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NOTE: Told from Jonny's POV.
I took a deep breath, standing outside the tall brick hospital. I gripped the bag in my hand tighter, slightly nervous. Then I stepped through the revolving door and past the weary looking nurse at the front desk, walking as briskly as I could. My eyes darted around, the bag's contents weighing heavier in my hand. I feared the guilt I felt was scrawled across my face. Fortunately, no one stopped me, and I kept walking, head down, to Chris's room.
When I peered around the door cautiously, I saw he was sitting up, scrawling in a notebook. The cast from his right arm and the bandages on his legs were gone. He was back in his jeans, though I doubted the doctors condoned this, and the bruises on his body had faded to nothing but pale blemishes, reminders of that bloody, horrible night nearly two weeks ago. His ribs were still healing, though, as were the wounds on his chest and his fractured cheekbone.
I stepped in, but he didn't look up. I watched him for a serene moment, studying the easy way his body moved now - such a change from a week ago, when it pained him to even raise his head. The doctors had remarked nearly daily about how impressed they were with his recovery time. He was one of the most determined patients they had seen in a while, I heard them say. The walls of his room were plastered with get-well cards from fans, friends, family, and even some of the nurses who had taken a fancy to Chris. I smiled as I saw the huge bunches of flowers sitting on his nightstand. No wonder he was recovering so quickly. He had an army of fans to get well for.
"Chris, mate," I said gently. He glanced up from his notebook quickly, his eyes resting on me. I remembered how dull and pained they had been a week ago. Now they were bright and lively again, dancing with laughter and cheer.
"Hey, Jon!" He smiled wide. His split lip had healed as well. I remembered a month ago: I had taken all of his beauty for granted. I had watched his chest rise and fall with even breath on misty mornings and was not amazed by just the fact that his heart was beating. His existence hadn't seemed a miracle to me. But that was then. Now, just seeing his eyebrows waggle at me mockingly, or to watch him yawn or laugh or clap his hands or even flash his middle finger at me... It gave me an intense feeling of gratefulness to whatever God was up there in heaven. Every minute in Chris' company was more than I could have ever hoped for.
I smiled and pulled up a chair beside his bed, inching forward until my knees were pressed against the metal frame. Chris reached over and ruffled my hair, and for an instant I was afraid my heart would burst with love. It swelled in my chest and my smile widened and my eyes stung with tears, and before I could stop myself I trapped Chris's hand with my own and pressed a gentle kiss to the soft skin of his palm. He grinned knowingly at me and stroked my jaw line with his thumb, and I nearly shivered.
"How are you feeling?" I asked softly.
He mulled this over a minute, chewing his lip. "I'd have to say I'm better than I was last week."
"That doesn't really answer my question."
"Oh, doesn't it?"
"How were you last week?"
Chris gave me a sarcastic look. "How do you *think* I was last week?"
I glanced at the floor. He had a point.
"Either way..." He smiled at me. "I'm pretty damn good."
"Glad to hear it."
Chris shrugged, still smiling softly.
"So we canceled the rest of the tour," I said, watching his face for the reaction.
The smiled dropped quickly and his brows furrowed. "Oh, the bloody tour! I forgot!"
I shook my head, laughing. "Don't worry; I don't blame you. Guy and Will were relieved."
He propped his chin in his hand, brows still drawn together. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I nodded. "They were worried. You should have seen Guy. He was pacing a hole in the floor. I thought the nurse was gonna hit him."
Chris laughed a little, playing with the hospital bracelet on his wrist. "That's so like him."
I nodded again. There was an awkward lull. "I was worried too," I said quickly. I nearly kicked myself in the head. Stupid! I was so insensitive.
Chris glanced at me, smirking. "I know."
I remembered suddenly what was in the bag. "I got a present for you," I laughed. Chris blinked. I reached into the bag and pulled out a pint of chocolate ice cream. It had melted slightly, but it was still good. Chris's face lit with a devious grin. "You know you're not allowed to bring food!"
"Oh, I know," I said casually, fishing out a plastic spoon from the bottom of the bag. I handed both to Chris, who was giggling helplessly. He took the carton of ice cream with both hands like a child and tugged the lid off, then took a small spoonful, savoring it. "Mmm," he murmured, eyes slipping shut in ecstasy. "It's been so long since I last tasted real food...!"
I couldn't help but laugh at his blissful expression. The white walls of the hospital disappeared and I remembered once, nearly four years ago when we had first met, we were sitting on the damp sand of the beach on a windy, wet day. Chris's jeans were rolled up to the knees and his shirt was half-buried in the sand. He was lying on his back, his rich curls spilling over his rosy face.
"Don't you wish that it could last forever?" he asked me, softly.
I glanced at him, and his vulnerable, innocent smile tugged my heartstrings. I lay down beside him in the cool sand, the wet wind brushing over us like an invisible blanket. "Of course I do," I breathed. "All the time."
All the time... when I'm with you. Everything is all right again. Everything is relative. Everything revolves around you.
I blinked and it disappeared as Chris called my name. "Jon!" He was holding out a spoonful of ice cream to me, grinning cheekily. "Hurry up, it's gonna fall off into your lap."
I blinked in surprise.
"You gonna stare at it all day or what?" he laughed.
I made a face at him, then leaned forward to take the spoon in my mouth, feeling like a blushing schoolgirl. I swallowed the ice cream quickly and it chilled the back of my throat. When I glanced up at Chris, he was watching me with something in his eyes that made me shiver giddily. My face was hot.
He attacked the ice cream again with gusto, and a few drops fell from the spoon onto the back of his hand. He made a tiny distressed sound, then licked them off reverently. I watched him with raised eyebrows, shifting in my seat.
Chris stuck the spoon back in the half-melted ice cream and looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. "Come sit with me. I'm lonely."
I couldn't refuse. Though I did feel a bit foolish, hopping up on the bed and squirming around until we both could fit onto the narrow little bed. When we had settled in, he laid his head on my shoulder like a tired child. They shaved the back of his head to give him sutures, I realized as I saw the mismatched fuzz on his scalp. My heart twisted again, and an image of him, broken and bloodied and crying out for me, flashed through my mind. I draped an arm over his skinny shoulders and hugged him close.
"The doctor's saying you'll be out soon." I knew he knew this. I was saying it to reassure myself, mostly.
Chris nodded, his head still pillowed on my chest. "Thanks for the ice cream, mate. You don't know how much it means to me."
I smiled down at him and he took another mouthful of the melting chocolate. His tongue wasn't quite quick enough though, and a few stray drops dropped from the spoon onto his chin. He laughed and wiped them away.
I watched his tongue dart out to clean his lower lip, and suddenly I realized getting up on this bed with a half-dressed and rather cuddly Chris was quite a bad idea. Especially when he had a pint of ice cream balanced between his thighs and he was getting it everywhere.
I imagined taking a spoonful of it into my mouth, then leaning over and kissing him deep, the chocolate and the taste of our tongues mixing. I imagined dripping it onto his chest and lapping it up softly, lovingly. I imagined trailing my cold tongue down his pale stomach, nuzzling the baby-soft skin beneath his navel.
My mind stopped working and I sighed and turned my eyes heavenward. Why me? Why did I have to fall in love with my best friend? I mean, it made perfect sense in a rather odd way. He was perfect. He was beautiful and intelligent and interesting and loyal and adorable. But he was also quite male, and I was also quite straight. So why, then? Was it just my mind playing tricks on me?
I glanced at him discreetly. He was licking the spoon clean, his face still utterly blissful.
No... There was no way it could have been a trick. It was real. I could feel it. I felt for him more than I had ever felt for anyone in my life.
So now I had two immediate options. I could sit still and try really hard not to embarrass myself in front of Chris with an undue show of affection, or I could leave now, save myself embarrassment, but feel lonely and empty all day without Chris's bright smile.
Chris leaned back a little to offer me a spoon heaped high with ice cream. I grinned slightly, wrapped my hand around his, and took his offer.
I would be staying here for a while.