Sanders Sides Oneshots

My Love -{Remile}-

A gift for @ali6ce because it was her birthday a while ago! This was also posted on AO3, so don't forget to look for me there.

WARNING: Mentioned car accident, coma, major character death and attempted suicide.

Car accidents are not uncommon. They happen all the time, day after day, across the world. Yet they always seem so distant. So unreal. Car accidents never happen to you because nothing like that happens to you. You're no one special, you're just yourself, living peacefully in a blissful world, ignorant of suffering. So that's why Emile was so scared when he got the call from the hospital. Because people like him don't get calls from the hospital.

"Excuse me," He told his clients, trying to fight back the worry in his voice and seeing the concern on their faces. They were one of his regulars, and their progress in their relationship was nearly complete.

Emile backed away from his desk, answering his phone with a false smile of ease. He could handle a simple call from the hospital. It was probably a wrong number scenario. Because things like this didn't happen to people like him.

"Hello, Dr Emile Picani speaking, how may I help you?" He greeted friendly, shutting the door behind him as he stepped out into the corridor.

"This is Dr Emile Picani speaking, correct?"

The voice was harsh and unfamiliar to his ears. He didn't like it. It sounded like the voice of someone who had learnt to give bad news without remorse. In his opinion, a voice he didn't want to hear.

"Yes, it is," He said. "Is something the matter?"

"A man with your number as his emergency contact has been taken into our care," The voice said bluntly. "He got into a car accident and has entered a coma."

Emile froze and numbly reached behind him for the door handle, hoping to steady himself as his mind jumped to conclusions. Was it a client? Maybe Virgil? Could it be his father or his brother? "What's their identification?" He asked shakily.

"His name is Remy Sanders, as the drivers' licence says-"

The therapist shrieked, clasping a hand over his mouth. His eyes brimmed with tears and he hiccuped as he breathed. No, no, that had to be worse than anyone else. That was the worst option, that couldn't be true. His back thumped against the door as his knees gave way weakly and he choked on the air. Not Remy. Not his beautiful, charming, suave Remy. Remy was untouchable, he always had been. Every fight only left him with some annoyingly hot bruises for Emile to kiss, every fall only prompted a classic pick-up line and every near-death experience was one he could laugh off. It wasn't possible. Remy Sanders didn't do danger. He never did.

"Doctor, I understand that this news may be distressing," The voice relentlessly continued. "But we need to have someone properly identify him. Currently, we are calling any other relatives to see if they can confirm his identity. It is still a possibility that this man is simply an identity thief and this 'Remy' is safe."

That gave Emile a shaky feeling of hope. Of course, that had to be what happened. Because comas and car accidents never happened to people like him. They were for other people, people who never stood a chance, people with interesting lives. Remy just ran a branch of Starbucks and Emile was a relationship therapist. These tragically interesting things never darkened their lives. So it was some terrible mix-up. It wasn't Remy.

"Doctor, is there a time you can make soon in your schedule to confirm this man's identity?"

Emile blinked dumbly, and tears started to fall finally. He had held them back in the shock of it all. "Yes. Yes, I should be there soon. I-I can be there in forty minutes. Wh-where's the hospital?"