Hospital Beds ➸ LeafyCynical

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Luckily, Niall  had a pulse. Or we wouldn't have a story to tell.

Well, maybe he isn't that lucky.

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It's really bright here.

I don't know if I like it. White, bright lights don't always bother me. Considering, though, that this is in my face... well, fuck off. When I open my eyes, and stare up at the ceiling, a blankness confronts me. Turning my head, I look for some color. 

There's a few streaks of blue on the wall, like the lad who painted it was colorblind. 

I laugh a little under my breath.

Then realize I don't know where the fuck I am.

None of this is how things are supposed to be. I'm supposed to be home, in bed. In the morning I get pulled out of bed by my two faggots of roomies, Roman and Martin. The fag duo. Then we make our videos, and I go back to bed.

Not only am I in a fucking hospital room, I realize, but I feel hungover. 

And there is no feeling in my legs. Sitting up slowly, I try to get up on off of the bed. There's an IV in my wrist. Fuck, I hate these things so much. I try so fucking hard to move my damn legs. Not even a twitch.

Nothing.

Panic rushes through me. I open my mouth to call out to somebody, but the boy sitting across from me raises his voice first. 

"Wow. That's the first you've moved in two days." There's another lad lying in a bed across from me. We both face each other, and I wonder how I didn't notice him first. He looks about as pale as the walls, with prominent bags under his eyes, and a fierce scowl. His eyes scream "sarcastic asshole" and I'm pretty sure that hair of his is worse than the Biebs. 

So maybe we'll get along.

"Where-"

Wow, that voice crack. He doesn't cringe, surprisingly, but I sure do. I just want to know how long it's been since I uttered a single fucking word. 

Right, right. The guy said two days. That's not too long. 

Two days since...?

I can't remember.

Fucking hell, mate.

"Before you ask, and they all do, yeah I was watching you sleep. Because you are literally fucking facing me. Where else am I going to look? The boring ass ceiling? No, dude," he says. I was definitely right about him being a sarcastic fuck. 

"Anywhere else," I say weakly, and he snickers. What the fuck is going on? I try to get up again. Nothing is fucking cooperating. I'm sure, though, in a few damn seconds everything will work out. Then he fucking says more, and it completely ruins my mindset.

"As you've probably already guessed, you can't walk, or function. Legs? Bye bye." My eyes widen. Is he legitimately enjoying this?