#howgh

It was complicated. After three years of being friends, you decided to share an apartment.Things were great at first; a little awkward, but great. As time went on, you got more and more comfortable being together and that’s when you started to fall in love with him.

It started with the little things he did. Like the way he would fall asleep stretched out on the couch after a long day with his mouth slightly parted, his long eyelashes brushing his cheekbones. Or the fact that he would actually do his laundry, unlike any other guy you’ve ever met.

And in your defense, he did give you love, just not the kind you craved from him. His love came in forms of things like telling you to be safe as he leaves for the weekend, or pulling a blanket over you when it was your turn to fall asleep on the couch. What you had wanted from him though, was more than friendship love. He just didn’t feel that way about you.

Had you thought about sleeping with Joe? Of course you did. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t maybe even got off just thinking about it. You had to wonder if he ever thought about you that way. You were probably never going to know.

Joe had left for another weekend out on Friday. He did his usual of packing a small bag, taking a bottle of whatever liquor was being stored in your top cabinets, and he gave you a tight hug and told you to be safe before slipping out of the door.

What you regret about that now though, is that after countless times of him telling you to be safe, you never once told him it back. Joe is one of the most responsible people you know, so in your defense, you figured he wouldn’t have to be told to be smart and make good decisions. After he left, you really didn’t feel like going out with friends of your own, so you spent your Friday night scrolling mindlessly on your phone and ordered Chinese take-out.

Saturday came and you had to work the afternoon. You work at a thrift store that donates a good portion of its income to a charity that benefits Third World countries. A lot of the people that work there are volunteers, but you’ve been volunteering for such a long time that they offered you a job with pay. It couldn’t be a better fit for you. After your shift was over, you went home to an empty house again, just wishing Joe would come home.

You woke up Sunday morning and the day went by fast, as you did nothing again. The rain was steadily pouring outside but you didn’t mind, you actually enjoyed the sound of rain and the smell it brought to the outdoors.

Joe usually came home on Sunday afternoon, sometimes pushing it to about 2:00 P.M. But now it was 4:00 P.M., and you were starting to worry. You thought about calling or texting him, but you decided against it, not wanting to bother him or him to get any ideas. At about 5:30 P.M., you got a call from a number you didn’t recognize. You weren’t one to just ignore a phone call from an unknown number, so you answered it.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?” You could hear the low voice tremble, like something was caught in their throat.

“Yes, who is this?”

“It’s Ben. I was out with Joe this weekend. Listen, Y/N, Joe’s been in an accident. It’s really bad. Like, really bad Y/N.” You found yourself having troubles breathing. Your ears started ringing and your vision blurred, body going weak.

What happened next was all a blur. You don’t remember if Ben continued talking to you or not, or if you even could respond. All you could think about was Joe dying not knowing how much you loved him. In some turn of events, Ben had showed up at your apartment to take you to the hospital where Joe was. Even as you walked up to the hospital entrance, you still hadn’t cried, and you weren’t sure why.

You couldn’t see Joe immediately upon arriving, so you sat waiting in the lobby with Ben as Joe’s other friend Gwilym showed up and expressed his sympathy with you both. All three of you waited for what felt like hours in the bland, eerily uncomfortable hospital lobby.

You now found yourself sat next to Joe’s bed, holding his cold hand that was hooked up to many machines. He had visible bruises nearly everywhere. His face was all beat up with a few cuts, his hair tousled and unruly. You were alone, just you and him, in the quiet with nothing but the random beeps of the machines in the room.

You had been informed that Joe was involved in a drunk driving accident. He was coming home in the pouring rain with already limited visibility, as a drunk driver swerved across the intersection and nailed right into the driver’s side of Joe’s car, trapping him inside and severely injuring him. The doctors were brutally honest. If his body doesn’t start working and fighting for itself within the next 48 hours, he wasn’t going to survive. If it did, however, he should be able to recover and eventually function fully again.