18. colors

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Grayson POV:

Colors.
What are they?
What do they do?

We can't think of a color before we see it. We don't know of it's beauty until we've taken it in and had that feeling that this is something new. Something we will never forget.

All of us know what colors things are. For example, the sky is blue. But have you ever thought that just maybe, we see colors differently? Maybe, my yellow is your blue. My red is your green. Who's colors are the right ones?

Colors are like people. We have our opinions on certain people. We talk about who our favorite celebrity is, who our least favorite person in our friend group is.

We judge people.

But no matter what, only a few people, even out of those close to you, can really see each other. Can see our true colors.

And that's what Y/n sees in me.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

I open my eyes slowly as the light pierces my eyes. Before I can even adjust to the light of this room, I already know where I am.

Seeing what is around me only confirms that.

Store bought cards that say "Get well soon!" on the side table next to me. Flowers in a vase next to them. Balloons tied to the end of my bed.

Wires poking in and out of my skin and monitors beeping.

I wince as the pain in my chest comes back, but then it just goes away, like it was never there. Looking down I see bandages wrapped around me, covering me in a layer of white.

I see doctors walk past my door, carrying charts, helping patients walk, talking and laughing with each other.

I see all of this, but I can't move, speak, or feel anything. All that I can do is watch and listen.

I look up to see the monitor next to me beeping louder and faster than before, yet I don't feel anything happening to me. Funny.

I close my eyes and let the darkness surround me as I blur out the sounds of the hospital.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

"Grayson! Gray!" The voice says.

I'm too tired to open my eyes or listen to what they're saying.

"Please wake up, I miss you and I..." Wait.

I know that voice.

Before I open my eyes I prepare myself for the bright light that I know will cover them when they open.

I squint as I try to focus on what's in front of me. Someone is sitting in a chair near the front of my bed with their head on the edge of it... shaking. Are they okay?

As my senses heighten over time, I realize that they're crying. But who is it? How can I comfort them?

Oh my God.

"E?" I whisper, barely making any noise with my dry throat.

He looks up at me. I watch his tear- filled eyes light up. He beams at me, smiling like I've never seen him smile.

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