooped in dejection, and a blush of shame tinged my cheeks. It was beyond my control. I didn''t desire to dedicate every waking moment to fretting over something that likely held no significance. I acknowledged that I was likely indulging in overthinking, and any perceived change in Chan that night was probably unrelated to my revelation about having a date. Why would he care now? He never had before. Who knows, maybe he''d been in a bit of a mood before I got home but was hiding it.

    As much as that thought was supposed to make me feel better, thinking that Chandler would choose to keep something from me cut even deeper.

    Even though I had been subconsciously pushing back, Molly''s words began to penetrate my thoughts further. They began to stain my mind, stubbornly refusing to leave. I knew that I couldn''t allow someone to impede my progress or hinder the potential for a fresh opportunity and the pursuit of genuine love and happiness. No matter how much it hurt at the moment, I had to at least try.

    Anticipating an unassuming evening ahead, my expectations were modest. Nevertheless, it offered a preferable alternative to lounging at home in my cozy pajamas, silently observing the man I deeply cared for, unaware of my fervent longing to be closer, to embrace him with a tenderness that surpassed the boundaries of mere friendship, and to immerse myself in his presence indefinitely.

    <hr>

    Following a much-needed lunch with Molly at a recently established caf�� close to our publishing office, the workday seemed to progress swiftly. I made a conscious effort to steer clear of my friend circle during breaks, deliberately avoiding any interaction with them. I was well aware that Jack would be among the group, and I had been actively evading his presence like the onset of a contagious ailment.

    It seemed silly that I was avoiding the person I was meant to be going on a date with, but something about hanging out with him in person with all of my nosy friends around was extremely unappealing. It had nothing to do with him, but rather the fact that I couldn''t handle the embarrassing looks from Molly and Pauly as they side-eyed each other knowingly. No thank you.

    On a few occasions, Jack had managed to discreetly visit my cubicle after work or during his breaks to exchange greetings and engage in brief conversations. He was much more confident than I and didn''t mind the attention from the rest of the group. Yet, he respected how I felt and obliged my desires accordingly which I appreciated greatly. I felt guilty and worried that he felt as though I was embarrassed of him which was absolutely not the case at all. When I''d manage to muster up just a bit more power to talk to him at work, things always seemed to get a bit more dramatic.

    Especially since Molly opened her big mouth and blabbered to the entire office that she''d set us up. People I didn''t even know well had been giving me sly looks all week, and I absolutely hated it. As much as I valued our friendship and her golden heart, the vivacious woman just couldn''t hold her tongue. I wouldn''t take the frustration out on her, though. I knew she was just excited for me and truly wished for the best, even if her attitude came off as borderline obnoxious and at times verbally abusive when talking about my love life- or lack thereof.

    After anxiously pacing back and forth in my bedroom for what felt like an eternity, Chandler''s voice echoed from the living room, informing me that he intended to head out and get some groceries for the coming week. Fortunately, his recent recovery and ability to drive short distances again- a development he had shared with me only a couple of days earlier, granted him a newfound sense of freedom and alleviated some of the turmoil he was facing. Previously, he had carried a sense of guilt, perceiving himself as a mere freeloader and an occupant taking up space in my apartment without contributing. Despite my repeated reassurances, it was only now that he began to find solace in the notion that he could assist me by running errands and helping with tasks that involved venturing beyond the confines of our living space.

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    In the privacy of my own space, clad only in a pair of boxer briefs, I stood before the closet, sifting through an array of shirts and pants. The question lingered in my mind: what should I wear? Jack had mentioned his intention to treat me to a dinner at a recently launched Italian fusion restaurant downtown, but I remained uncertain about its level of formality. Nothing is more disconcerting than arriving at a date either overdressed or underdressed. Would a button-down shirt be too formal? Conversely, would a casual combination of a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans appear too laid-back?

    The fear of looking either stuck up or like a bum definitely didn''t help settle the anxiety stirring in my gut. After nearly working myself up to tears, I ultimately settled on a soft, dark red sweater that evoked the comforting ambiance of an autumn evening and paired it with black skinny jeans. Hoping fervently that my attire wouldn''t appear out of sync, I anxiously contemplated the possibility of Jack arriving in an outfit that would make me seem as if I didn''t belong next to him. One of the worst feelings was standing next to someone who appeared to be so monumental in confidence and self-worth that it shrunk you down to nothing. As much as most people do so unintentionally, it doesn''t make it any easier of a pill to swallow realizing you may never have that amount of love for yourself.

    I spent a few moments fiddling with my hair in front of the mirror, but ultimately opted to leave it in its natural state, avoiding any overly elaborate styling. After several months, my hair had finally regrown to its original chestnut brown shade, successfully shedding the remnants of the blonde hue from my previous haircut a couple of months prior.

    I never liked the color on me, but Chan had been the one to convince me to dye my hair after a drunken game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. The rules had been if he won, I had to dye my hair platinum blonde. If I won, he had to dye his hair purple. I lost, and the next day we''d gone to the nearest salon to carry out my end of the bet. Even as horrified as I had been to dye my previously virgin hair, the look on his face as he recorded the process on his cellphone and snapped goofy selfies of us made the sacrifice well worth it.

    As I let my hands fall from my head, my thoughts stubbornly wandered back to remarks of Chandler telling me that he liked how my hair looked when it was longer and fluffier rather than short and neater. The thought of cutting my feathery locks just to spite those memories crashed through the back of my mind, but it didn''t remain long due to the chime of my phone ringing from where it was laying on my bed pulling me back to reality. I walked across the room and picked it up, seeing Chandler''s caller ID before reading the message.

    ''Just finished shopping, be home soon :)''

    Swiftly crafting a response, I promptly stowed my phone in my back pocket. Despite my earnest attempts to maintain composure, my nerves were overpowering. It had been more than a year and a half since my last date, and truth be told, I wasn''t someone who ventured out frequently in the first place.

    I hadn''t even realized how long I''d taken to get ready, but Chan had been gone for nearly forty minutes at that point. I suddenly wished time would stop moving, and that felt incredibly odd as just weeks ago I''d been wanting time to go by quicker so that I could, hopefully, be with Chan again.

    Bouncing back and forth between manic thoughts, my mind urged me to cease my incessant worries and simply embrace the evening with Jack because I deserved it, because I owed it to myself. Throughout our interactions, he had consistently displayed qualities of sweetness, kindness, and genuine concern for my well-being. He was not only attractive but also possessed a warm and compassionate nature, treating me with utmost care. However, these positive attributes only heightened my sense of guilt. I couldn''t help but feel inadequate, as if he were investing his time in someone like me who might not be able to offer him everything he deserved.

    Finally managing to calm my frantic ruminations, I settled down at the edge of my bed and pondered whether my choice of cologne was too overpowering. A faint, queasy sensation lingered in the depths of my stomach, tempting me to abandon the plans altogether and instead embrace the comfort of my pajamas while nestled in front of the television, Chan at my side where everything was easy and felt just right.

    Would any of this be worth it in the end? What if I just get my heart broken, or what if I break his?

    Before spiraling further into uncertainty, my phone interrupted my thoughts with another notification. Ignoring the slight tremble in my fingers, I retrieved it from my pocket, swiftly unlocking it to read the incoming message,

    ''I''m almost there, can''t wait for tonight!''

    Gazing at the text message before me, I hesitated for a brief moment, weighing the decision of whether to reply to Jack or not. Summoning the courage within me, I resolved to respond before any second thoughts could hinder my actions,

    ''Ok! Me neither :)''

    Rising from my bed, I redirected my focus towards tidying up the living room. Methodically, I fluffed the pillows on the couch and meticulously folded the throw blanket that lay haphazardly across it. Despite the room already being in order, engaging in these mundane tasks served as a temporary distraction from the mounting apprehension that threatened to dissuade me from what awaited me in mere moments.

    No matter of seconds, minutes, or hours felt like enough to prepare myself. In due time, the doorbell chimed, instantly eliciting a flutter of nerves within my chest. Hastily, I retrieved my coat from its position on the kitchen table and swiftly slipped on my shoes. Casting a quick glance to ensure my wallet and phone resided securely within my pockets, I granted myself a solitary moment to collect my thoughts. With closed eyes, I inhaled deeply, savoring the calming breath before embarking on the unknown.

    You can do this, Henry. Just be yourself and don''t overthink things. He''s sweet and seems to be really interested in you, what could go wrong?

    With renewed resolve, I opened my eyes and exhaled, steeling myself for the moment ahead. Without hesitation, I reached for the doorknob and turned it, allowing the door to swing open, unveiling the beginning of an evening that held both anticipation and uncertainty.

    As the door gradually opened, a peculiar sensation crept over me, as if time had momentarily slowed. However, it wasn''t until the door was about a quarter of the way open that the faint sound of two voices engaged in conversation finally reached my ears. Perplexed, my brow furrowed in confusion, curiosity sparking within me as I strained to decipher the nature of the unexpected encounter.

    Once the door swung open completely, my eyes locked onto a sight that sent a chill coursing through my veins, causing my heart to plummet into the depths of my stomach.

    In an instant, the already heightened level of anxiety within me soared to an overwhelming degree as I absorbed the scene unfolding before my eyes. The situation that lay before me intensified my nerves to an unhealthy level, intensifying the weight of unease that had already burdened me throughout the evening.

    To my astonishment and disbelief, standing side by side just outside the door were not only Jack, as I had anticipated, but also Chandler, who stood there juggling groceries with his gaze fixed firmly on the ground.

    A surge of bewilderment coursed through me, causing my mind to reel as I tried to make sense of the unexpected presence of both Jack and Chandler in this peculiar and unforeseen convergence.

    In my panicked state, I''d completely forgotten that Chan was on the way home from the store. Who would''ve thought that he and Jack would arrive at the exact same time?

    Just my luck.

    In that very moment, I berated myself inwardly for naively convincing myself that the evening would unfold without a hitch. Never in my wildest imagination had I anticipated the ordeal of navigating such an excruciatingly awkward obstacle this early in the night.

    Regret washed over me, as I grappled with the realization that my optimism had led me astray, leaving me utterly unprepared to face the uncomfortable dynamics that now loomed before me.

 snapped

    Chandler

    "H-hi," Henry stammered, his voice betraying a hint of surprise. My gaze followed his, meeting the stranger''s cheerful expression as he stood beside me. Henry''s eyes then shifted to the bags in the tall man''s arms, prompting a quizzical raise of his eyebrow.

    "Hey," the man replied, his deep voice infusing the cool evening air that seeped into the apartment. It grew warmer with each passing second and I absolutely despised him already. He hadn''t even done anything wrong which only made him more annoying. "You look absolutely stunning." His eyes held a gentle warmth as they locked onto Henry''s, causing a visible flush of embarrassment to color his cheeks. Eventually, Henry mustered the words to express his gratitude for the compliment.

    "I''ll just take these inside," I coughed awkwardly and maneuvered past them, heading into the kitchen. The evening had already begun on an uncomfortable note, and now I found myself confined to the kitchen. I scratched the back of my neck, feeling the overpowering sense of uncertainty flood my mind further as I pondered my next move.

    I faced a dilemma: either I remained confined in the kitchen like a timid soul, waiting for the inevitable sound of the front door closing, or I mustered the courage to step out and risk exacerbating the situation. Despite the persistent ache in my chest, I contemplated whether it was worth adding fuel to the fire.

    A wave of guilt began to wash over me, compelling me to consider why I felt the need to apologize to Henry. It seemed as though I had stumbled upon an intimate moment that I wasn''t meant to witness. Despite the fact that the stranger had offered assistance with the groceries because he happened to be heading in the same direction, I couldn''t shake the feeling that I had somehow trespassed into a private space. Even though it wasn''t my fault, I carried a sense of wrongdoing within me.

    From the corner of the kitchen hidden away like a frightened puppy, I strained to hear the smooth timbre of his voice resonating softly through the entryway. "Here you go," he uttered, and I discerned the faint sound of plastic bags rustling, indicating that he had likely handed them over to Henry.

    Intrigued, I inched closer to the kitchen''s entryway, eager to catch a clearer snippet of their conversation. Following a brief moment of silence, his voice resumed with further explanation. "I helped him carry these up. Kind of a weird coincidence that we were headed to the same apartment, no?"

    Coincidence my ass, the universe is out to get me.

    They continued their hushed conversation for another minute or so, and with a surge of determination, I mustered the courage to seize the opportunity. I swiftly made my way towards Henry''s bedroom, which thankfully lay just across the hall.

    In an effort to appear nonchalant and unfazed by the situation, I adopted a casual and discreet demeanor. I reminded myself that Henry had every right to explore new connections, embark on dates, and enjoy himself. It was important to support his freedom to meet new people and embrace the excitement of new experiences. After all, Henry deserved to have fun independently. The fact that he was probably feeling smothered by my constant presence over the last several weeks hurt more than I wanted to admit.

    He needs his space, just like everyone does.

    Even if he''s different from everyone else to me, that doesn''t change the fact that he''s still just as human as I.

    Nevertheless, my attempts at maintaining composure couldn''t alleviate the profound ache in my bones or the agonizing thud of my heart. The thought of Henry being with someone else weighed heavily on me, causing a deep-seated discomfort. I couldn''t help but cringe as my mind drifted to the possibility of another person experiencing the same warmth in their stomach when Henry adorned them with his radiant smile, the kind that caused his honey-colored eyes to crinkle at the corners.

    Just as I thought I had safely reached the other side of the hall, my progress halted abruptly when I heard Henry''s gentle voice calling out to me in a soft tone. "Chan," he called out, his shy gaze peeking from behind the hallway''s wall, "I placed the remaining grocery bags on the counter. Would you mind putting them away for me?"

    His eyes intermittently met mine before averting, reflecting the same unease I felt within. I couldn''t help but wonder if my own emotional state was as apparent to him as his was to me. With a tinge of apology in his soft voice, he seemed to carry a burden that he didn''t deserve. I silently hoped that I could mask my own emotions more effectively, sparing him any unnecessary concern or discomfort. I didn''t want this evening to become any more peculiar for him.

    "Of course," I replied, mustering a small smile on my lips, aiming to reassure him that everything was indeed normal and that I wasn''t grappling with inner turmoil. "Enjoy your evening, alright? If you need anything, just shoot me a text."

    As my words reached Henry, a visible release of tension swept through his shoulders, causing them to relax. It seemed that my attempt to offer reassurance had succeeded in alleviating some of his unease, for which I was grateful. In response, a minuscule grin formed on his lips, so subtle that it was almost imperceptible. His gentle gaze, reminiscent of doe eyes, remained locked with mine for a fleeting moment.

    As my gaze lingered upon his smaller figure, an overwhelming desire surged within me��a selfish yearning for time to freeze, granting me the freedom to drink in his presence for as long as I desired. However, this longing was juxtaposed with the awareness that prince charming awaited him just a few yards away. This conflicting sensation left me feeling tainted, as if I were indulging in something forbidden and impure.

    This wasn''t my desire to fulfill- he wasn''t mine to yearn for.

    "Okay, thanks," Henry responded quietly. Looking away for the last time, he pivoted on his heels and proceeded down the hallway, uttering what seemed like "Are you ready?" in a hushed tone to his date. Soon after, the distinct sound of the front door clicking shut reverberated through the apartment, marking their departure.

    Then, I was left all on my own with an irritating itch of loneliness pricking at the corners of my heart.

    Reflecting on the unexpected events that transpired just moments earlier, my mind ran free. In an unlucky twist of fate, I had found myself face-to-face with the person who was taking Henry out. Adding to the complexity of the situation, this individual happened to be genuinely kind and respectful.

    Deep down, I genuinely wanted Henry to be with someone incredible. However, it was hard to ignore just how perfect he was. I mean, who goes out of their way to assist a stranger with carrying groceries up to their apartment?

    It shouldn''t have surprised me as much as it did, though. As Henry had shared glimpses of his few past romantic encounters with me, after teasing and coaxing him to spill the details of course, it became evident that the individuals he had been with were generally decent guys.

    Although those relationships ultimately didn''t work out, Henry wasn''t inclined to delve into the specifics. Instead, he maintained the explanation that none of those individuals had done anything wrong; it simply didn''t feel right for him. He kept the details sparse, suggesting that the connections lacked that elusive spark or deep resonance he sought.

    Back then, I struggled to comprehend the significance of Henry''s words. I conjectured that perhaps his lack of confidence hindered the growth of those budding relationships. However, as time passed, I began to experience that very feeling myself whenever the thought of being intimately involved with someone crossed my mind.

    Except when it comes to a certain someone with soft chestnut hair and skin as pale as winter snow, my perfectly constructed defenses seem to crumble. The picture-perfect image that I managed to keep polished over the years meant nothing to him, and even after the accident he never once made me feel weak or lesser than him due to my physical ailment. He holds a unique power over me, and despite my reservations and apprehensions, he has always had the ability to evoke a sense of longing and vulnerability that surpasses my usual reservations that no one else could truly access.

    Now, I understood the apprehension, the overwhelming weight of vulnerability, and the fear of potential heartache that accompanies such connections. It has left me cautious and hesitant, with an inclination to shield myself from the possibility of emotional turmoil.

    It took long enough to realize, but I knew that everything happened for a reason. Whether you believe in a God, higher power, or are an atheist, there''s no denying how fate brought him to me. When I needed someone most, he was delivered to me on a silver platter. When he could��ve ran off without a word, he held on for the ride. I want him badly- so much it physically hurts.

    I grappled with the realization that I had no grounds to feel anger or jealousy. If the rumors and speculations about Henry harboring feelings for me at some point in our shared history were indeed true, the likelihood of him still carrying such sentiments now seemed exceedingly slim. I had no right to cling onto false hopes or entertain fantasies that would only lead to disappointment. I know that it would be safest for me to accept the reality and let go of any lingering illusions.

    I had years to realize and question whether Henry really did see me as more than just his best friend. Now, it felt like there way absolutely no way he could possibly still want me intimately after all this time. After all, how could someone hold onto feelings like that for years? Surely, it would be impossible.

    As I mechanically put away the groceries, my mind spun in a disoriented haze that felt like hours passing by. I was running on empty, my mental and emotional reserves drained. It seemed as though nothing could restore my energy anymore. Food and sleep had lost their power to invigorate me. The only source of rejuvenation that I found each day was the mere presence of being with Henry. In his company, I felt a glimmer of vitality and a sense of completeness that temporarily eased the void within me.

    Recognizing the need to divert my attention, I embarked on a mission to thoroughly clean the apartment. Dusting every corner from top to bottom, I stubbornly refused to succumb to the debilitating grip of my own thoughts. I wasn''t great at organizing by any means, but that didn''t matter at the moment. I understood that delving deeper into the labyrinth of my mind could potentially engulf me completely, leaving me stranded without a clear path to resurface. The task at hand became my anchor, a means to maintain a semblance of control and ward off the overwhelming tide of introspection.

    As the clock displayed half-past eight, I found myself repeatedly checking my phone throughout the evening, anxiously awaiting a message from Henry. Logically, I knew that I should be the furthest thing from his mind while he was on a date with another man. Nevertheless, a nagging sense of worry persisted in the recesses of my conscience, refusing to be silenced. Despite my efforts to push it away, the concerned voice within me continued to cast its shadow of doubt and unease.

    Unfortunately, the worries didn''t cease at that point. Innocent concerns about his well-being gradually gave way to more sinister thoughts, leading my mind into the depths of dark corners I desperately wished to avoid. I couldn''t prevent the images of him being intimate with that man from searing themselves behind my closed eyelids. The flames of jealousy and insecurity flickered, threatening to consume my sanity.

    My mind conjured vivid images of him entwined with unfamiliar faces, their hands caressing him and their lips exploring his in ways that felt intrusive and most certainly undeserved. The mental playback looped incessantly, like a broken record stuck on repeat. The notion of their vile lips sullying his feather-soft, warm skin weighed heavily on my thoughts. The nameless figures robbed him of his innocence, clutching and tearing at him as if he were nothing more than a disposable object. Although he wasn''t mine to have in those ways either, I couldn''t handle the idea of him giving himself away like that.

    It was selfish and disgusting of me to put him on a holy pedestal where he was untouchable to anyone but me, but I couldn''t help it. The already short fuse I had hidden as best I could the past few weeks had just caught fire, and it was starting to creep toward the dynamite that was my self-control.

    In a final fit of frustration, I flung my phone onto the couch beside me and let out an exasperated sigh. Sitting upright, I vigorously rubbed my hands over my face, as if trying to shake off the tormenting thoughts. A wave of hopelessness washed over me, as it seemed that no matter how hard I tried to reign myself in, my mind would inevitably surrender to its relentless, tormenting course. Remaining in this apartment, where traces of Henry''s presence lingered in every nook and cranny, was becoming unbearable. The sweet scent of him permeated the air, and reminders of him were scattered throughout every crevice. If I continued to stay here any longer, I feared I really would reach my breaking point.

    I hastily stuffed my phone into the pocket of my black jeans and swiftly pulled on the hoodie that had been draped over the side of the couch. Determined to escape the suffocating atmosphere, I hurried toward the front door. In my rush, I nearly stumbled over my own feet, my movements a flurry of agitation. Snatching my wallet from the small table in the entryway, I fumbled slightly as I struggled to put on my sneakers. Each action carried an underlying desperation, as if escaping the confines of that apartment had become an urgent necessity.

    I didn''t have any clue where I was going, but I knew I needed to get out of there.

    As soon as I stepped outside and locked the door behind me, a rush of crisp, cold night air enveloped my senses, momentarily jolting me out of my dazed state. Inhaling deeply, I welcomed the refreshing breath of fresh air, allowing it to invigorate my senses. With renewed determination, I proceeded down the apartment''s outdoor corridor, my steps guided by the faint glow of the overhead lights. My destination was the small sidewalk leading to the parking lot, where I sought solace and a temporary respite from the confines of my troubled thoughts.

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    Suddenly, my ears perked up as a familiar voice reached my senses, prompting me to instinctively turn my head to the left. To my surprise, I noticed two figures standing by a sleek, black car, which sparked a glimmer of recognition. Due to the concrete pillar I''d been leaning on while thinking of somewhere to go blocked part of my vision, I had failed to notice a car pull into a spot near the side of the lot and two gentlemen exit.

    As the shorter man emitted a sweet, melodic giggle, a sinking sensation gripped my stomach, signaling an uncomfortable realization. In that moment, I knew deep down that it would have been wiser to avert my gaze and continue on my way. Yet, despite this intuition, an unexplainable curiosity compelled me to linger a moment longer, unable to tear my eyes away from the scene unfolding before me.

    Aware that the scene unfolding before me was undoubtedly a private moment not meant for my eyes, I acknowledged the boundaries of personal space and the importance of respecting others'' privacy. However, a sudden, masochistic tendency seemed to take hold, rendering me immobile, my feet seemingly rooted to the concrete beneath me. Despite my internal conflicts, I found myself trapped in a self-imposed paralysis, unable to break free from the invisible chains that held me in place, as my mind wrestled with a perverse desire to continue observing the unfolding situation.

    A tumultuous, deadly mix of emotions churned within me as I witnessed the sight before my eyes. Henry stood with his back turned to me, his arms draped surprisingly casually around the fortunate man''s neck, their bodies intimately close. The proximity between them suggested that their lips had undoubtedly met in a passionate kiss, igniting a searing flame within me that coursed through every fiber of my being. My stomach clenched in anguish, and a frigid sensation washed over me, freezing my veins as the reality of the moment struck me with a painful intensity.

    Engulfed in an internal struggle that seemed to be slipping further out of my control, I found myself on the losing end of a merciless battle. My mind taunted me, mocking my feeble attempts to shield myself from the painful reality unfolding before me. Meanwhile, my heart quivered and crumbled, its fragile pieces shattering with each passing second. The opposing forces within me clashed relentlessly, leaving me feeling utterly helpless and overwhelmed by the weight of my emotions.

    Nothing made sense anymore, and every meaning I''d attached to Henry and I''s interactions over the last several weeks suddenly rendered meaningless at my unmoving feet. Fists clenched at my sides, my heart was certainly pounding in my burning ears. I wasn''t bleeding, but everything hurt.

    A labored breath escaped my lips involuntarily, and the overwhelming sorrow slicing through my entire being caused me to lose the last of my composure. As a result, I stumbled backward, my unsteady footing betraying me. The scuffing sound of my sneakers against the concrete disrupted the otherwise serene silence of the night, catching the attention of the taller man who had been absorbed in his intimate exchange with Henry.

    As a voice inside my head screamed at me to flee from the scene with all haste, my legs seemed to have turned into lead, rendering me immobile. The weight of the moment anchored me to the ground, making escape impossible. The flustered man''s gaze instinctively shifted towards the source of the noise, his eyes locking onto mine as he recognized my presence. With a mixture of surprise and realization, he disentangled himself from Henry''s embrace, their intimate moment abruptly interrupted.

    A look of confusion washed over Henry''s gentle features as he swiftly pivoted to face me, attempting to make sense of the unexpected interruption. His eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and perhaps a hint of shame as they met mine, his cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson. In a rush of movement, he averted his gaze, mumbling something hurriedly to his companion, their words hushed and indiscernible from where I stood, just beyond earshot. The distance between us prevented me from deciphering the meaning behind their exchanged whispers.

    The red tint of his pert lips could be seen from the street light beaming down on the couple as if it were a stage. The twisting in my gut intensified further, the cold doing nothing to ease the sudden illness that I felt creeping through me.

    Completely overwhelmed by a flood of emotions quickly drowning me and weighed down by the string of unfortunate events that had unfolded, I was paralyzed, unable to take the appropriate action of apologizing and making a hasty exit. The immense sense of unease only grew with each passing second, as if I were being seen as some sort of voyeuristic intruder, and the thought only intensified my internal turmoil. Though I made a feeble attempt to retreat, my steps were slow and labored, as if invisible shackles bound my feet, making escape an arduous task.

    Despite the tension swirling around us, the man still managed to offer a gentle smile, his arms enveloping Henry in an embrace that spoke of familiarity and affection. His gaze, however, held a complex mix of anger and embarrassment as it briefly met mine. My own eyes instinctively dropped to the ground, the weight of shame settling heavily upon me, yet the vivid images that had burned themselves into my mind continued to haunt me. The sound of the car door opening pierced through the silence, jolting me back to reality with a chilling surge of fear coursing through my veins.

    With a final glance and a warm smile, the man settled into the driver''s seat, the door closing with a soft thud. He rolled down the window, engaging in a brief exchange with Henry, their voices carrying faintly through the night air. Some space between the pair finally flickered a bit of regained control in my mind and prompted me to turn away, determined to distance myself from the scene unfolding before me. Each step I took was fueled by a desperate desire to put as much distance as possible between myself and the heartache that had consumed me.

    Perhaps if I pretended that it wasn''t weird or awkward when returning home, I could convince Henry that everything was just peachy and this wouldn''t do any real harm.

    However, the ground crumbled underneath me with each step I took. The weight of my actions bore down on me, amplifying my feelings of guilt and self-doubt. The realization that I had inadvertently disrupted Henry''s date not once, but twice, filled me with a profound sense of disappointment in myself. How could I have been so blind to the consequences of my actions?

    The truth was painfully clear: I had allowed my own desires and insecurities to overshadow Henry''s happiness, even if it hadn''t been my intention. My selfishness had tainted what should have been a special evening for him. Regret washed over me like a tidal wave, and I found myself grappling with the knowledge that I couldn''t undo the damage I had caused.

    Helplessness settled in, as I recognized that some things were beyond my control. I couldn''t rewind time or magically fix the situation. All I could do now was confront my own shortcomings, acknowledge the pain I had caused, and strive to do anything I could to make it up to Henry.

    As I neared the corner of the apartment complex, ready to make my escape, the sound of hurried footsteps echoing on the sidewalk closing in startled me. I spun around, my heart racing, and found Henry standing there, his disheveled appearance and flushed cheeks only adding to his flustered state. His eyes, usually so warm and comforting, were now filled with a whirlwind of emotions that stirred a mix of anxiety and untamable heat within me. Despite the chill in the air, my cheeks burned under his gaze. There was something different about him, a weariness in his eyes that I had never seen before. Concern flooded over me, intensifying with each passing moment as I could do nothing but observe his unusual behavior as if a bomb were about to go off any moment.

    "Where do you think you''re going?" His voice was positively frigid as it cut through the night, its coldness sending yet another trail of goosebumps down my spine. It was a tone I had never heard directed at me before, and it pierced through the air around us sharper than the icy gusts of wind nipping at my face.

    "Um," I stammered, my mind racing for an explanation that would make sense to him in that moment, "I... I just needed some fresh air, that''s all."

    He silenced me with a small hand before letting out a puff of air and turning around. He stalked toward the apartment complex''s entrance with a newfound purpose that was completely unfamiliar to me.

    In a moment of foolishness and fear, I considered just continuing my previous journey to some undecided destination for the night but decided against it as the anger that seemed to be radiating off of Henry''s typically petite form crushed me like an ant at his feet. As he stormed back to the apartment, I knew that there was no running away from what happened. Ignoring the matter at hand would be childish and would prove me to be an even worse friend than I already was at the moment.

    I followed him quickly, but made sure to keep several feet of distance between us. The heaviness in my chest grew with each step, my mind plagued with self-condemnation. The air around us was charged with tension, and I couldn''t ignore the dark cloud looming overhead if I tried. It mirrored the inner turmoil that was stewing inside me at the very moment, so close to boiling over and making an even bigger mess, one that couldn''t possibly be cleaned up. Every beat of my heart was accompanied by a chorus of regrets and self-reproach. I longed for a back button, for a way to undo the hurt I had caused. As we entered the apartment, the weight of my actions settled on my shoulders, but no preparation could brace me for the storm that was about to unleash.

    Henry''s silhouette loomed a few steps in front of me as he kicked off his shoes in a chilling silence and dropped his coat on the kitchen table before coming to a halt in the family room. I removed my own shoes before cautiously stepping toward him, not knowing if I should attempt to speak or if I even could.

    "Henry-" I started to try and give any kind of explanation I could muster, prepared to spew word vomit but he turned around in a whirl of anger, hands on his hips as his chest rose and fell shakily.

    "What the hell was that?" His tone was deadly, face wearing an expression I''d never seen on him before. It was like the Henry Sallow I''d known since childhood was replaced with someone new.

    "W-What do you mean?" My voice shook slightly, my throat suddenly a desert void of water. My hands shook slightly as I watched my best friend fall apart before me. Despite my idiotic rebuttal, I knew exactly what he meant. He, understandably, wanted to know why I''d been creeping around like some sort of pervert while he shared a kiss with his date. I didn''t have an answer for him.

    "Why...why do you keep getting in the way?" His voice was low, as if he was any louder, he would lose his cool completely. "Twice. Twice in one night, you''ve managed to somehow mess things up for me." He shook his head slightly, scoffing, and beginning to pace back and forth.

    It felt as though he was having a soliloquy, addressing an invisible audience, while I stood beside him, unnoticed. The notion that I was merely a specter didn''t diminish the sharpness of his words, piercing through me like relentless bullets.

    The man I knew who was always so careful with his words as to not hurt anyone was long gone, leaving a ravenous clone of himself who couldn''t be restrained. His anguish was valid, but the shock that it was aimed at me was something I still was having trouble coming to terms with.

    "Henry, I really didn''t mean to. I was just going to get some fresh air, I had no idea you''d be out there-doing- doing that with him." The moment the stumbling words escaped my feeble lips, I was painfully aware of my mistake, adding yet another blunder to the growing list.

    Henry''s eyes were incredulous as he stared at me in disbelief, "Doing that? Why do you say it like I''ve sinned? Am I not allowed to do something as simple as kissing someone?" Henry looked at me with disappointment from where he stood across the room, causing another stinging sensation to reverberate through my chest. He was positively steaming, worrying me more with every passing moment. I hadn''t noticed earlier due to the lack of light outside, but I was now able to see his features in more detail. from here, I could see that his typically soft and honey eyes were red-rimmed in the way that they turned after he''d had a drink or two. His foreign attitude and demeanor quickly aided in the conclusion that he''d probably had some alcohol with dinner.

    He stood before me like a fierce, untamed creature, and I suddenly found myself tasked with the role of trying to calm him down. Aware of the delicate situation, I knew that my next words would be crucial, but I also understood that his anger might escalate regardless of what I said. I knew he was furious with me, but I needed him to cool off a bit before we could really communicate with one another. The alcohol in his system wasn''t helping the fragile atmosphere whatsoever.

    "I didn''t mean it in a judgmental way, Henry. I was simply taken by surprise. Please, just take a moment to calm down. Have you been drinking? Why don''t we just take a seat..." I pleaded, my words falling on deaf ears. It seemed as though he was venting his pent-up frustration, releasing years'' worth of suppressed emotions. The intensity of his anger was overwhelming

    "So what if I have? Am I not able to do that either?" I sighed as Henry''s frustration skyrocketed as he took a step toward me, ""Why are you asking me to calm down? It''s impossible for me to find any semblance of peace when you''ve shattered my only chance at happiness in what feels like an eternity." Our eyes locked, but a wild glare replaced the usual glow his held. "Why do you insist on treating me like some fragile, na?ve child? I am just as much an adult as you, and I deserve to have someone who wants me, too."

    I could have blamed his words on the alcohol running through his veins, but the pain in his voice proved it all to be real. My previously frozen blood began to thaw, frustration warming me. Although I was in the wrong, this wasn''t exactly fair for me either.

    For him to say that he had no one who wanted him was a massive blow to the collected and calm attitude I was desperately trying to front since realizing he was a little buzzed. He suddenly looked very much sober, but there was a fire that was growing hotter with each passing second, licking at the fuse already set ablaze earlier. The alcohol hadn''t gone as far as to intoxicate him, but gave him the confidence he needed to confront me.

    I had always prided myself on keeping my composure around Henry, never allowing anger or frustration to consume me. However, the recent chain of events had pushed me to the edge. This was not how things were supposed to unfold, and the realization that everything had spiraled in the opposite direction had begun to make my skin crawl in the way it seldom did when I was beginning to lose myself. What frustrated me even more was the feeling that Henry was placing the blame squarely on my shoulders, holding me responsible for the misfortune that had befallen us. I didn''t choose this. I wanted to be there for him through thick and thin ever since we met, and I thought he could see that. I always wanted him, as a friend, family, and now as something more. Yet, his words had made me feel as though all my efforts to be his structure of support were in vain.

    "I never once said you don''t deserve happiness. Also, I don''t treat you like a child. I know you''re an adult and I respect that, along with whatever decisions you choose to make. I always have," I replied, my voice laced with sincerity but buried underneath growing frustration. Stepping closer to him, my hands clenched into fists as my pent-up anger and jealousy flowed out involuntarily. "I admit, I made things awkward out there, and I''m truly sorry for that. But why are you so fixated on this guy? What makes him so much better than the others? From where I stand, he doesn''t seem all that special. You can do better."

    We now stood only a few feet apart, and Henry abruptly halted his persistent pacing, a nervous habit I knew all too well. His gaze, wild and unfocused, lifted to meet mine, locking in a piercing stare.

    If this new, unstable side of him was a ticking bomb, I''d just lit his fuse.

    "From where you stand?�� the look on Henry��s flushed face was incredulous, a hint of an exasperated smile showing on his lips as if what I��d said was completely ridiculous.

    ��Where do you stand, Chandler? Somewhere high above me, pulling and playing my strings like a puppeteer? Now that I do a single thing that��s not for you but for me, you give a shit? Why does it even fucking matter to you?!" Henry''s voice reverberated, its volume surpassing any I had heard from him before. His eyes, wide and glazed with anger, glistened with the presence of fresh, frustrated tears.

    I was rendered speechless by his outburst. I gazed at him with my lips ajar, my mind struggling to comprehend the situation unfolding before me. Henry''s intense animosity towards me was evident, yet there was an underlying frustration with himself that remained shrouded in mystery. His once neat and silky hair now stood in disheveled tufts, evidence of his relentless tugging, and his cheeks remained flushed with a pink hue that mirrored his fiery temperament. This time, it wasn''t because of the cold or the drinks he had earlier that night; it was due to everything he was feeling inside boiling up over the edges of the pot and spilling at our feet.

    The weight of the moment hung heavily in the air, suffocating any possibility of reconciliation. It was an impasse- a clash of emotions that seemed insurmountable. The truth, buried deep within me, felt like an untamed beast yearning to be unleashed, yet I knew that its release would only further deepen the chasm between us. No matter how desperately I wanted to share my inner turmoil, I couldn''t find the words that would make sense. There was nothing that would bridge the gap without sounding like madness.

    It was all too much, and my inner demons had their hands wrapped tight around my throat, forcing me to do something- anything to get them to loosen their grip.

    At that moment, I finally snapped.

    No lie I could have rambled off to pacify him would do anything to fix this in the long run. There was no point of return, no save file for an easy reset in case this all goes too far.

    Suddenly, it was all bullshit- the thoughts that encompassed every corner of my mind telling me to try and say something to calm him down ceased to hold any significance. Even if he were to kick me out and choose to sever our ties indefinitely, my unstable mind somehow found solace in the fact that he would finally get a glimpse into the depth of how I was feeling.

    I let go of my last rational thought, surrendering to the chaotic mess that had unfolded within me. Despite my efforts to conceal my true feelings and tiptoe around delicate situations, it all seemed futile now. The walls I had built to protect myself and shield Henry from harm had crumbled. I had already caused significant damage, and the thought of things worsening seemed almost inconceivable at this point. I''d already done this much, how could it get any worse?

    "Fuck this."

    In a final moment of desperate clarity, I pushed Henry''s quickly shrinking figure against the wall behind him, my hand instinctively finding its place over his racing heart. A turbulent concoction of anger, frustration, sadness, and confusion, fueled me. Above them all, was the rising tide of a vehement angst. The world around us faded into a hazy blur as I closed my eyes, surrendering to the overpowering urge that consumed me. With trembling lips, I sealed the unspoken turmoil that had plagued us both as the minuscule space between our bodies closed completely.

 broken promise

    Henry

    In an instant, the world halted, every atom suspended in time. Gravity ceased its pull, leaving us adrift in a momentary pause. Numbness enveloped me amidst the chaos leading to this juncture, my feet rooted to the ground as the man I''d harbored secret affections for drew closer than ever before.

    Chandler''s touch, gentle and tentative, stirred a flurry of emotions within me. At first hesitant, his lips gradually responded to mine with a newfound urgency, each movement imbued with a sweetness I had long imagined but never experienced. Yet, despite the palpable reality of the moment, disbelief lingered like a stubborn shadow.

    His lips were velvet as they started to move against mine. They rolled against me sweetly, each wave intensifying slightly as he added pressure to the kiss. For a few seconds, I was still lost in the feeling. Something that I''d only dreamt of happening was occurring in reality, but it wasn''t sinking in.

    Was any of this real? No matter how sure and tangible the pressure of Chan''s lips was on mine, I couldn''t accept what was happening. I''d had plenty of dreams about this over the years, but none were this realistic. They were distant, so incredibly impossible that they woke me up gasping for just one more taste.

    As his hand left its place against the wall, descending to grasp my hip, a sudden awareness pierced through the surreal haze. Reality crashed back with a jolt, shattering the illusion and flooding me with icy clarity.

    My eyes snapped open and my hands pushed at his chest, putting a couple of feet of distance between us and separating our lips. I still couldn''t figure out what the hell was happening. Did someone spike my drink at the restaurant earlier? However, I was immediately hit with the proof that this wasn''t some sort of sick hallucination when my eyes locked with his.

    Chandler was positively swimming with inner turmoil. I''d never seen him look that way before. His eyes were wide as if he couldn''t believe what he''d just done. His face was quickly turning pale, but his cheeks were positively flaming. He looked feverish and completely and utterly lost, a mere stranger hiding within a familiar body. The Chandler Lee I once knew had jumped ship and gone missing.

    All of the previous anger and frustration I''d felt toward him vanished. Jack, the fight, and everything else I had been feeling previously didn''t matter any longer. Chandler crossed a line that I thought he''d etched in stone all those years ago.

    Just like that.

    I was no longer upset with him for sabotaging my date with Jack. I knew deep down that he hadn��t done it on purpose, but at the time I was so frustrated that nothing ever seemed to go my way. I was trying so hard to move on but ended up failing once again. I was disappointed in myself and the world for the crappy luck I��d been cursed with, and it caused my fuse to blow.

    Riding the aftershocks, I was beside myself that Chandler had done something so drastic so easily. I''d been secretly in love with him for so many painful, long years. Yet, he could feel one second of confusion or whatever it was that went through his mind, and just kiss me. I''d never even had the courage to hold his hand for a beat too long.

    In that one measly second, everything had changed dramatically. The whole world turned upside down, throwing off gravity and causing the stars and moon outside to burn out. Timelines collapsed and new ones began as history and fate rewrote themselves.

    Every plan or hope I had in a long friendship with Chan crumbled and distorted. There was nothing else that mattered anymore. All my eyes could see was the man I thought I knew better than anyone else falling apart in front of me. I hated how, for the first time since I��d known him, he looked just as scared as I was.

    "What the hell are you doing?" My eyes were wide as I stared blankly at his broad chest in front of me. I couldn''t bear to look at his widened eyes any longer. His pupils were blown wide, drowning out the honey brown and resembling a dear caught in headlights.

    "Henry," He squeezed his eyes shut and ran his hands through his messy onyx hair, taking a step back and breathing quickly, "I-I''m sorry. I shouldn''t have done that- it wasn''t supposed to happen like that. I just-" He cut himself off, beginning to pace back and forth in front of me.

    Despite saying my name, I knew he no longer having a conversation with me. He was arguing with himself inside, fighting to speak his thoughts but they came out broken and muddled as a result. As confused and lost as I was at that moment, I still felt an annoyingly suffocating urge to comfort and calm him down.

    "Yeah��" I observed him as he made his way to the couch and sat down, crossing his hands as he leaned his elbows on his knees. He was trying to make himself as small as possible, hiding from everything. "You know what, I think we both need some rest." My heart was pounding in my chest, and as badly as I craved to know what the hell he was thinking, I felt like my brain was about to combust. My body was burning up, but a cold-sweat sent goosebumps running down my spine.

    A part of me knew that even if I tried to push him further, he wouldn''t have any answers. From where he sat, I could see his mind spinning in circles. His almond eyes were trained on the floor, refusing to glance anywhere else until I walked past him to leave the room.

    He caught my forearm in his grasp, standing to his full height and taking a shallow breath as I turned to look at him. His Adam��s apple bobbed within the long expanse of his neck as he swallowed hard.

    "Henry," His voice broke slightly, and for the first time in all the years that I''d known Chandler Lee, I saw his eyes start to brim with tears, "I''m sorry. Please-" He seemed to choke on his own words, pausing to look down at our socked feet and away from my face.

    He knew what he''d done. He changed things for good, and the worst part was that there wasn''t anything I could do to fix it. Usually, I knew exactly what to say to make him feel better. I knew what calmed him and put him at ease, but I was at a loss for words. He crossed a line that I never would''ve thought he would trespass, and now that he did I was left not knowing how to comprehend it.

    There was nothing I could do to make the situation he just put us in vanish. We couldn''t just pretend it didn''t happen, but I didn''t know where to go from here. Having a conversation with him right now felt like an impossible task. My heart was beating out of my chest, ready to burst through my ribcage and make a run for it.

    I know we were both lost in an angry haze just moments before, but even that didn''t explain why he''d done something so crazy. There was too much to think about and too many questions that didn''t have answers. By the look of it, we both needed some time to think.

    I still couldn''t fully process what just happened. My mind was clouded with a thick fog of confusion, relentless as I tried desperately to clear it away so I could attempt to get ahold of myself.

    There was so much I wanted to say and so much I needed to know, but how? I forced myself to swallow the growing lump in my throat and pry my arm out of Chandler''s grip, only meeting his watery eyes for a moment, "Sleep well. I''ll see you in the morning."

    I turned around and quickly trudged to my bedroom before Chan could see my own eyes filling with fresh, frustrated tears. If I stuck around any longer, I''d break down in front of him. I felt as if I was about to spill the contents of my stomach and faint all at once.

    What happened didn''t fully sink in until I closed the door behind me and let it all go. I dropped onto my bed in a heap, letting my face fall into my quivering hands at last. The sobs wracked through my body and shook my shoulders as I tried my best to stay as quiet as possible. The last thing I needed was for Chandler to hear me.

    I was never one to pity myself or cry over things that I couldn''t control. However, I was feeling so much at once that my heart was weighing down on my stomach, leaving me feeling about as heavy as a ton of bricks.

    It felt like everything had changed since the accident. Chandler was more touchy than usual, and he babied me a bit more than I remembered him doing before. Yet, I stubbornly brushed it off and blamed it on him needing comfort and someone to take care of; something he could control after such a horrible event nearly took his life.

    I thought back to what he said after I pushed him away. ''It wasn''t supposed to happen like that.'' Does that mean there was another way it was supposed to happen? Did he want it to happen differently?

    Then again, maybe I heard him wrong. I was so panicked and shocked, maybe I didn''t hear him correctly, or maybe what he said just came out wrong. It couldn''t possibly be anything more than that, right? Lee Chandler had only ever dated girls and had an interest in gossiping about the cutest girls at school. He was the type to run around the playground pulling on girl''s pigtails.

    Never once had he told me about any confusion he''d felt about whether he was into guys as well. He always told me anything and everything pretty early on in our friendship, so why would he keep something like that from me?

    Did he feel like he couldn''t trust me? Was I not a good enough friend?

    That thought burned as it settled in my chest. I should''ve been around more recently. Maybe I could''ve taken a couple more days off of work here and there just to be with him. Sure, I already missed more than I could handle making up for, but maybe there was a way to make it possible. What was he going through? He put on a smile that seemed so much like the good old days, I''d assumed he was doing well. Perhaps I should have known it was a bit too quick for such a miraculous recovery.

    My thoughts were suffocating, wildly whizzing through my mind as I tried to decode the situation. Maybe he truly was just confused. Maybe he was just a bit... pent-up? Surely it had been a while since he''d been intimate with a woman.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Then, why was he so affected by it? His reaction was nothing like I could have ever expected. I''d never seen him even come close to crying before, but he was falling apart out there. Watching someone who''d always been an untreatable force start to rip at the seams was absolutely terrifying.

    I was itching to go back out there and talk to him about it. A sick feeling was settling in my gut, urging me to stop being childish and running away from my problems. I shook my head, feeling ridiculous that I was so scared. I wasn''t the one who kissed him; I didn''t have anything to explain. All I had to do was listen, but I wasn''t even strong enough to do that.

    Still, I knew that I needed answers. What was going on inside his head that made him do it?

    The image of his fearful, lost eyes was burned behind my lids. My heart thudded painfully against my ribcage at the thought of Chandler so upset with himself that he couldn''t hold it in any longer. Still, I wasn''t ready to go out there and face him.

    I stood up once the tears started to cease their fall onto my puffy face and undressed quickly, leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor. There was no use in getting worked up over something that most likely meant nothing. All good friends had awkward moments that they forgive and forget.

    Maybe this was ours.

    Maybe he drank. Even though doing so was extremely dangerous during recovery, perhaps he''d decided to do so anyway.

    For my sanity''s sake, I chose to ignore the fact that I knew there hadn''t been a single ounce of alcohol on his tongue while his lips encompassed my own.

    Even though forgetting felt like the last thing I could do, I had to at least attempt to move forward. On my nightstand, the clock sat loudly ticking its hands with every second that passed. It was patronizing me; a reminder that the night was coming to a close even if I didn''t want it to. As badly as I wished I could stop time and wallow in my confusion and pain for a while longer, the world was still turning. No matter how long I sat and tried to put the pieces together, nothing made sense.

    With an exhausted huff, I threw the covers back and buried myself in my bed already knowing that I wasn''t going to get any sleep tonight.

    As the moon bid the stars farewell for the night and the sun kissed the horizon, the morning was dreadfully arriving outside my window. The tears and my brain working in overdrive for most of the night finally wore me down enough to allow me to be lulled to sleep for a bit. As I slipped into a fitful slumber, my mind drowsily swam with the memory of Chandler''s petal-soft lips on mine.

    When I awoke only a few hours later, I debated just staying in bed for the rest of the day. It was Saturday, which meant there was no work. Technically, there was nothing I had to do. However, I forced myself to get up and ignore the migraine pounding in my head. I knew that nothing good could possibly come from pretending like I didn''t exist and I couldn''t hide under my covers forever.

    I also knew that I needed to work things out with Chandler, no matter how much thinking about it made my chest fill with anxiety.

    I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and pulled them on slowly. I then trudged over to my closet, looking for a sweater. Out of habit, my hand went for Chandler''s worn hoodie that he let me borrow so often growing up that he ended up just giving it to me.

    Once my skin brushed the soft cotton, my hand flew back as if I''d been singed. My head was instantly flooded with an even more vivid memory of last night''s events, making my stomach churn all over again. The feeling of his lips had set my body aflame in the way I''d so desperately wanted Jack''s to do, and the smell of his musky cologne was still burned into my nose. He always smelled amazing-he smelled familiar and like home, but the heat of his body and the sensation of him that close to me made him smell even better. If I hadn''t seen how affected Chan was last night then I still would have convinced myself that I imagined it all.

    The reality was that it was real, though. Chandler kissed me, whether I could accept it or not.

    I averted my eyes quickly, grabbing the next sweater I saw and pulling it on hastily. I slowly made my way to the door before settling my hand on the knob. The metal was cool against my skin, calming my nerves a bit. I took a deep breath, preparing to be faced with a Chandler who was very ready to talk about what happened. He was always calculating things. To others, he seemed at ease and chill. Inside, he was always choosing his words carefully and trying his best to avoid mistakes. With this knowledge, I figured he''d been thinking about what to say to me the entire night and would be prepared to discuss last night.

    I swung the door open quickly before I could talk myself out of it and stepped into the hallway.

    From the second I crossed the threshold of my bedroom into the hall, I knew something was wrong.

    To my surprise, it was deadly silent. The usual murmur of the television wasn''t echoing around the apartment, and there was no familiar rustling of Chandler in the kitchen making breakfast. My brows furrowed in confusion when I stepped into the living room and saw none other than Chan zipping a small duffle bag shut on the couch.

    "Chandler?" My voice was soft in the tension-filled air, "What are you doing?" I knew the answer, but I refused to accept it.

    His eyes snapped up, startled at my sudden entrance, "Oh, good morning." His voice was quiet as he looked around restlessly, not settling on anything for more than a second before skirting away again. "I-I have somewhere to be right now. Also, I gotta go bring some stuff back to my place." His voice still had its usual resonating depth, but it was also unfamiliarly frail and shook slightly as he picked the duffle bag up and swung the strap over his broad shoulder before making his way to the door slowly. "The doctor called and said it''s fine for me to be on my own again because my recovery has gone so well..."

    His movements were slightly panicked- like he didn''t quite know what to do or where to go. He refused to look at me for more than a second at a time, and if anxiety was rising in my chest before, it was now bubbling over and spilling at my feet.

    Don''t do this, Chandler.

    Don''t push me away.

    I stood still, not knowing what I should say to diffuse the situation. I didn''t know what needed to be done in order to try and fix things, but I knew for sure that I didn''t want Chandler to leave. Of all the things I''d been prepared to deal with after I stepped out of the haven that was my bedroom, this wasn''t one of them.

    Still, my mind was covered in honey, its thick ooze preventing my thoughts from forming coherent words. I wondered if this was how Chandler had felt last night; wanting to say so much all at once but not knowing how.

    "Chan," I followed him to the door, trying my best to stay calm and collected while I watched him slip his shoes on and put his wallet in the back pocket of his black jeans. "You don''t have to do this." I felt my throat closing again, and my blood ran cold as I suddenly felt sick.

    He paused for a moment and turned toward me, as if considering saying something but closed his mouth and shook his head slightly. Just like that, his eyes were empty and the bags under them were dark, sucking away the pure joy they once emanated.

    "I''ll see you." He gave me a small, barely-there smile that didn''t even come close to reaching his cat-like eyes. I opened my mouth to say something that would make him stay, but he was out of the door and closing it behind him in a blur.

    My eyes burned with hot, fresh tears as my lips quivered. Yet, I couldn''t move from my spot in front of the door, even as my vision blurred and my knees began to shake.

    He left, and I didn''t know when or if he was planning on coming back.

    "Dammnit!" I pounded my fist on the wall, huffing as my chest rose and fell erratically. I was losing it quickly, but I was scared for us more than anything. All of the stress I''d been feeling bubbled up inside of me and combusted.

    My thoughts were all over the place. They flew around the room in circles, mocking me and snickering at my misery as they poked and prodded at my shivering body.

    I wasn''t mad at Chandler for what he did. I was mad at myself for running away instead of staying with him and waiting for him to explain himself. I knew I should''ve been there for him, even if it took all night for him to be able to express one coherent thought. He was so lost in his own head, and I hated the fact that I walked away while he was crumbling in front of me.

    He was my best friend; my first love. How did I manage to make things even worse?

    I was selfish; I was so overwhelmed with what happened and how I was feeling inside that I was blinded to the obvious signs that he wasn''t doing okay. I knew he''d been acting off for a while but I was so focused on being the perfect best friend that I was too scared to ask him about it. I didn''t push when I needed to, and I let him deal with whatever it was that he was going through on his own- without his best friend.

    If I could go back, I''d finally tell him how I felt. I''d tell him that I wasn''t angry at him for kissing me but I needed an explanation. I''d pull him back in and try to express how much he means to me, even if it was just a moment of confusion and curiosity to him.

    Even if he rejected me and told me that it was a stupid mistake, I''d finally have told him the truth. I''d no longer feel like a liar hiding secrets from the person I cherished more than anything.

    Most of all, I resented myself for letting him walk out that door without so much as a promise to come back.

    As I fell to my knees, back to the wall, I faced the door he''d walked out of just minutes before. I felt my mind slipping away from me like prey from its predator. I was so tired, and I couldn''t handle all these feelings at once.

    The crisp morning air was bitingly cold and unforgiving around me as if there were no longer any walls around me to protect me from the outside world. Yet, even the sharp pinch of a blade cutting through my skin would have hurt less than what I was feeling at that moment.

    Hating others is easy, but hating yourself burns in a way that leaves a scar.

    Even if I didn''t want to admit it before, I was faced with it now. I pretended to be nothing more than his best friend for so many years that I falsely convinced myself that I could live my life fully, even if we decided to go our separate ways one day. I always told myself that I would be fine as long as he was happy. Now, the realization of just how pathetic I truly was from the thought of life without him stared me straight in the face.

    Watching him lay in that hospital bed for so long, I promised that I''d never let him go if he woke up. I said it almost every day, wondering if he could hear the words I whispered to him and feel my hands holding his. Now, I see that I''ve let my cowardice behavior ruin things at last. I took him for granted instead of being brave and taking a chance. Nobody else was preventing me from a chance at true happiness but myself, but now it was too late. He left with regrets and a broken conscience, and there was a good chance that he would want nothing to do with me anymore.

    I could have stopped him if I tried hard enough, but now he was gone- and the worst part was that I''d let him go.

    "I''m sorry, Chan." I whispered through tears as I twisted my fingers in my lap, staring at the front door blankly as though he could hear me somehow, "I broke my promise."

 make it right

    Chandler

    "You kissed him?!" Samuel''s loud voice boomed through the caf��, causing the poor people surrounding us to turn their heads in confusion and annoyance.

    "Can you please be quiet?" I hissed, hiding my face in my hands out of embarrassment as the table of girls behind us giggled, already whispering and snickering to each other. "Yes, I kissed him. I know, I''m so damn stupid."

    "Yes, you are extremely stupid." My brother cackled, throwing his head back before attempting to contain his laughter. "I really didn''t expect to hear this when you asked me to meet you here today. I got to hand it to you, man, I didn''t think you had the balls."

    "Can you not make fun of me at a time like this, please? Act like the big brother you are and give me some well-needed advice. I''m going crazy here, Sam." I peeked at him through my fingers, and I finally saw the smile slip off of his amused face. Finally, he was starting to take this seriously. A little bit, at least.

    "Shit, you''re really worried about this, aren''t you?" His kind eyes were slightly narrowed, brows furrowing in concern. It made my heart drop even more, causing me to groan exasperatedly. The last thing I wanted right now was pity; I felt crappy enough as it was. Even through the thick haze of confusion and insanity that had overcome me, I knew for certain that I was the one in the wrong and the least deserving of any sugar-coated compassion. "Well, from what you told me, it seems like Henry was pretty caught off guard. He has every right to be- I mean, imagine fighting with your best friend one second and he''s kissing you the next. That''s surprising, to say the least."

    I nodded slowly, waiting for him to continue. "You overstepped a boundary that he''s probably assumed to be set in stone ever since you guys met. It''s perfectly normal that he reacted the way he did. To be honest, you''re lucky he didn''t smack you across the face."

    "I know I shouldn''t have just kissed him like that, but I wasn''t thinking straight. All I could keep thinking of was that asshole touching him. It was reckless and selfish, but I don''t know what I can do to fix things. I could barely even look at him without breaking down in tears like a fucking baby."

    "This is tough...I''ve never been in your boat before but I do know that apologizing can go a long way as a start." Sam''s onyx eyes fell down to where his hands cradled a porcelain coffee mug before continuing, "You know, you could''ve told me how you were feeling sooner. If you had someone to talk to about it, you wouldn''t have been so miserable. However, you and Henry have been best friends for almost ten years now. I truly don''t think this will have ruined everything."

    "Then, what should I do?" I rubbed a hand over my face, the stress sinking into my bones and making me impossibly more desperate. Telling my older brother that I kissed my best friend- who happened to be a guy, wasn''t easy. I thought I''d always been straight; I dated girls and even brought a couple of them home to meet my parents. This wasn''t anything I''d ever felt with any other guy before, so I never thought twice about it- even when Sam joked about Henry being in love with me and us being a ''cute dynamic duo'' when we were younger. I was a nervous wreck the whole ride to the caf��, but I should''ve known what his reaction would be. Sam had looked at me wide-eyed and unblinking for about ten seconds before cracking up, throwing his hands up, and slapping me on the shoulder like a father who was congratulating his son for scoring a goal.

    The nerves disappeared completely and were replaced with annoyance as soon as the words ''I told you so!'' left his grinning lips.

    "I mean," Sam paused and rubbed the back of his neck as a cringe pasted itself onto his lips, "considering you kind of just ran out of there this morning, it''s going to be a little awkward." Upon seeing my face fall even more and registering the disgruntled whine I let out as my forehead dropped to the tabletop, he quickly corrected his tone, "Don''t worry, though! You can do this, Chan! Come on, the guy loves you like family- he''ll hear you out."

    Seeing me immediately snap my head up and grimace at the uncomfortable thought of Henry seeing me as a brother after what had just occurred, he sheepishly blurted, "Sorry! Poor choice of words..." He allowed himself to chuckle but spoke again when I raised a hand to slap him hard on the arm, "Seriously, though. Talk to him."

    "You think so?" Suddenly, I felt five years old again. Sam''s warm hand rested on the crown of my head and tousled the hair there comfortingly. I was so vulnerable, which was something I always hated feeling more than anything. I grew up keeping a strong, happy fa?ade up at all times, even if it didn''t mirror how I felt inside. Henry was always the one who could see through it, no matter what. Yet, at this moment I couldn''t find myself caring about just how pathetic I looked. I surely looked like a kicked puppy, but it reflected how I felt inside. For once, I couldn''t care less about trying to cover up my true emotions.

    "Yes, I really do. You need to tell him everything- how you''ve been feeling different ever since the accident. It doesn''t matter if it makes no sense right now, just tell him what''s going on inside that head of yours. Who knows, maybe he''ll finally confess his undying love for you." Sam winked, causing me to roll my eyes as his joking nature returned once again. My cheeks burned hot but it wasn''t due to the warmth blasting through the heating vent above us. Just the thought of Henry professing a shared desire for me was too much to handle.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    "Shut up." I shoved his hand off of my head and gulped down the rest of my coffee even though it did nothing to wake my exhausted, sleep-deprived body and left my throat scorched in the end.

    "Hey, never say never. Looks like the straightest guy ever bumped his head and woke up gay for his best friend." I choked on the steaming beverage as Sam chuckled at his own joke, moving to grab some tissues to aid me in cleaning up the coffee I''d partially spilled onto the table.

    "Fuck You." I scoffed, hastily wiping my mouth while attempting to tame the raging crimson staining my cheeks.

    This is going to be a long day.

    ???

    As I walked through the door of my apartment for the first time in months, I felt odd in a way that was hard to fully understand. It had been so long since I was somewhere where I was completely and utterly alone. At the hospital, there was a seemingly endless stream of nurses, physical therapists, and doctors coming in and out of the room every couple of hours. At Henry''s place, I was alone while he was at work but once he returned, I was comforted by his warm presence once again.

    I was so used to being surrounded the subtle sweet scent in every corner of his small home. His belongings were so him, and they were neatly scattered everywhere. It served as a constant reminder of where I was, an extension of comfort no matter where I went. His warmth seeped into my skin when he was even relatively near, like an aura emitting more light than even the sun could give off. Now, there was nobody here other than myself- whom I currently wanted nothing to do with quite frankly. I wished so badly that I could step outside of my body and slap myself across the face. I hated myself for being a coward and running away when I should have just stood my ground and tried to explain things maturely like the adult that I am- or should be acting like.

    I ran away from my problems in search of an immediate release from the fear and stress but made the situation worse by doing so. This was all so new; I was never one to run away easily. Now, it was like running was the only thing I knew how to do anymore. I was sprinting down the never-ending hallway of a house that was on fire. My cowardly demons took the form of sinister flames as they lapped at my skin with unforgiving vigor, taunting me to keep going; to escape as fast as I could before they caught up to me.

    I didn''t want to crash and burn. Knowing you''re doing the wrong thing isn''t easy to admit, but I couldn''t swallow the fear of rejection sitting high in my throat. Sure, I knew I needed to sit down with Henry and talk things through if he would listen. I needed to somehow try and make him understand what was going on with me even if I didn''t know that much myself.

    As I sat down on my cold, suddenly unfamiliar couch, I let my mind wander. I tried to gain a bit of confidence and remind myself of who I am- that the old Chandler is still in there somewhere. Yet, the dark thoughts spiraled around me like a dozen haunting spirits.

    What if Henry doesn''t care that I left? He''s probably relieved now. Even worse, what if he''s with him?

    What if it''s better this way- with me keeping my distance? I can''t hurt him if I''m not there to make more reckless mistakes. What if he''s happier without me?

    "No," I shook my head, hands pulling at my hair until my scalp started to ache under the dull pressure.

    I stood up abruptly, pacing back and forth in the family room until I finally decided to call it a day at last. My mind was working in overdrive, and the frigid twilight air was making my skin prick with goosebumps.

    The only way to silence these thoughts were with sleep. As I shucked my shirt off and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, I remembered just how desperately I''d fought to wake up just a month ago. Now, all I wanted to do was fall back into the abyss of slumber. If I wasn''t awake, these thoughts would suffocate. They wouldn''t have my fear to feed off of anymore and I wouldn''t have to fight them any longer. As I lay my head on the cold pillow that felt much too firm in comparison to the one I''d been sleeping on at Henry''s, I forced my eyes to shut.

    I knew what I needed to do. Even if all of my sinister and self-deprecating thoughts were accurate- even if he would be better off without me, I had to give it one last shot.

    As I entered a fitful sleep, my mind apparently decided it lacked the power to silence the voices snickering at me from deep in my subconscious and put an end to this suffering. In and out of hellscapes straight out of my worst childhood nightmares, I swam through relentless waves of burning crimson seas and traversed icy tundras towards a single beacon of light was always, without fail, Henry. Being pushed to my physical limits, my dreams forced me to save him again and again from horrible beasts and inevitable death.

    It could probably be analyzed philosophically as a reflection of how I had to dig deep within myself and rescue the Chandler Lee that I used to be proud of and pull his drowning body to the surface. I couldn''t let my own actions hurt me anymore, and I won''t let them hurt Henry. Even if I drowned, I wouldn''t let him go down with me.

    Even though it scared the hell out of me, I knew I had to do it. If he chose to never see me again, then I''d disappear like I never existed in the first place. I decided that I''d let him live his life exactly how he wishes, even if that meant that I''m no longer a part of it. I had to give it one last try, for my sake and his; so that even if I couldn''t have him in my life as something more, I could cherish and take care of him as my best friend again.

    I had to do everything possible to make it right.