#disabledsos

Luke hadn’t been worried at all when he first walked into the small office, ready to just get the appointment over with, and at first it did seem pretty standard. It was only when the doctor glanced through the test results and became eerily silent did Luke start to worry.

“Is everything alright?” he asked. 

The doctor ignored his question, asking instead, “Have you been having any difficulty seeing things in the dark recently, Luke?”

“Uhh, I mean a little? I just kinda assumed that was because I’d just been on my phone too much,” Luke murmured. “Why, is anything wrong?”

The doctor was silent for a moment, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He glanced up at Luke again, taking a breath before continuing. 

“I’m going to ask that you stay a bit longer today for a few tests, Luke. We’ll know more after that.”

Luke went home that night tired and stressed out from the long day of testing. He collapsed into your arms when you greeted him at the door, and you wrapped your arms around him tightly, hoping to ease his mind a little. 

“It’ll be okay, baby. Everything will be okay,” you murmured to him. “Whatever happens tomorrow, I know we can get past it.” 

The results came in the next morning. Retinitis pigmentosa is what the doctor called it. It was a rare condition where Luke’s retina would slowly deteriorate until he lost all vision. He would likely be legally blind by the age of 40, if his vision even lasted that long. 

Luke was in shock. A part of him had expected it, especially after seeing the doctor’s worried expression at the appointment.

“There has to be something they can do right? A surgery, maybe? Anything,” Luke stuttered into the phone while you rubbed his back comfortingly. “I won’t go blind, I can’t.”

“I’m sorry, Luke. There’s nothing that can be done right now,” the doctor continued to talk about different ways Luke could start preparing to make his vision last as long as possible and make the transition as smooth as it can be, but Luke stopped listening. 

He didn’t understand why this was happening to him. Luke considered himself a good person who led a good life and he just couldn’t fathom why the world decided to let him down now. 

The early symptoms became clear over the next few months, with Luke quickly becoming almost fully night blind. His peripheral vision was next to go, leaving him disoriented, often knocking into things and falling over.

The next few weeks were rough on both of you. Luke became distant, pushing you away whenever you tried to be there for him. It was obvious that he was in denial about his condition by the way he so adamantly refused your help. 

It wasn’t until he learned that he wouldn’t be able to continue driving anymore that the reality of the situation really hit him. He finally understood that his life would change drastically, and he wasn’t ready for it.

You found Luke crying on the bathroom floor that night. Wordlessly, you sat next to him, wrapping your arms around him like you had done thousands of times before.

“Y/N?” Luke mumbled a few moments later.

“Hmm?”

“Why are you still here?”

You pulled back and looked up at him, a little startled, “What do you mean?”

Luke’s eyes were swimming with vulnerability when he reached out and cupped your cheeks in his hands. “Why are you still with me when you know that I won’t be able to take care of you like someone else would?” he sighed.

“Are you kidding?” you breathed out, placing your hands over his own. “I love you, Luke. I’ll always love you, blind or not. No one is better for me than you are.”

Luke hummed at your answer, pulling you back into his chest. He was quiet for a moment before mumbling, “I’m sorry, baby.”

You closed your eyes, “Why?”

“I’ve been such a dick to you the past few months. You were only trying to help me, and I wasn’t being appreciative.”

“Shh, it’s okay, Lu. I understand.”

“Yeah?” Luke smiled into your hair.

“You’re gonna get through this, baby. I’ll be there with you the whole way.”

--

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"Hmm, baby," Luke lets out a soft moan as he rolls over. He cracks an eye open to look at your figure standing up. "What's wrong? Are you low?"

You shake your head. "I'm fine. Just a little high. Don't worry." You throw on your slippers to combat the cold floors under your feet.

"How high?" He sits up in bed, a little yawn leaving his mouth.

You chew your lip for a second. "350..."

Luke stretches and climbs out of bed. "Alright, lets go get you some insulin." He places a hand on your lower back as the two of you make your way to the kitchen.

The cool air from the fridge bites at your skin when you retrieve your bottle of insulin. Luke already has a syringe out for you and he carefully places the bag back into the cabinet. While you pull your insulin, Luke grabs a cold bottle of water and some alcohol swabs. He watches as you inject yourself, a small wince leaving his mouth. He trades you the syringe for the water and throws it into the red sharps bucket on the counter.

"Water is so good," You lean against the counter as you chug the rest of the bottle.

Luke chuckles as he watches you. "Let's go back to bed," He puts his hand out for you. "Check again in an hour?"

-

When your blood sugar drops in front of him for the first time, Luke has no idea what to do. You decided to join the boys for a movie night on the tour bus, but halfway through, you burst into a cold sweat. You excuse yourself for a few moments, your vision going slightly black when you stand, and go to find your blood sugar kit. Sure enough, its low.  

"Shit," Calum quickly turns the lights back on while Ashton pauses the movie. "Low? How?"

Luke forces you to sit down on the couch while you stare off into space. "What do we need to do?" He looks into your eyes.

"Uhm.." You can't seem to think about what to do. "Sugar. Soda, candy, doesn't matter."

Luke nods and the rest of the boys make quick work of finding something for you to snack on. Michael returns with a coke not even thirty seconds later.

"Okay, here we go." Luke opens up the can and holds it out for you. "Drink it," He watches with nervous eyes as you take some sips of the cola.

"Found some of these," Calum and Ashton walk back into the room with some small bags of random candy. "They had them in the dressing rooms earlier, I'm glad we took some now." He throws the bags down next to you.

Every five minutes, Luke pricks your finger again and checks your blood sugar. Once you hit 70, you start to get annoyed. "Luke, I'm okay now, I promise." You sigh.

"Okay, okay," He zips up your meter pouch and sits back onto the couch.

"You really scared us there, Y/N." Michael pipes up from the opposite side.

"I'm sorry," You apologize. "This doesn't happen too often."

"Hey, its fine. It's just a learning experience." Calum flicks the lights back off. "Can we get back to the movie now? It was just getting to the good part."

-

The knock on the door brings butterflies to your stomach. Luke jumps a little too, a bright smile appears on his face. "Go!" He stands up as you rush to open the door.

"Hello!" Two women stand at your door, both in scrubs and holding boxes. "We're here to help you set up your new pump and CGM, may we come in?" One of them asks. You nod and step out of the way, allowing them to walk into your shared home with Luke.

"So, it's a little overwhelming but I promise you guys will get it," There's tons of supplies laid out on the dining room table. Not one, but two insulin pumps, a bottle of insulin, a few boxes of supplies, and too many pamphlets that you and Luke will have to read later.

It takes over an hour to go over everything, both you and Luke ask questions about how everything works, and you even set up your usual ratios and basal times into your new pump. They help you and Luke set up apps on your phone for your new CGM and finally, it's time to apply it.

"So, we have your pump," One of the nurses hands you your new insulin pump. You had already filled it, you were just waiting to put the infusion set in and call it a day. "And we have one for Luke to put on for a few minutes while we finish going over everything,"

"Don't worry, its only full of saline," One of the nurses pats Luke on the shoulder. "We recommend putting your set on your tummy at first, but just like with injections you need to use an alcohol swab first,"

You and Luke both prep your stomachs. He rolls his shirt up and the nurse places a plastic set on him. She counts down from 3 and pushes two buttons, the needle rockets into his stomach and leaves a small round piece in its place. The infusion set was just a small cannula that sat under the skin, with some plastic pieces that your pump tubing could click in to. It made it super easy to unclip to shower or go swimming. 

"Okay, that wasn't," He gulps. "Too bad." He runs his finger over the plastic coating.

You gulp and look over to your nurse. She has the infusion set in her hand and you reach out to grab Luke's fingers. Soon enough, the infusion set is in. And it only felt like a little pinch.

The nurses clean up and leave you two with their numbers, stealing back the pump Luke had demoed. He sighs in relief when he can peel the infusion set off his skin and throw it away. You smile up at him and run to give him a hug.

"You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you for being willing to learn." You sigh into his chest. It felt good having someone there to help you, free of judgement.

“Mikey, I’m home!” you yelled as soon as you’d entered your shared apartment. Your roommate, and best friend, was almost always on the couch playing videogames but the headset he used to play made it hard for him to hear any sound outside of the yelling of his friends. That’s why you always had to be loud when you came home from work, slamming the door and calling out for him to notify him of your presence.

It had been an incredibly hard day, your stress levels were through the roof. It seemed you forgot pretty much every task you were supposed to do, remembering only when reminded, and couldn’t keep your focus. After all, you were in charge of much and with the imminent publishing of a new article, you’d blamed it on the general chaos that overtook the entire office.

“Hey, you” you nudged Michael’s shoulder as you sat down next to him on the couch, making his head turn in your direction. A smile opened up on his face upon seeing you finally home. “Hey, you’re back!” he exclaimed happily, stamping a kiss on your cheek. You giggled watching as he bid goodbye to his friends and shut the TV off. “So, I haven’t had the chance to get started on dinner-“ he started, sheepishly. “Michael!” you reprimanded with a smile on your face, slapping his arm playfully. “But I did think about what kind of take out to order” he justified, his arms up in surrender, the same amused smile you showcased on your face etched on his. You’d sighed. “And what is it?” you asked giggling. “Chinese, of course” he rolled his eyes. “Alright, but you call!” you pointed a finger at him as Michael nodded, getting up to go change out of the clothes you’d worn for the day.

Michael was quick to grip your hand to offer some sort of support as he saw you falter in your step, almost falling back down on the couch, while getting up. “Is everything okay?” the concern in his vice was clear. You squeezed his hand, waiting for the dizzying sensation of shock to pass and your sight to go back in focus. “Yeah, yeah” you reassured, slowly opening your eyes. “It’s been a long day” the smile you gave him was meant to ease his nerves, but Michael couldn’t help but worry as he watched you make your way to your room with a hand constantly pressed to the wall, in search for stability.

That evening you weren’t as talkative as usual, in fact, Michael did most of the talking. He told you about how one of the strings of one of his students’ guitar had snapped while he was tuning it for him and hit him in the face but had to laugh it off with tears in his eyes, his friends, the latest news. You just said it was a chaotic day at work, that your boss had yelled at you so much you thought your head was going to explode. He hugged you tight, offering to go and key her car if needed, which made you laugh softly. Feeling very tired, you excused yourself out of the usual Friday movie marathon. Michael smiled sweetly, saying it was okay and wishing you goodnight. He really is the best ever, you thought as you went back you your room.

The only way you could describe what happened when you woke up the next day was a nightmare. You almost though it was. You wanted to roll around to turn your alarm off, which even on Saturdays woke you up so you wouldn’t waste the day away in bed, but found you couldn’t. The motion was second nature to you, literally managing every day with your eyes closed, however the immobility of your torso made your eyes crack open as the alarm kept on going off.

Michael, on the contrary, liked to sleep in on Saturdays, so when he heard your alarm keeping on blaring he got off the bed and marched towards your room. When he opened the door he found you hopelessly trying to reach the alarm over on your nightstand but failing miserably. “Will you turn it off?” he huffed, going over to do it himself, yawning.

“I’m trying!” you snapped back, trying to sit up and failing. “I can’t feel my torso” you reasoned out loud, feeling the panic slowly set in.

“What?” Michael asked concerned, his eyes wide, as he took a seat beside you on the bed.

“I don’t know” it was safe to say you were confused. “I think it’ll go away, it may be the stress” you were trying to find a possible answer, pushing back the fear as best as possible.

“The stress?!” he exclaimed, his arms flying up. “You can’t feel half of your body and you think it’s stress?” clearly, he wasn’t as good as you were at rationalizing.

“Mike, it’ll go away” you voiced, his tone wasn’t helping you remain calm, his doubts the same as the ones you had but were trying to push at the back of your mind.

“Do you want me to help you sit up?” he asked then, offering his hands to hold onto. You nodded, slowly letting him help you with the motion.

Over the next couple of weeks, mostly spent in bed or on the couch and always requiring Michael to help you with every movement, the situation seemed to get better and worsen at the same time. The numbness was, in the span of a day, left behind in favour of wobbly legs and dizziness, you were always fatigued and tired. You had taken more days off of work in three weeks than ever since you started working. But just when you thought you had made it out of the woods, everything went downhill.

“It can’t go on like this” Michael sighed as, once again, he picked you up from the floor when your right leg had failed to support your weight while standing up from the couch. “We’re going to the ER” he stated, looking at you in the eyes.

You gulped, seeing the worry in his sparkling greens clear as day. Truth was you were worried too, but you were always used to downplay the discomfort you were in, brushing it off as if it were nothing. However, this was going too far and scaring you to your very bones. Nodding you agreed and he helped you prepare a bag in case you had to spend the night at the hospital, praying you wouldn’t have to, as silent tears made their way down your face.

Michael hated to see you like this, you were always so cheerful and bright, this was really taking a toll on you. He heard the quiet sniffles coming from you when he entered the room, finding you where he’d left you on your bed, folding a shirt into the duffle bag next to you. His heart had been held captive in a painful clench the last few days, the worry truly never leaving him and the confusion messing with his head. He took a seat next to you, putting his own change of clothes in the duffle, and taking your hands in his. Bringing them up to his lips, he left a light kiss on your knuckles.

“We’re getting you through whatever this is, alright?” he could hear his own voice faltering, watching as more tears pooled in your eyes. “I’m right here” he assured when you threw yourself into his arms, holding you tight. Next thing you knew, he was picking you up, almost forgetting the duffle and going out to his car. You made sure to turn off the lights and lock the door behind you.

The hours that followed were a whirlwind, dragging you down and down until you were sure you hit rock bottom when finally the results of all the tests and consultations with the doctors came to an end. All that you were sure of was Michael’s hand holding yours, fingers intertwined, when you were called back into the doctor’s office, from the waiting room full of other patients, and your legs failed to support you. Your best friend was the first to be at your side, followed by the doctor herself and a bunch of people in the waiting room. You couldn’t understand a thing that was going on, too many voices talking at the same time as you were sat on a wheeling chair and finally brought into the office. The diagnosis hit you like a slap in the face and you were sure you only heard half of the words that left the doctor’s mouth. “Multiple sclerosis is common at your age” “We will have to run more tests to make sure of what the complications you’ve developed are” “In some cases it is very hard to diagnose, but looking into the symptoms you’ve described and MRI we were lucky to find out right away” “Unfortunately, it was pretty quick to affect your legs, clearly causing an impairment we need to assess” “There are ways to help you regain the ability to walk independently, if you’re lucky”

She’d used the word lucky a lot, you’d noticed, while talking. Unfortunately, you didn’t feel like that at all.

Calling your family to tell them the news had been extremely difficult, knowing that they were far away and could only visit so many times took a huge toll on you. You hated to admit to yourself that the positive outlook you’d always had on life was quickly fading in favour of judgement-clouding pessimism. The first night back from the hospital you’d spent crying after days of not letting a single emotion shine through. Hearing your sobs shattered Michael’s heart and it only got worse when he entered your dark room and held you as you shook, gripping his t-shirt in tight fists and wetting it with salty tears. He’d seen you at your lowest and he was determined to bring you back.

Making you listen was hard, the wall of hopelessness you’d built around you seemed insurmountable, but Michael was as determined as ever. He wasn’t about to let you fall any deeper into the pit of anger and frustration that never seemed to leave you.

“Have you listened to what the doctor said?” he asked pushing your wheelchair through the park near your apartment building. It was a beautiful day and he was determined to get you out of the house.

“No, Mike, I was tired” you mumbled, looking over at the kids running after each other in a game of tag.

“The more you refuse to move, the more it’ll hinder your exercises in physical therapy” he reminded, stopping near a bench so he could sit down and look at you in the eyes while having this conversation.

“Yeah, and what am I supposed to do?” you snapped. “Waltz out of this fucking chair and go for a jog?” you pointed to a pair of joggers who were about to pass you by.

“Well, one day you might be able to!” he insisted, making you shake your head with a scoff.

“And what if I’m not? What if I’ll never walk again?” you wanted it to sound harsh, convinced of what you were saying, but your voice betrayed you, breaking at the end.

“What if you do?” he asked back softly, hoping that his point got through to you. And it did. You took in a shaky breath, looking away from his hopeful eyes, not bearing to see how much he’d believed in you when you didn’t.

--

Michael was there for you through every up and down: he held you when you couldn’t fall asleep because your anxieties and worries were eating away at your peace of mind, he was there to listen when you listed all the reasons why you believed you wouldn’t be albe to do this, always offering reasons why you could right back. He came to every appointment of physical therapy you had, he was with you every time you had to go to the hospital for check-ups or visits and was also there when it was explained to you that you had Relapsing Remitting MS, which meant that you would have episodes or spikes after periods of time without any new symptoms and it was a possibility that you could slow down the progression of the condition and manage symptoms, possibly walking on your own again if you were consistent with medication and exercising.

And while you were still worried, you couldn’t help but stare at the doctor with wide eyes. “R-Really?” you asked her, a smile threatening to slip at the mere thought of being able to stand for more than two minutes without the help of anyone.  

“Really” she confirmed as an elated sigh escaped you, Michael squeezed your hand, happy to see you hopeful.

It became routine for you two, when he came home from work right about when you shut your computer off as your part-time shift ended, to immediately start exercising. He was happy to finally see you as combative as you once were, determined to fight this off as much as possible.

“You gotta!” he reminded with a laugh from his spot beside you as he saw you panting on the yoga mattress in the middle of your living room. 

“I don’t wanna!” you whined covering your eyes with your arm. He chuckled, lifting it slowly as you peered up at him with one eye opened. 

“Come on, it’s the last set!” he encouraged and you huffed, knowing he was right. Propping yourself up on your elbows you looked at his adorable smile and rolled your eyes. Michael helped you up, slowly walking you to the wall, and stopping a foot away from it. He eased down with you into a sitting position as you let your back rest against the wall, finally letting go of you.

“Look at you, walking up to the wall without tripping!” he crossed his arms over his chest, smiling as you silently counted the seconds you needed to keep in position for. You chuckled, seeing proudness in his eyes. Once the squat exercise was over, you stood up with wobbly legs, only one hand resting on the wall behind you for support. You smiled widely upon seeing the look on his face.

“You can stand on your own?” he asked a little shocked as you nodded. “Since when?” he smiled brightly, quick to offer his help to walk back to the couch and sit down.

“Yesterday the phone was ringing, it was my mom, I forgot it on the shelf behind my desk and you weren’t at home, so I just… tried” you shrugged. Michael scoffed with a bright smile. “I almost tripped, but I fell back on the chair before I could”

“Atta girl!” he hugged you tight. “I’m so proud” he rocked you from side to side, making the both of you giggle.

It was taking incredible effort but you saw the improvements every day, slowly there was no need for you to hang on to the parallel bars at you sides as you hesitantly put a feet in front of the other, walking the short distance. There was no need for your nurse, or Michael, to help you stand up from a sitting position and you were even able to stand while you prepared your cereals in the morning before your best friend helped you walk to the dining table.

Slowly, Michael was able to go back to his normally longer shifts at music school as you found it easier and easier to move through the house either with crutches or, on the days when you were too tired, with your wheelchair.

“Need help?” Michael asked as you were in the kitchen microwaving some popcorn for your movie marathon.

“Nope!” you yelled back, leaning against the counter as you waited for the device to beep, crutches at your side. “Okay, maybe” you second guessed once you put the popcorn into the bowl.

Michael was quick on his feet, entering the kitchen with a lopsided smile, leaning on the door frame with one shoulder as his hands went to the pockets of his basketball shorts.

“Can you take the bowl?” you smiled sheepishly. He chuckled, nodding as he complied. “Thanks” you blew a kiss his way, steadying yourself on the crutches and making your way to the couch. Michael stayed back, watching you.

“Staring is rude” you snickered, sitting down and laying your crutches down on the floor.

“I wasn’t staring” he defended, making his way over. You cocked an eyebrow at him with a smirk.

“I was admiring how far you’ve come” he added, bringing some popcorn to his mouth as he sat down.

“Sure, Clifford” you laughed, reaching for some popcorn too.

“I’m serious!” he exclaimed. “Eight months ago you barely wanted to get out of bed, now you’re walking around the house and are basically a fitness instructor” you scoffed as he giggled.

“Just wait till new symptoms show up in a few years” you sighed, pressing play on the movie. Michael snapped his head in your direction, his brows furrowed.

“Hey, no, don’t talk like that” he almost scolded.

“Mikey, it’s fine, I made my peace with it. My life is always going to be like this” you gestured to the crutches and the wheelchair in the corner, shrugging.

“No, it’s not” he couldn’t help but raise his voice a little, disbelieving of the words that were leaving your mouth. “You’re taking back the life that this tried to pry from you, you’re fighting and it’s working. You’ll be able to walk again soon and if new symptoms show up you’ll learn to monitor them and make them your bitches”

“My bitches?” you couldn’t help but let an amused snicker out. You saw the left corner of his mouth tilting up, trying to keep the laughter at bay, after all, you were too.

“Yes” he said resolutely. “I’m helping you through this, remember? Every step of the way” it wasn’t time to cry, you reminded yourself, pushing back the tears as you nodded.

“Thanks Mikey” you let your head rest on his shoulder, sitting back. He just left a kiss on top of your head, resting his cheek against it as you both focused on the movie playing.

--

“Michael, come here!” you didn’t like to scare him, you really didn’t, but when he slowed down the fast jog he made over to you room, panting slightly and ready to help however he could, a glint of panic in his eyes, you couldn’t help but feel the need to suppress your laughter. “Stay there” you said, watching confusion grow on his face, as he settled by the door.

“What’s wron-“ you shushed him before he could finish, slowly sitting up from your bed. Michael watched as you stood up without the need to hold onto anything, starting to walk  towards him without needing any help. His mouth opened in surprise and you smiled, finally reaching him.

“Hi” you said, a feet away from him. You didn’t have the chance to see his glassy eyes, full of pride, because he was quick to engulf you in his arms and pick you up to spin you around just once, as you giggled elated. He held you tight, his face hiding in the crook of your neck.

“Are you crying?” you asked slightly amused, feeling your skin getting wet.

“No” came the muffled response from him. “You did it” he whispered, still not moving.

“It’s not the end of anything, but by the looks of it… I can walk on my own now” you said, bringing a hand up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Thank you for never giving up on me”

“Thank you for not giving up on yourself” he sniffled, finally looking at you with probably the brightest smile you’ve ever seen him display over the course of the last year and a half. You smiled too, a single tear of joy running down your face which Michael was quick to dry with the pad of his thumb.

He left a sweet kiss on your forehead. “We need to call everyone!” he jumped up in joy only seconds after, making you giggle, taking you by the hand like he’d done over a million times by now and walking with you to the living room.

“You need to chill” you said, sitting down on the couch next to him.

A memory of you telling him what to do crept into Ashtons mind. He distinctly remembers you telling him that this might happen if your blood sugar drops too fast or goes too low. He rushed over to the dresser to grab your meter and made his way back to where you lay. His hands were shaking slightly as he inserted a test strip into the meter and prepared the poker. 

“Baby, I’m gonna check your sugar, alright?” He whispered to you as he placed the poker to the pad of your thumb, pressing the button to push the needle forward. When the test was finally complete, Ashton let out a shaky breath as your number appeared on the screen: LOW. He gently ran a hand down your cheek, trying to make you at least somewhat coherent. 

“Baby, I need you to wake up. You need to drink some pop or something.” Ashton tried a few more times to wake you up. When 30 seconds had passed, he hurried out of your bedroom and headed towards the closet with all your diabetic supplies in it. He looked in the closet, trying to find the glucagon kit you had told him about. He let out a sigh of relief when he finally found the red container he needed. Ashton ran back to you after he had prepared the injection and grabbed his phone. 

Ashton grabbed a hold of your thigh as he began to insert the needle, attempting to lessen your trembling. 

His hands were shaking as he picked up his phone and dialed 911.

“Hello, 911, what is your emergency?” 

“I just had to inject my girlfriend with glucagon. Her blood sugar was low and she wouldn’t wake up.” 

“Ok sir, give me your address and we’ll send an ambulance your way.” 

When you finally opened your eyes, you were surrounded by bright lights. A weak groan left your lips as you looked around, trying to figure out where you were.

“Ash?” You croaked out when you spotted him asleep in a chair next to you. Ashton rubbed his eyes as he woke up, jolting upright when he saw that you were alright. 

“Oh thank god.” He sighed as he stood up and went to find a doctor. You looked at him with confusion written all over your face when he reentered the room.

“What happened?” You finally asked. 

“You went into a diabetic coma Y/n. They did a lab test, your blood sugar was nine.” Your eyes widened in fear and shock as the words left his mouth.

“W-what?” You reached out for Ashton’s hand as the doctor that had been taking care of you walked in. 

“I’m glad to see you awake miss Y/L/N. How are you feeling?”

“Groggy.” You replied, running your hand over your face. 

“Well, we have your blood sugar up to 100. You are doing better, but we’d like to keep you overnight to make sure nothing else happens.” You nodded your head in agreement as the doctor exited. 

Ashton slowly stood up and walked over to the hospital bed you were in and layed down next to you.

“You scared the life out of me. I thought I lost you for a little bit.” He explained as a tear ran down his face. 

“Hey, I’m ok. That’s not the first time that’s happened.” Ashton let out a small laugh.

“Yeah, well, It’s the first time I’ve ever had to deal with it. Please don’t do that again.” He giggled slightly, placing a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“No promises.” A groan escaped Ashton at your response.”I love you.” You said to him as you kissed him again.