"Are you immediate family?" the desk lady asked me. I wrinkled my nose, "Um...no." She gave me an expression that said, then what are you doing hear, idiot? I sighed and pulled at my hair, pacing back and forth in front of her desk, my breath coming out unevenly. I spun towards her, "I'm his girlfriend. Can I go? Please? Now?" She rose an eyebrow at me and nodded slowly, telling me his floor and room number, most likely more for my sanity than because she was actually allowed to admit me to his room because I was his girlfriend. Which I wasn't. I probably looked like a total psycho, and I made a mental note to look more sane when I exited the hospital so that she wouldn't make a call to send me to the loony bin.
"Nick?" I practically screamed as I threw the door of his room open. The nurse immediately shushed me, stepping in front of me so that all I could see of Nick's slight shift in bed at the the sound of my voice was his feet moving slightly."Who are you?" she asked in a whisper. I blinked, "Remi." She rolled her eyes, "Nice to meet you, Remi. How are you related to Nick?" I laughed nervously, "Oh, um, right. I'm his girlfriend." Liar. The nurse, a petite African-American woman who looked like she would ordinarily be nice but was running on very little sleep and was short on patience, rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and kept them there as she said to me, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Miss." I didn't skip a beat. Well, my heart did. Quite a few, actually. I wouldn't be surprised if I had a heart attack right then and there. "The woman, at the bottom-I mean, um, the woman downstairs, behind-at the front door-I mean desk. Um, yea. She said I could come up here." The nurse closed her eyes and said, "I'm going to step out for a minute. You can stay, but if you are any sort of a pain to me, you're out. Got it?" I nodded quickly and she slipped out of the room. I hurried to the side of his bed and plopped down in the chair there, taking his hand in mine almost subconsciously. Like, that was kind of the required thing to do for a person who had just ditched school and driven five hours to be with a guy who was in the hospital. He was asleep, and I had never seen him so vulnerable-looking. No doubt, I never would again. His eyes were closed and his mouth was calm upon first glance but, after further inspection, was actually brought down a tiny bit on one side, so that he looked troubled. His white hair splashed out on the pillow behind his head, the only part of him that was still the same, clean. His left eye was purple, right one bluish-green. His nose looked like it had been pushed out of its original position, and now it was somewhat crooked, leaning slightly away from me. His lip was split in the middle, and his chin had a purple bruise, making him look like he had a beard. His forehead had a huge gash mark, dried blood surrounding the almost see-through bandage. And that was only his face. His legs, thank God, were in one piece, and so was his right arm, but his left had a cast. The not-broken arm was covered in blue and purple bruises. No doubt his legs were bruised, too. I was bawling immediately. Unfortunately, I found out Nick was not a deep sleeper. "Wha-what?" he asked, waking up slowly. Automatically, he reached up with the hand that wasn't in mine, the broken one, to rub his eyes, only to wince loudly in pain and put his arm back on the bed. He turned his face to look at me and repeated, "What?" His eyes were tired, narrowed, not quite open. He looked, now, not at his broken arm of the huge bruises on his other one, but at my hand. Or rather, his hand. Our hands. Intertwined. His eyes lingered there, waking up, widening so that they were at the point of a normal person's eyeballs. I watched his face closely and the side of his mouth that had a minute ago been barely noticeably turned down now turned slowly up. Just slightly, but noticeably. My face immediately went beet red, but for some reason, I didn't pull my hand away. His eyes slid up from our hands now, lingering for a moment on my lips, which were parted slightly, willing themselves to say something but failing. His lip turned up slightly more at that and then his eyes made their way up to meet mine. The tiny corner lifted into a full-on half-smile. "Hello," he said, and his voice, as usual, caught me off guard. My pulse raced and I could feel the sweat formulating on my forehead. "Hi," I squeaked, my voice cracking. I immediately covered my mouth with my other hand and wondered if my face had reddened any more in that second. If that were possible. His half smile lifted, and he chuckled slightly under his breath. His smoker's chuckle, though he wasn't a smoker.
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