As It Was

Chandler

"So you could, like, hear everything?" My brother's voice was soft and purely curious, his eyes drifting over to me gently from where he was seated a few feet away from my bed.

"I could only hear things from time to time before I tapped out again. I don't remember much, though." I replied truthfully. I only remember hearing bits and pieces of things while I was unconscious. It sort of all feels like a bad dream.

"Oh?" Sam started, tossing the bright yellow stress ball I'd been given by my physical therapist from his left hand to right, "That's pretty cool, actually. Doc said that's super rare and you didn't respond to any stimulation so we didn't think you were aware of anything. What do you remember?"

I let out a deep breath as I thought, sifting through the few things I knew for a fact I'd heard when I was under, "I remember hearing the doctors and nurses, mainly. I don't really remember the things they said, but it was just a bunch of mumbles for the most part. It's sort of like waking up from a dream; you remember when you first wake up but after a day, you can't recall most of the details."

I paused when he gently threw me the ball, catching it clumsily before speaking again, "I remember always hearing the damn heart rate monitor."

Sam laughed the same way he always did when it was just us two; free, loud and breathy. I didn't try to stop the smile breaking out on my own face as I looked over to the machine hooked up to my left. The constant beeping had annoyed me to such a point that I felt as if I was being punished endlessly. As if being somewhat aware of my surroundings but not being able to respond wasn't torture enough.

I shook my head and turned to stare at the monitor in disdain, thankful that they'd finally taken it off a few days ago so I could sleep peacefully and not be tangled in a mass of wires.

"So," he started again, voice slightly cautious, "You don't remember hearing anything else?" He looked at me with a wondrous glint in his dark eyes, as if he was pushing for something but wouldn't vocalize it.

"I do remember Henry being here a lot." I looked down at my lap where I was twisting my fingers, a funny feeling settling in my gut as I recalled the sound of his voice in my hazy head, a somewhat vague memory but still distinctly him.

My eyes lifted to meet my older brother's similar ones and my brows immediately knitted at the smug look on his face.

"Oh? Little ol' Henry boy, huh?" His voice was thick with tease and absolutely dripping with mirth, "So you don't remember hearing me, mom, or dad; but you remember hearing him?" I rolled my eyes, huffing as he pushed further. I shrugged, not knowing what to say, "I gotta say, I'm a little offended."

Hell, even I didn't know why his voice was the only one I could really remember clearly among the ocean of sounds I was drinking in for those long eight weeks.

"How is he, by the way? I haven't seen him in a couple of weeks." He still had a faint smile on his lips, looking like he was forcing himself to try and wipe it off before I got up from the bed and slapped it right off of his face, "Is he still in love with you?" He childishly giggled, covering his face with both hands and wiggling around in his seat wildly.

"Shut up," I groaned, chucking the stress ball at his head with a surprising burst of strength, only to become disappointed as he managed to catch it just before it socked him right on the cheek, "He's not in love with me." I crossed my arms over my chest and crossed my ankles, already waiting for his stubborn remarks that were sure to come next.

"He so is!" He exclaimed, launching his upper body forward in his chair and slamming a hand down onto my calf, "I'm your big brother, I know these things!"

I laughed unabashed, my eyes nearly closing as I shook my head at his ridiculous words, "Oh yeah? What makes you think that your right about this assumption you've had for the past five years?" I sat up completely, crossing my legs and putting my elbow on my thigh as I settled my chin on my palm, waiting for his response.

We'd been over this a dozen times before. Each time, it got harder and harder to ignore Sam's confident words and brush them off without overthinking.

"To start, you guys have been best friends for, like, a million years? He hasn't left your side- ever." He huffed, seemingly frustrated and grumbling how stupid I am under his breath, "Also, he's never even introduced you to a significant other of his." He pulled his chair closer to me, resting his head on his arm as used the bed as a surface to lean on, "How sketchy is that?"

"Seven years-," I shot back, "and so what? Many people have a best friend that they've had for a long time. What's wrong with him being a loyal one?" I glared at him playfully, jabbing his arm with my finger, "Henry not having a partner doesn't concern you, me, or anyone else. I'm sure he's dated people but just never really told me. You telling me you've introduced every chick you've been with to your closest friends, Sammy?"

"It's not just that! He's so obviously devoted to you that you'd think he was a faithful little puppy and you were his owner. You also know for a fact that he's into dudes, and in case you haven't seen yourself, you're a pretty good looking one." He slapped my leg, shaking for emphasis as if it would knock some sense into me.

"He's always been quiet and reserved. He's different than the other guys we grew up around, and I think he knows that. He's self conscious about it even though he has nothing to be embarrassed about." I started, my voice losing it's joking tone and becoming solemn, "I understand him, which isn't something a lot of people can say- and I'm okay with that." I ignored his comment about Henry being gay. It came up in conversation one day when we were fifteen and I'd been talking about a cute girl in one of my classes. He became all stiff, awkward and uncomfortable for a few minutes before telling me that he wasn't into girls. I didn't judge him then, and I never will.

Henry had always been doing things on his own. Even before we'd properly met, he never had partners for projects in school and didn't talk to other kids save for one boy he used to mingle with during lunch most days that was equally as awkward and shy as him. He never bothered anyone, and it slightly ashamed me that I never went up to him before the day he helped me.

As we got to know each other better, I found that I quite liked being the only one who could say they truly understood the mysterious boy who was Henry Sallow. It wasn't that I was possessive of him, but it felt like, for once, I was special in a way that meant nothing to anybody else. It was a title that wasn't constantly being sought after by my peers; Captain of the soccer team or class representative- being Henry's best and most trusted friend was on the highest level. Of all things everyone was trying to surpass me in, nobody could take that from me.

"You know," Sam wasn't smiling anymore, "He was really messed up the last time I saw him." His voice was quieter, and his eyes cast down to his fingers where he was playing with a loose string on the cuff of his jacket sleeve, "He had dark circles under his eyes and his skin was so pale you could basically see through him. Mom said he didn't sleep or eat. All he did was pretty much stay here and watch you."

I swallowed down the feeling of self-disgust, guilt flooding through me as I leaned back on the headboard again, letting my head loll against the hard white plastic of the hospital bed.

I knew it was my fault that he was in so much pain. If it weren't for the accident, he wouldn't have had to see me get hurt like that- he wouldn't have had to see his best friend lingering an inch away from death. He said he had to look at his biggest fear unraveling in front of him. He thought he was going to lose me for good.

"Hey," Sam tapped my hand where it was resting on my stomach, causing me to look down and meet his warm gaze, "Even if you don't believe me or even if I'm wrong, just don't let him go anytime soon. He's a good friend, and he really loves you, you know."

I felt a small smile pull at my lips and a foreign warmth pool in my stomach as I scratched the back of my neck absentmindedly as a distraction.

"I know," I replied lightly, voice going soft as my mind wandered to a place filled with memories of Henry and I, summer nights, mornings filled with eating leftover take-out for breakfast and everything in between,

"I got his back, too."

I flinched as Sam erupted in a fit of girly squeals, clapping his hands and cooing at me. I rolled my eyes and kicked him lightly, throwing the jumbled duvet that had been covering me at his head, both of us falling into a fit of laughter as it got stuck around his neck when he tried to desperately untangle himself.

All the while, I tried to casually ignore the strange, new feeling of butterflies emerging from their previously tranquil cocoons deep in my stomach as thoughts of a certain someone flitted through my messy mind.