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By the time the redhead woke up again in the hospital bed, there was someone else in the room. The boy was reading a booklet with the help of a small fuzzy flare in his hand, sitting in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs near the window. Next to him was a coffee from a vending machine that had gotten cold hours ago.
"You're gonna strain your eyes, dumbass," he croaked, voice heavy with sleep and lack of use.
"Didn't want to wake you." He closed the book and approached him.
"Wasn't expecting you to come. I thought only family members were allowed to visit?"
He shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first time I lied for you." He sat at the end of the bed. "Who else would've come if not me?"
"Until now? A grand total of zero." He smiled.
The boy didn't return the smile. "You’d promised me you wouldn't end up like this."
That response made him frown. "...Guess I owe you an apology for not listening to you." Dawn was starting to break outside and the sun, blurred by heavy rain clouds, barely illuminated the room through the blinds; the only other light was that of the machines. After sitting up in between a couple pillows, still drowsy from the medication, he began noticing how cold the room felt despite only just being autumn. "Y'know, I hadn't been in a hospital since the time you broke your nose. Fucking sucks, but at least my mom can't bother me here."
"Ez Gwir?" He seemed surprised. "I would've thought with..."
"I didn't feel like coming in with her every time she overdid it, it was enough driving her here." He downplayed it with a wave of this intact arm. "Though you're right, I'm not exactly falling behind."
He nodded, pensive, trying to ignore the last comment. "I never liked them."
"Of course, aren't they full of ghosts?"
"Plenty, but it's more about..." he made a face, "the energy."
The redhead couldn't help but laugh, a weak and dry sound. "You're starting to sound like Ceci."
"Well that's why she was my best friend." He half smiled. "Or so she said, back then."
"The good ol' times..." He stared at the IV on his arm for a moment and his smile fell. "But some things never change, huh? Don't know why I even keep trying if I always screw everything up like this. The car was the only thing I had left and I ruined even that." he hissed, his voice starting to quiver.
"Alan..." he whispered in warning.
"And worse of all, the— the other guy is in intensive care." He kept talking anyway, swallowing the knot in his throat. "And I don't know how to justify the shit I did, or how I'm gonna pay for the bodywork plus the fine, but I gotta go back to work as soon as I'm discharged or they're gonna kick me out for sure—"
"Hey, don't think about that now." He grabbed the redhead's wrist to stop him from scratching at the tape that covered the needle, but pulled back immediately when he realized what he'd done, averting his gaze.
In the following silence, the only thing that could be heard was the hospital personel's steps from the hallway, the buzzing of machines in the adjacent rooms, and some raindrops hitting against the window. The heart monitor showed an unsteady rhythm, counting the seconds out of sync. It was smothering.
"I always regretted not leaving with you," said the redhead suddenly. The boy looked up in confusion when he recognized an unusual tone in him, a sparkle in his eyes. "When you told me to fuck everything and set off on a roadtrip through the region, remember? You got so pissed off cause everyone in the group laughed at us."
"... I wish I didn't remember." He sighed. "It would've destroyed us."
"Wouldn't make much of a difference."
"Maybe not for you, but it would for me."
"Wow, was leaving me that good for you?" It could've been a joke, but the accusation was clear enough.
His expression grew tired, as if he was expecting this from the beginning, his eyebags darkening. "Is that what this is about?"
The redhead seemed ashamed, and tried to shake his head despite the neckbrace hindering his movements. "No, I mean... Look, it—it wasn't my intention but... I just didn't know what to do when you wouldn't answer me." He laughed nervously. "Though I'll admit it wasn't my brightest moment."
The boy kept silent. He couldn't look him in the eyes.
"I'm surprised you hadn't figured it out, I thought you knew me better." he added, trying to alleviate the atmosphere he'd created.
"Too well," he ran a hand through his hair, "don't know why the hell I'm here."
"We both know full well why." He forced a grin closer to a rictus. "After all, that's the only thing I'm good for."
"Do you really still think that?"
"You never gave me a reason to change my mind."
"And you used to say I was the one blowing things out of proportion."
"If you want to remember things that way, that's your problem." He laid back down. For a moment it seemed he had no interest in talking anymore, weighed down by the morphine, his sight unfocused on the ceiling panels, the mold stains dancing in the dim light of dawn. He didn't notice the way the boy had clenched his fists or how his breathing had turned shallower. "I wonder which of us is harder to love nowadays."
"I think we were always pretty even," he replied with resigned disgust.
He chuckled reluctantly. "How romantic, like two peas in a pod."
"Not really," he countered immediately, picking his backpack from the floor, "the five of us were that way."
"Is that why we all hung out?"
"For fun, in our own way. D'am soñj e nikun ken ne gomprenont ket se." He took out a small portable radio from the backpack and set it on the table without calling attention to it. "All that messing around with ouija boards and my research trips, we even made those stupid jackets, but at the end of the day we only wore them to parties." When he turned it on, despite the low volume, it drowned out the sounds of the machines. "The only thing we became experts at was ignoring whatever we didn't like..." He got up again. "But everything has a limit."
"Oh, don't pretend you didn't have fun as well," he argued back, until he saw the boy heading for the door. "Yanny?" he called out. The boy couldn't help but stop. "I'm sorry, I— I didn't mean to say that, I don't wanna make things worse... Please just stay a little longer. I can't keep going like this." His pitch had changed completely, the cynicism replaced by a sincere plea. "I thought Kevin was my friend, despite it all, he was the only one that never left me. A-and well, yeah, he did everything he could, honestly he dealt with my bullshit far longer than I expected but... he didn't really get me. Nobody ever did... Except you." Their eyes met. "I—"
"You don't need me," he cut him off, stressing the last word. "He already told me what happened, and about his daughter."
"Did you really talk with him before me?" He seemed genuinely hurt.
The boy didn't answer. However, he leaned on the open door frame, fidgeting with his bracelet while he considered it. The chatter from the radio in the background was the only thing saving them from another awkward silence. His eyes scanned the room, until they set on an empty space in the middle. He squinted as if he was seeing something. Someone.
He finally turned to the redhead and sighed. "Marteze... I can tell Kevin to help bail you out. But don't ask anything more from me," he muttered before closing the door behind him, without waiting for a reaction.
