Cornley Chaos

Trevor, pressing his hands to Chris' shoulder, his first aid training coming back to him in flashes. Put pressure on the wound. Blood seeps through his fingers, Chris' blood, and it takes everything in him not to let the tears fall.

Trevor, sitting in the hospital waiting room. He's washed his hands countless times, but he can't get the image of bloodied hands out of his mind. He tries to be rational but finds it impossible as his mind keeps going back to the end of the Drama Festival. The loud noise, the way Chris instantly went down, his face, white as a sheet, as the realisation of what had happened caught up to him. Chris' trembling hand on Trevor's shoulder, briefly, before his eyes closed and he went completely limp.

Trevor, sitting next to a loudly beeping machine, elbows resting on his knees, bags under his eyes. He can't close them, whenever he does he's faced with Chris, white as a sheet, staring up at him with fear in his eyes, so he forces them to stay open. He watches Chris, lying in his hospital bed, hooked up to all sorts of machines, and he focuses on his chest rising and falling. The doctors said Chris was stable, but Chris might lose movement in his right arm. Trevor clutches Chris' left hand, and refuses to let go.

Chris, waking up, groggy, disoriented, slowly blinks his eyes open. As he wakes, the first thing he feels is a numb pain in his right shoulder. As the events of the Drama Festival slowly come back to him, the second thing he feels is a warm, calloused hand wrapped around his right. Gently, he turns around to see whose hand it is, even though he already knows. He sees Trevor, curled up in an uncomfortable looking position on a hospital chair pulled right up to this bed. The third thing Chris feels is a smile crossing his face at the sleeping man.

He musters all his energy and gently squeezes Trevor's hand.