fifteen

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Scott Hoying's POV

I DIDN'T KNOW WHICH FLOWERS to get him. I wanted to get him something, I mean, he was stabbed. God, I feel terrible now.

I chose tulips because they didn't seem too pushy or romantic. I didn't want to come off that way. Instead of wearing my typical dark hoodie like always, I put on light blue jeans and a white muscle tee. It was unusual for me since I haven't worn light colored clothes in a long time, so seeing myself like that was weird.

Anyways, I was going to try to ask him on a date, obviously when he's recovered and well again, so when I entered the hospital room I felt nerves bundle up in my stomach and I stood there as he laid in the bed staring at me, my mouth opening and c...

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Anyways, I was going to try to ask him on a date, obviously when he's recovered and well again, so when I entered the hospital room I felt nerves bundle up in my stomach and I stood there as he laid in the bed staring at me, my mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a fish. "Uh," I cleared my throat. "I got you these," I gestured to the tulips in my hands.

"You can set them down near the others."

There was about two other bouquets of flowers on the side table. I set mine down and realized mine were the only purple-ish pink ones. The others were yellow or orange.

I glanced at the cards and one was from "Dad" and the other was from Kirstie, Avi, and Kevin. It was like they expected me to get him some without telling them. Well, they didn't tell me about getting him any, either.

I stopped the mini conversation in my mind and looked at him again. "They're pretty. Thanks," he smiled at me. I pursed my lips. He kept staring at me, then spoke again. "You're wearing white."

"I am. I didn't think that was important," I awkwardly laughed at the end. "It's just nice to see you in happier colors, that's all," he smiled back at me, not seeming to notice the weird laugh. Thank God.  [a/n: me]

"Well thanks, I guess. So, how are you feeling?" I asked, walking a bit closer to him and the hospital bed.

"Oh, you can sit down," he said, gesturing to the chairs. "I don't care and I'm sure they don't either. But I'm feeling fine. It just hurt when it happened."

I sat down on the chair closest to him and nodded, "That's good. I mean, not the fact you hurt—but that you're feeling better. Uh, when are you getting out of here?"

"Probably tomorrow or the next day. Why?" His brown eyes stared into my blue ones and my heartbeat picked up. "Uh, just w-wondering," I said, and I immediately regret it when I realized that was the perfect time to ask. But maybe I should ask another time? I didn't want to seem like I just realized I liked him the moment he was probably going to die. God, Scott, it was one stab. He would've been fine. He was fine. Stop overreacting and man the hell up.

"Scott? You okay? You're kind of spacing out," Mitch rubbed his arm. "Sorry, sorry. I just have been thinking a lot lately."

"About what?"

Only Mitch would've asked me that. Not even Kirstie would have. "Just things," I brushed the subject off easily. He let me, nodding, and we stayed in a comfortable silence as his eyes stayed trained on the wall in front of him and mine on him. Just then, the door opened to reveal a doctor that was around our age and female. "Hello, Mitchell," she smiled at him. He cringed, probably at his real name, why I had no idea, and she looked at me. "Oh, you have a visitor. Well, I just need to check in. You feeling alright? Any abnormal pain?"

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