My Only One

Vic's POV

We'd been at the hospital for an hour before Justin's mother had found us, and explained the news.

Justin had a stroke, which meant the blood clot was bigger than originally thought. His mother informed us that the doctors said he was experiencing some memory loss as well, so they had told her to go home and rest while they did some tests. She had agreed to this, less than willingly, and left with only am explanation and a simple "goodnight, boys".

Although I was worried for the shocked woman, nothing compared to the worry I felt for Kellin.

He'd been sitting in the same position for at least an hour now, Indian style and shaking from the chill, silent tears creating wet paths down his scarlet cheeks. I ached to hold him, kiss him, tell him things would be alright, but I'd yet to find the strength. I feared the smallest touch could crack him and send him off on a mental break.

So I sat beside him, silent with my hands in my lap, glancing at the time every now and then. Doctors would come and go, and Kellin would ask them about Justin and if he could see him yet, and they'd give an apologetic smile, saying the same thing,

"Soon."

But nothing came soon.

I glanced down at my phone, fluorescent numbers proudly broadcasting 3:37 AM, and nurses were beginning to suggest we leave, and my eyes were growing heavy. But Kellin would shake his head every time, assuring them that he was okay and that he just needed to see Justin. I'd even heard him whisper a few prayers as he wrapped his jacket tighter around himself, far too alert eyes darting to the clock and then to the hallway he knew Justin was down.

And finally, for the first time in hours, at 3:50 AM he spoke to me.

"Do you believe in God, Vic?"

He glanced over at me, twiddling his thumbs in a sheepish manner. The way his eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks near abused, the broken sound to his voice: it all made my chest ache for him, so of course I answered with what he needed to hear.

"Of course I do."

And it wasn't necessarily a lie. I believed in God, I just didn't care enough to think about it, really.

Kellin hummed, his gaze flickering to the floor. "Do you believe in praying?"

I bit my lip. Yes, I'd sent my fair share of prayers up at the sky in times of worry and need. Had they been answered? Besides the occasional "oh please, God, don't let me be caught", not really. But still I nodded.

"It's okay if you don't." He replied quietly as he shrugged. "But even so, could you say a quick prayer? For Justin? I just, I don't know what to do I mean-"

"Kellin," I breathed, gently taking his hand in my own and stifling a frown when he flinched. "It's okay. I get it."

"Okay." His eyes screwed shut, he squeezed my hand in a way that lessened the tension. "Pray with me?"

And although I'd never been a religious person, I don't think anyone has ever prayed as hard as I did with Kellin that night.

-

Kellin's POV

Vic had fallen asleep around five. His head was on my shoulder, and light snores tumbled from his lips. At least those brought a smile to my face.

Although now I was left to my plaguing thoughts, I was actually happy he was sleeping. He had been practically forcing his eyes open since four, and he was still sobering up, so I didn't mind.

But now it was seven, and the morning doctors were buzzing about, smiling and offering 'Good morning's. I'd say I disagreed, though; that it wasn't a good morning, and they'd laugh because they didn't know I was serious.

One lady with a permanent smile had chuckled at Vic before asking who we were waiting to visit. Once I told her Justin, I realized she stopped smiling, and then told me I'd get to see him really soon.

There was that word again, and I'd grown to loathe it.

Several doctors had told me to see the bright side of things the past night. They told me he was lucky to be alive. They told me it could be worse.

And I told them I didn't care. It was still happening to a boy who didn't deserve it, my best friend. Then, they'd simply frown and walk away.

I sighed, situating myself in the cold, metal chairs, careful not to wake up Vic. My fingers gripped the edge of my seat, memories flooding my brain. White walls, disinfectant, and metal chairs. Every hospital was all the same.

I fucking hated hospitals.

They all, being identical everywhere, all held the same damn memories.

I forced myself to think about something else and slipped my hand into Vic's, threading our fingers despite the fact he was sleeping.

"Kellin?"

My eyes shot up to meet the voice, finding a male doctor staring back at me.

"Yes, that's me."

"A 'Justin Hills' would like to see you."