885 Days [A Vikklan/Sidemen/Pack Story]

One Day Home

25 August 2017

After some time, almost an hour I believe, the other members of the Pack filtered out of the room and three members of the Sidemen entered. I didn't know who, I wasn't really paying attention, my entire attention was focused on the boy lying in the bed beside me. I didn't touch him other than my hand lying on his, and he still didn't stir. There was no evidence that he was even there other than the steady beat of his heart.

Hearing their heart wrenching gasps as their eyes first found Lachlan was bad enough but their stifled sobs that quickly followed was even worse. None of them were able to get close to the bed, standing back. Ethan let out an angry cry when he came into the room and came very close to slamming his fist into something but he managed to control himself. Two fat tears slipped down my cheeks as my eyes scanned Lachlan's pale face.

I honestly didn't know how I was feeling. I didn't know if I was happy or sad, if I was angry or completely distraught. I should have been celebrating his return but instead I was thinking about everything that the future might bring for us. How long would it be before he could come home? In this state it would be for... what? Weeks? Months? He wasn't even awake yet, so I don't know why I was thinking about him coming home. I needed to think of the now. I needed to think of his first reactions, his realization that he was safe and his first phase of treatment. It was almost selfish to think of him getting better now but it was all I could think of. I didn't want to think of all the awful stuff in between.

Shifting my chair closer to the bed I rested my arm on the mattress beside him, gently trailing my hand up and down his lower arm. His skin was bruised and scared but it was warm, and it meant he was there, he was alive.

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Nothing changed for 12 then 16, then 24 hours. I didn't want to go home but the next day when he was taken off for another surgery the doctor gently convinced me to go home and clean up, have a nap and then come back in eight hours time because that was when he was finally going to be let off some of the medication that would mean he would finally wake up. I agreed, reluctantly. He wasn't expected to wake until the next morning anyway.

Josh drove me and it was on the car ride home that I looked down at my phone for the first time and realised what the date was. My heart did a backflip and I could help but gasp, the tears flowing.

"Josh..." I whispered. "The date, it's- it's Lachy's birthday today. He's 22 today." Josh almost forced the car off the road in surprise, apparently having only just realised this himself.

"Shit." He swore, quietly. "I didn't even realise, I don't think anyone else has either. Do you... do you think we should do anything?" I had to think about it for a while, swallowing.

"No... no, not yet at least. We don't want to overwhelm him when he wakes up. We don't know what sort of reaction he'll have." I said, trying to keep calm. "It's just... it's just the thought I think, knowing that it's his birthday today."

Josh nodded.

"Alright. We won't do anything. Just... clean up and then someone'll take you back this evening. I'm not sure who's going tonight."

I just silently agreed, eyes staring blankly out the window. I hadn't even given it a thought until now, but it made this day even more heavy on my heart. The day after he was rescued, he turned 22.

"Happy birthday Lachy..." I mouthed, tears falling again. "I hoped this day would be a little happier, but I'm just glad you're home."

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He was back in that tiny little room when I returned from home, this time with Jerome. He honestly hadn't wanted to leave Mitch behind but the slightly older boy had insisted, telling him that he would be fine for one damn night. I had driven, despite some concerns from some of the others. I was fine to drive. It was a distraction actually, from that feeling crushing my chest. Lachlan's state seemed unchanged, he hadn't stirred, but there were a couple of less machines and IV's and the clipboard on the end of his bed had slightly less alarming statistics than the first day.