Don't Ever Let Go of That Smile

Kellin woke up the next morning to the sound of a phone ringing. Startled, he became aware of his surroundings. Blood. Dried blood and searing pain shooting up his right arm.
DAMN, he thought. He was deeply upset with himself. Almost seven years and then.. Then.. Last night happened. Shit. Last night. He missed the planned visit to see Austin. Did he pass out? He didn't remember falling asleep and he wouldn't have deliberately missed his 7 pm plans. Damn.
The phone still emitting it's horrid, shrill sound, he stood up and answered it.
"Uh, hello?" He said in a groggy voice.
"Kellin? Hello, my name is Doctor Alan Ashby. I'm Austin's doctor. I believe you had an.. Appointment, shall we say, with one of our nurses to discuss Austin's situation yesterday?"
Damn.
"Uh, yes, I'm terribly sorry, something came up and-"
"It's okay. We just wanted to tell you that we have rescheduled for today at twelve o'clock, if that's okay? I know you were meant to speak with a nurse only but I would like to have a word with you also."
"Y-Yes Doctor, t-that's perfect, I'll uh, see you there?"
"Very well. Thank you, Kellin." He hung up.
Okay. Twelve o'clock. What time was it now? He glanced at his watch that was left on his bedside table. Eleven?! He sighed. Good thing he lived within a walking distance from the hospital.
He decided to shower and get ready. He didn't feel like moving, he felt as if there was a weight on his shoulder, or as if he had a magnetic affect on the floor. It seemed as if a shower was almost too much of an effort. But he wanted to see Austin so much. Although he was still in his coma, seeing the rising and falling of his chest and the little almost-smile permanently on his face was a gentle reminder that there was hope; that he was still alive.

It was almost twenty minutes later when Kellin actually decided to get off his butt and shower. As he reached in and switched on the water, he became aware of just how painful his wrist actually was. It was still bleeding, he could see. Was it blood though? It was almost like a puss, oozing its way through the cuts. Hmm. It was probably just because he didn't wipe the blood away. A shower should help.

Kellin spent a good fifteen minutes under the hot water, it felt relaxing and soothing. His arm felt better, there was less puss and blood and it looked quite a bit neater. He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around himself, and patted his arm gently with another towel. It stung.
"Shit," he gasped. Blood started pouring out from the wound again, although this time there was notably less blood. Before even getting dressed, he went to the cupboard and found a miniature bandage, wrapped it around the now-clean wound, and secured it with a clasp. There. All better. Now he could forget that it ever happened, no one had to know.
He threw a pop tart into the toaster and ran upstairs to get dressed. When he came down, it had popped up again, and he flopped down on the chair and stared at his pop tart. He suddenly didn't want it. What made him deserve food anyway? After all that he had done? Plus, it was already eleven forty-five, so he grunted and threw it in the bin, walked out the door, slamming it behind him.