Midnight ☆ L.H (au)

fifty one

???? - ANASTASIA BYNES

I hadn't moved much in four days.

Not really. I shifted seats when they made me. Took bathroom breaks when I remembered. Connie forced me into a hoodie and clean jeans sometime yesterday, said I looked like a ghost in blood stained denim, but I made sure she didn't wash the old clothes.

They were folded in a plastic bag under my chair. Still damp in spots. Still red in places where the blood had soaked too deep to dry.

Luke's blood.

I couldn't bring myself to throw them out.

His jacket was still draped over the edge of my bag, like if I held onto enough pieces of him, it would somehow make it easier to believe he'd come back whole. Like muscle memory worked in reverse, if I remember him, he remembers himself.

I sat curled in one of those too hard hospital waiting room chairs just outside the ICU, my feet pulled up underneath me, arms wrapped tight around my knees. My hair was pulled back into a messy bun, but I knew it still smelled like antiseptic and something darker. Something metallic.

No amount of dry shampoo in the world was fixing that.

Calum stood in front of me, arms crossed, trying not to look like he was losing patience, but the bags under his eyes gave him away. His hoodie looked like he hadn't changed either. His voice was soft, but there was that familiar edge underneath it, the one that meant he was trying to keep from snapping.

"You need to go home," he said again. "Just for a few hours. Get some air. Sleep in a real bed."

I didn't answer.

"Annie." His tone shifted. "It's been days."

I blinked slowly, eyes never leaving the ICU doors.

"I know."

He let out a long sigh and ran a hand down his face. "You look like hell."

"Thanks," I said quietly, not even a little amused.

He sat down next to me, leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked down at the floor for a while before speaking again.

"You're not helping him by killing yourself waiting in this hallway."

"I'm not leaving," I said, sharper now. "What if he wakes up and no one's here? What if he-"

"He's sedated," Calum cut in, turning toward me. "They said he might not wake up for awhile. His body's still recovering. The machines are doing most of the work."

"That doesn't mean he's not there."

Calum looked at me for a long second, like he wanted to argue. But then he just nodded, quiet, resigned.

"You're just like him, you know," he murmured. "Stubborn as hell."

I didn't smile.

I looked back at the doors, eyes burning, arms curling tighter around my knees.

"He was alone for so long," I whispered. "I don't care how long it takes. I'm not going to let him wake up and think he still is."

Calum didn't answer that. He just reached down, picked up the plastic bag with the bloody clothes in it, and held it for a moment. Then, without a word, he slid it closer to me and stood.

"I'll bring coffee."

I nodded, barely.

He paused before walking away, then quietly added, "You should eat something."