XLIX

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~Tuesday, May 17th~

"Hold me closer, tiny dancer..."

"Count the headlights on the highway..."

"Lay me down in sheets of linen..."

"You had a busy day today..." I sing in the softest voice possible. One of my hands supports my head with my elbow on the arm of the chair as the other holds Noah's, gently playing with his fingers. "I promise not to tell you to shut up if you wake up and sing that for me now," I say with a soft smile.

"You know Noah, you really scared me the other day," I say after a moment of thinking. "I thought I lost you. But your aunt was right, you're a fighter."

"It was still scary though. I don't know how I would have ever recovered. I know I wouldn't be able to do Giselle. Even though it's all I've ever wanted. I don't know if I'd be able to go to Festival Ballet either, honestly."

"My dream is getting close, Noah, but it's not my dream if you aren't there with me." I swallow back tears - something I've gotten used to doing these past few days.

I let go of Noah's hand and sit up in the chair, reaching for my phone to check the time. I've been at the hospital for a little over an hour now, having come straight from school. After explaining the situation to Miss Marie, I was excused from dance classes to visit Noah. As much as I know I need to keep up my strength and endurance more now than ever with a week and a half until the show, I also know that I'd regret my decision if I didn't spend as much time as possible keeping Noah company. Miss Marie knows that I prioritize class, and that I wouldn't miss it if I didn't think it was entirely necessary.

I cover a yawn with my hand, then glance back over to Noah. I scan his face for any sign of change, and find the exact same expression I've been staring at the past few days. He doesn't quite look calm and happy, but he doesn't look like he's uncomfortable or in pain, and I'm satisfied with that.

I look back down at his hand closest to mine, but before I can fully reach for it, I freeze.

I blink my eyes forcefully. Obviously I'm starting to see things, the exhaustion must really be getting to me. Still, the hopeful side of me stays frozen, eyes trained on his fingertips.

It happens again.

His fingers twitch.

"Noah?" I say softly, looking back up to his face, though it is still unchanged. Now that I'm pretty sure I'm not imagining his moving, I let my hand find his again. I stare at his face as I wait to feel any kind of movement.

And there it is.

He squeezes my hand. Slight and weak as it may be, he does. I press the call button on his bed with no hesitation. Without letting go of his hand I stand out of the chair to be closer to his head.

"Noah, can you hear me? It's Teresina, I think you're waking up." A nurse opens the door with force, likely worried that his heart has stopped again. Though he calms down when he sees my face and that I'm not panicking. "I think he's waking up!" I tell the nurse.

"I'll go get his doctor," he says, and I'm glad that he believes my statement rather than passing me off as delusional. I really hope I'm not delusional.

"Noah?" I say again, hoping that calling him might somehow help him wake up. With my free hand I brush some of his hair off of his forehead, still being careful of his bandage. His doctor enters the room, along with the nurse who was just here.

"You said he seems to be waking up? Did you notice anything?" His doctor asks.

"His fingers moved and he squeezed my hand a little bit," I explain, again hoping that I didn't imagine it. I really don't want to look like I'm going crazy in front of Noah's doctor.

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