#coma tw

[ tyriq withers, cis man, he/him ] — Seems like you’ve made your way to Grimwood, [ TITAN ‘TIE’ HARGROVE ] - welcome home  You’ve been here for [ SIX ] months?.  Let the record show you’re [ 27 ] years old, and are currently employed at [ GRIMWOOD HIGH SCHOOL (FOOTBALL COACH ].  It’s been told you’re [ STRONG and QUICK-WITTED ] but rumor has it you can also be [ JEALOUS and TOUGH ].  Don’t be surprised if people think of you when they think of [ EARLY MORNING RUNS BEFORE THE SUN RISES AND A COLLECTION OF FOOTBALL TROPHIES COLLECTING DUST IN STORAGE ] or when they hear [ CENTURIES by FALL OUT BOY ].

TW: injury, hospitalization, coma, death mention (very brief)

starter for @georgiaelliot

location: his home at equestrian estates

Life had been a mix of amazing and not so amazing. Abraham felt that things were looking up with his sister, at least on the outside. The earthquake had shaken up the town in more way than one. His relationship with Georgia was blossoming and on the flip side, her mother was in a coma. Abraham did not know what to make of it all.

Abraham was just getting up for chores. His clock was showing six in the morning and he was about to step out of his home to head to the barn when a cop car pulled up to the house. He recognized the officer immediately upon exit and his heart sank. Abraham had thought Diana was in the house, but her vehicle was nowhere to be seen in the driveway and come to think of it, there was no note left for him that she was leaving before he was even awake. He stood there, the officer giving him the news.

They found her, overdosed in the park. He didn't want to believe the news and after consoling him for a little, the officers left and he was on his own. He sent a few text messages to Georgia, unable to see what he was even typing. All he knew was that he needed her to show up at his place. Whenever she could. Right now, Abraham was numb. There was no feeling left in him and he didn't even know how he was going to break the news to his parents. He stared at their in-law suite that was off near the back of the property and began his trek there. The chores would have to wait until the farmhand got there.

He didn't know how much time had passed. Telling his parents was a blur, especially after they broke down. It angered him, wishing they had shown that much compassion for their daughter while she was still alive. Not after. Abraham made it back to his home, making his way inside where he sat down on the couch. He didn't make his coffee. Didn't eat breakfast. He just sat there, staring at the television that was turned off. Abraham didn't even hear the click of the door opening when Georgia arrived.

The nightmare, a relentless loop of agony, was a constant companion to James's sleep. In his mind, Tina was always dying, an image that seared itself behind his eyelids. He saw her fading away, and with the vision came a wave of crushing guilt. He hadn't been close to her, not in the intimate way a husband should be. He felt he had failed her in every way—as a husband, a protector, a friend. The guilt was a heavy cloak, suffocating him with the weight of almost losing her for a reason that remained a maddening mystery.

Every time he tried to grasp the cause, a thick, black fog would descend, obscuring his thoughts. It was as if a dense mist had rolled in, leaving only a fading light and the faint, melancholic ringing of bells. He'd hear the frantic ticking of a clock, a countdown to some unknown calamity, followed by an absolute, terrifying silence. The darkness would rush in, and Tina would be gone.

Like every other morning, he awoke with a sharp jolt, his heart hammering against his ribs. His usual routine was to flee the terror, to pound the pavement until the exhaustion drowned out the echoes of the dream. He'd always check on Tina first, a silent vigil to ensure she was still breathing in the master bedroom they no longer shared. The first time he had reached for her after a nightmare, his touch had startled her awake, and the fear in her eyes had been a new kind of pain. He couldn't bear to risk that again.

But this morning was different. He was too shaken to run away, too paralyzed by the horror of the dream to outpace it. Instead, he found himself drawn toward her, to the one place he had been avoiding. He crept into the master bedroom, the floorboards groaning under his hesitant steps.

He watched her for a moment, bathed in the soft, gray light of dawn. Her chest rose and fell in a steady, peaceful rhythm. Her hair, a beautiful chaos of loose strands, was splayed across the pillow, a gorgeous mess that would later be tamed into her signature messy bun. He moved closer, the distance between them shrinking with each quiet footstep, until he was just an inch away.

A selfish need, a desperate craving for a connection he had long denied himself, overwhelmed him. With a trembling hand, he reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek as he leaned in. He gently placed a kiss on her lips, a silent plea that she wouldn't stir, wouldn't wake up and see the fear and regret etched on his face.

"I love you, Tina," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "I'm so sorry."

James's eyes, usually alight with a sharp, intelligent spark, were dull and heavy-lidded, betraying a profound exhaustion that sleep, even a longer stretch than Tina had managed, seemed utterly incapable of dispelling. A leaden weariness clung to him, seeping into his bones and blurring the edges of his vision. When his gaze finally landed on Rachel, a familiar, comforting presence in the periphery of his shattered world, he attempted to conjure a smile, a mere ghost of his usual charming grin. But the effort was too great, the muscles in his face refusing to cooperate, and his eyelids, weighted by an invisible burden, simply drifted shut. He was so, so tired.

The fatigue wasn't merely physical, though his body ached with a deep, persistent ache that no amount of rest could assuage. It was a mental exhaustion, a profound weariness of the soul that had left him utterly, irrevocably broken. The vibrant, ambitious man he once was had been chipped away, piece by agonizing piece, by an unseen assailant. He felt hollowed out, a mere shell of his former self, adrift in a sea of despair.

Whispers followed them everywhere, a constant, insidious hum that pricked at his already frayed nerves. People, with their insatiable appetite for drama and their cruel, casual judgments, were already dissecting their relationship, turning their private pain into public spectacle. Some, the truly ignorant and heartless, were even placing bets, speculating with detached amusement on the precise moment the divorce papers would be filed. The sheer audacity of their presumption, the callous disregard for the agony he was enduring, ignited a slow, simmering anger deep within him.

A fierce, possessive rage bubbled beneath the surface, a primal instinct that recoiled at the very thought of her leaving him. How dare they assume she would ever be free of him? How dare they suggest such a betrayal? And yet, the bitter irony of his situation was a cruel twist of the knife: he couldn't touch her, not truly. He couldn't offer her the comfort, the affection, the proper love she deserved. A chasm had opened between them, not of distance, but of his own making. He didn't deserve to touch her, didn't deserve her love, not when he was so tainted, so utterly unworthy. The thought was a constant, gnawing torment, a self-inflicted wound that bled endlessly.

He opened his eyes again, forcing them to focus on Rachel, her face a blur of concern. The words, when they finally emerged, were barely a whisper, raw and vulnerable, stripped bare of all pretense. "Rachel," he began, his voice raspy with unspoken pain, "do you think I'm a bad person?"

24 hours had never felt so long.

Or so lonely.

Tina had had visitors but when they had to leave it truly hit. There was nothing like sitting in a room while someone else slept. There was nothing like sitting in a room with someone you desperately wanted to talk to and couldn't.

At some point the weight of it came over her and she fell asleep unwillingly. It had been a real heavy, dreamless sleep, for which Tina was thankful, but cold, hard reality hit just as terribly when she woke up in the sterile, bright room, alone in silence but not in company.

James hadn't woken up yet. She had checked on him multiple times through the first day and through the night. She was growing rather impatient, sick with worry, and fighting horrible vision every time she looked at his sleeping face.

Tina had spoken to him a few times, of course, but it didn't work. Not like last time. The nurses eventually had to pull her away and threaten more sedation before she could return to her bed. She wasn't well enough herself to be upright.

It had long passed a reasonable hour when Tina finally curled up as small as a bundle of twigs. The nurses promised they would wake her if anything changed, and gave her the rings she had been asking for incessantly.

Beeping, once more, broke through, and voices and suddenly Tina was wide awake, sitting upright.

He was waking up!! James was waking up! Again, strange visions poked the back of her eyes but who cared?!?! Whatever feeling this was, right now, was all consuming.

Tina sat small on the edge of the too-big bed, clutching her hands and waiting. The nurses spoke to him, gave him assurances and all Tina could do was fight the urge to barge right through and do it all herself.

Then… he looked at her. Tina was frozen in place.

Frozen there until the nurses felt it was finally time to leave. It was such a long time. She barely blinked. Her heart thrummed. Even then, when they left, to take notes or call a doctor or whatever they were doing, she seemed stuck there.

Apprehensive or afraid or maybe dreaming still.

Finally, of all things, it was her mouth that went first, quiet and hoarse and timid.

"Hey…"