chapter twenty.
michael's pov
"c'mon, michael. you gotta wake up," calum whispered. i didn't want to leave my bed. it was warm. it was easy to decide not to wake up. i wanted to answer with "just let me sleep in," but i couldn't push myself to.
it felt like every other day. why wouldn't it be? it was just another day when i had to get up and trudge to my classes and then go home again and take a nap after talking to angela for a while. that's how every day went, except today it felt different.
this blanket felt odd. it wasn't my normal, soft comforter for sure. whis was a rough knit blanket, kind of like the one calum kept on the top bunk with him. he must've put it over me, like he usually did when he came home to find me asleep. i guess i'd fallen asleep playing calum's fifa game, knowing he'd be mad for messing up his score...or however that game went; i wasn't a huge soccer fan.
"please, mikey. angela wants you to wake up, we all do," he whispered. well, i guess i should, if she really wants me to.
i lifted my hands to wipe sleep from my eyes and yawned...except my hands didn't move and a yawn didn't emerge. no "let me sleep in" was stifled. what was going on?
there were a few footsteps and whispers exchanged. i couldn't tell what was being said, but the quiet disturbed me quite a bit. i seemed on the verge of panic before i finally settled down. i remembered that this is how i woke up (yet didn't wake up) everyday. it's like i was sleeping during the coma. every day i woke up and recalled events that happened before she was gone.
she's safe, i'm not. i'm dying. i have a hole in my chest. i am fucking dying and i couldn't wake up to say goodbye to them all.
a familiar sound echoed-the scooting of the chair legs across the floor. they sounded exactly like the desk chair in our dorm, that was probably why i was mistaken. "hey, michael..." luke mumbled. no, not luke. he's going to cry. i miss luke. i miss them all. i would cry an ocean just to wake up.
and right i was. luke began crying, but i was unaware if he had been before. his teardrops landed on my arm. they sent shivers down my spine. all i could think was: damn, it's cold in this gown. "i can't believe you're like this," said luke quietly. luke was normally a quiet one. it was odd that he was this quiet, though. if he is normally quiet, then what he sounded like now was nothing. legitimately nothing. "why did you do this?" he asked in a desperate, begging tone. why did i do what? save her? that surely wasn't what he was asking.
"you're supposed to be okay. you were supposed to come back okay, remember?" suddenly, i did remember. i remembered luke's text. well make sure you don't get hurt. if you get hurt then i'll come after them myself :---) shoot some dicks off for me. i knew luke couldn't and wouldn't kill anyone. that's why he wanted me to come back safe. i wanted to laugh at him...and then tell him he didn't have to commit murder for me. "michael, i am going to kill those fuckin' idiots. they took one of my best friends for over a whole month and then they took another ones life." the urge to laugh occurred once again. he would never do such a thing.
luke soon began to mumble to himself, but then he stopped. a young-sounding nurse came in and asked him politely to move so that she could change my iv. "how much longer is he going to be in the coma? it's been two days," ashton asked as his footfalls neared us, sounding impatient towards the kind nurse who gently removed the needle from my arm, rather than yanking it out like my last nurse.
the nurse cleared her throat. "nobody can tell, not even the doctors. mike's coma is only part medically-induced. we can't be sure of when or if he wakes up," she explained. i could almost hear luke and ashton cringe with tears when she said if. if. there was no if. i was not going to stay in a hospital bed for the remainder of my life. i was waking up.
