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WHEN I REACH CONSCIOUSNESS, I am instantly hit with an excruciating amount of pain. My head is pounding and the ache is so deep it's like it burrowed it's way inside of my bones. I don't even want to try to open my eyes, because I know being exposed to light will only make the pain worse. But after a few seconds, I do anyways to take in my surroundings.

My breath is shaky and when I inhale, that unexplainable hospital smell floods my senses. I feel the IV'S jammed into my skin and hear the distant wail of someone crying and that annoying beep of whatever machine I'm tied up to. And, despite all of this, despite the fact that I am in a hospital and I was in without a doubt the scariest encounter of my life who knows how long ago, I am grateful. Being here means that I survived, that I got out of that car. I don't know how, but I am glad, even if I do have to bare with the insufferable pain in my head, a bruised elbow, and God knows what else.

Instantly my heart drops as I think of Luke and then I want to see him and I need to see him and I can't stop wondering if he's okay. He has to be.

I turn my head and push up on my hands in a frantic attempt to get off of the bed and call someone to find him, and then the need to completely disappears. When I turn I see him, cramped inside a chair much too small for him and his inhumanly long legs.

Luke's hair is matted against his forehead and his lips are parted; quiet, almost inaudible snores coming from his mouth. He too is dressed in a hospital gown, and he is hugging himself, no doubt in an attempt to try and make himself fit in the chair. Or maybe it's to keep himself warm, since hospitals always seemed to have the air conditioner blasting. I smile in relief and reach for one of the pillows behind me before I throw it at him, trying to wake him up.

"I know I'm not supposed to be in here leave me al-" He groans in a tired, angry voice and then jumps up and runs a hand through his hair before his electric blue eyes land on me. Luke breaks out into a grin and quickly crosses the few short steps to get to me, completely engulfing me in a hug. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, Cohen, I-"

"It's okay, Luke, I'm fine." I mumble, words muffled by his shoulder. I hug him back tightly and find solace in the fact that he still smells like himself, and not the hospital or sickness or cleaning products or any of the other notable hospital scents. He was still Luke. My Luke. "My head hurts like a bitch." I groan, lips falling into a pout.

He laughs and shakes his head, relief clear in every one of his features. Luke brushes hair out of my face and bites his lip, exhaling heavily. "But you're okay. I really thought you weren't. It's just, you didn't wake up and you lost so much blood and I-I thought I killed you, Cohen." His voice cracks and I shake my head profusely, trying to reassure him of the fact that I was very much here and alive.

"We're a little scratched up but we're both alive and everything is okay, alright?" I insist, tightening my grip on his hands. His hands --more specifically his knuckles-- were bandaged, and I assumed that that was because he had punched through the window several times. I was unconscious, so I didn't know whether or not he actually broke through, but, judging by the bandages, I thought so. "Did anything happen to Lucy or Calum?"

"No, they're fine. Lucy wanted to leave early since we left, so that's why they were on the road too. They were fighting because Calum brought up the trial and his testimony against John and Lu hates to hear about it so they were yelling at each other and I guess neither of us were paying attention." Luke sighs, looking angry with himself. "After you passed out I kept trying to break through the glass and I got it eventually and pulled you out. Calum dove in and helped me get you back to the shore and to the hospital and you've been unconscious for the past thirty hours or so. I kept trying to come in every time the nurses left me alone even though they kept yelling at me for sleeping in that chair."

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