As It Was

Chandler

First, a tingle spread from the top of my spine to the bottom of my feet, shooting through me like sparks of electricity.

The numbness I'd previously felt was fading, welcoming a new prickling sensation in my fingertips that felt like someone was poking a hundred little needles into my skin. It's not as unpleasant as the ache that numbness caused.

My pulse picked up, and I could vaguely hear the persistent beeping of the heart rate monitor beside me beating more and more rapidly every second.

Then, the voices murmured around me became louder. They were quiet at first, nothing more than mumbles that I couldn't comprehend. Now, they're bustling all around me in every direction. They're calling for me frantically.

"Mr. Lee, can you hear me?"

"Mr. Lee, squeeze if you can hear me."

It was too much. They were all talking one after another or at the same time, and my mind was just trying to keep up.

"Chandler!" The last voice was the only one I could identify.

Henry?

Panic echoed in his voice and a deep anxiety poured out of every syllable. I tried my best to speak, my throat feeling raw and aching as I gave it my all. For the first time, I heard a little grunt. It wasn't a sentence or even a word. Did I imagine it? However, I tried again.

The noise repeated, but louder this time. Gasps erupted from around me, and I heard a sob come from somewhere slightly further away. I tried to put the pieces together and think of whose voice that was- whose cry that was. Yet, there was still too much going on at the moment for me to focus.

Only one thing mattered right in that second; they heard me. They knew I could hear them. For the first time in however long I'd been gone for, I responded. I didn't know exactly where I went, because I was in fact there. Just not in the same way as everyone else.

I heard medical staff moving with quick steps all around me, and all of a sudden the black that I'd been so accustomed to 'seeing' melted away into a white, creamy haze. It almost looked like smoke; swirling, and twisting in front of my eyes until my vision slowly began to clear.

I saw three bright LED lights bolted to the ceiling, burning my sensitive retinas as my eyes weren't accustomed to seeing anything but a dark, motionless canvas posted to the insides of my eyelids. Then, medical personnel hustled around me, checking my pulse, feeling my forehead, and touching certain points on my body to see if I was functioning correctly.

I blinked once, twice, three times, trying to get my eyes used to the chilled air of the room that was drying them out almost immediately. A man's face appeared in my vision, a gleaming smile plastered on his aged face. His name tag read 'Dr. Perez'. From what I remembered, I gathered that he must be the big shot around here.

He patted my shoulders and placed a single finger above my eyes, "Mr. Lee, everything is going to be okay. Try to keep on taking deep breaths and do your best to focus on me. Follow my finger with your eyes if you can." I blinked and did as told. It was hard at first; like my eyes were moving slightly slower than my brain and stuck from not being used in so long.

He sighed, seemingly relieved. He turned his head and murmured something to a nurse with a professional bun pinned atop her head before bringing his gaze back down and smiling gently, "Welcome back." His words hit me harder than one hundred bullets.

Is this real?

Is this just a dream?

My mind was still slightly jumbled, and it was difficult to notice everything going on around me. I tried to turn my head, my neck aching in the confines of what I realized was a small, thin brace fastened around it. My brows furrowed as I observed all the monitors I was hooked up to, my arms stuck with needles, and my chest adorned with small square patches connected to wires that read the rhythms of my heart.

Then, a door on the other side of the room burst open, and rushed footsteps scurried over to my right side. My mother stopped when she reached my bed, her hands covering her mouth as tears streamed down her cheeks. My father was quick to follow her into the room, out of breath and trying to calm himself down as he looked into my eyes cautiously, as if he was worried I might not remember him; like I might not remember anyone.

"Chandler," my mother sobbed, moving a hand to grasp my hand firmly, "I can't believe it," her eyes squeezed shut as a sob knocked her body forward, head dipping as she cried, "We were so afraid you were never coming back to us." My father held her weakly, tears filling his own eyes as he swallowed thickly,

"Son-," he started, voice cracking as he tried his best to stay strong but folded as my mother cracking in front of him seemed to break the dam, tears falling freely from his narrowed eyes. He brought a hand to my shoulder and grasped it, squeezing as he let his dead drop to my chest. My mother sniffled as she watched him cry, finally letting go and not holding back.

I felt my eyes brim with fresh tears, my lip quivering as my parents held me like I was made of glass; like I would shatter if I was jostled slightly too hard. I tried to speak, but my voice was too hoarse. My throat was so dry, feeling akin to sandpaper when I tried to swallow a sob trying to escape. It was all so terrifying, and I didn't know how to feel. Was I safe now, or was I going to be taken away to that terrible realm in-between again?

My mother leaned forward and kissed my forehead, moving her hands down to cup my cheeks. Her thumbs gently swiped away the tears that seemingly couldn't stop running like a leaking pipe flooding the floor with its spill.

'This can't be a dream,' I thought. The familiar smell of her floral perfume wafted through my nose as she clung to me like glue. Her warmth calmed me, easing my racing heart a bit and allowing me to focus a bit more to try and collect myself.

I sniffled weakly as I let my eyes wander around the room fully, the tears aiding as a bit of lubricant, but my vision was still slightly blurred around the edges. Where there wasn't medical staff recording my vitals and health information on laptops and charts on clipboards, there was a single chair pushed into a corner of the room.

Henry sat at the edge of the seat on his own little island of solitude, unmoving. Although he was indeed in the room, his soul seemed so far away. Perhaps in shock or disbelief, his round eyes were wide as he stared into my own. He had the ivory sleeve of his sweater covering his mouth, the material catching the flood of tears running down his cheeks. The watery streams reflected against the harsh lights of the room, a few droplets falling quickly onto the material of his jeans and forming little dark spots along the tops of his thighs.

He stayed still, appearing like he was afraid to move. I swallowed thickly and raised my left hand slightly, just enough for him to see, and hoped that he would know what it meant.

Come here. Please.

His breath seemed to stutter in his throat. He looked at my parents staring at me, and then back at him, before my mother announced quietly, "I'm going to call your brother. He should be on his way over by now."

With that, they stepped away from my bed and walked toward Henry where he remained a statue in his seat. My mother stroked his cheek lightly, still weeping slightly herself but too awe-struck to fully let the situation sink in, and my father patted him on the back, nodding his head toward me, encouraging him that it was okay- that everything was going to be okay.

Henry nodded slightly, unsure, and slowly stepped toward me as my mother left the room and my father stepped to the side to answer a few questions the doctor had for him. His feet moved cautiously like a fawn who didn't quite know what to do with himself. Did he think this was some sort of sick dream, too?

He finally stopped at the left side of my bed, his leg just barely jostling a few of the IV's that I was connected to. Up close, the tip of his nose was pink, the color it would turn on an icy winter day after he'd been outside too long. His eyes were red-rimmed, intensifying the bright cocoa of his irises glimmering with tears as he tried his best to calm down.

He shook his head, mind clearly reeling as he looked up and down my body, taking me in fully until he swiped at his cheeks hastily with slim fingers.

A small smile managed to bloom onto my face for the first time in so long. I didn't care as I felt the flesh of my bottom lip crack a bit, tasting blood when I let my tongue run over the small wound. I couldn't help but feel fond of him as he was embarrassed for crying, even at a time like this. I lifted my hand again, presenting it to him palm up. He gasped slightly, our eyes meeting briefly before he finally placed his hand in mine.

His grip was loose at first but then tightened as he broke down all over again. He shriveled down next to me, squatting as he placed our entangled hands against his warm forehead. His shoulders shook as little hiccups escaped his mouth with each cry. I blinked rapidly, trying to stop the inevitable flow of tears already forcing themselves out of my eyes and down my cheeks, soaking into the gauze wrapped around my neck under the small stabilization brace there.

Don't cry anymore, Henry. No more crying.

I squeezed his hand, and he looked up. He looked so small, sitting there practically falling apart at his knees. I felt sick knowing that it was all because of me.

I gulped and took a deep breath as he parted his lips to speak, "I-is this real? Am I dreaming?" His voice was frail and shaky, fragile like the petals of a flower. His face was bewildered; like he was sure none of this was real and only a sick dream taunting him- like he was about to wake up and see me still lying here in an endless sleep.

"...dreaming." I tried my best to rasp out, a small laugh making me cough slightly afterward as his face fell, brows twitching and frowning as he pinched my arm lightly with the hand that wasn't intertwined with my own.

"Don't joke about this!" He scolded me, eyes wide and cheeks turning pink, "It's not funny." His eyes shut again, but he peeked one open to look at me. He was studying my face, observing the small details that he hadn't been able to see in so long. I watched as his long lashes fluttered when he blinked, realizing he'd just been gawking at me without saying anything. He quickly turned his head and seemed to be searching for someone to get something to help ease my discomfort.

Nothing could tear me down now. I felt as if I'd been to hell and back. A scratchy throat and weak body was nothing compared the mental and emotional torment I'd been enduring for so long.

He stood back up to his full height and rubbed a hand down his face. It was then that I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. His cheekbones seemed to stand out more than usual and his skin had taken an even paler hue. He looked the worst I'd ever seen him- he looked absolutely defeated.

I frowned, "Hey," I mustered, coughing again as I pulled on the hand still in mine to bring him closer, "you look sick." My voice was scratchy and sounded absolutely horrible. My words came out rough and cracked, but I kept trying to speak despite realizing that I probably shouldn't be speaking. The flow of my speech was noticeably slow and seemed to drag slightly, but it was much better than expected for someone who had been unconscious for weeks.

Henry gratefully accepted a paper cup of water that a nurse retrieved as she saw his frantic state. I couldn't tell him not to worry, my muscles felt as if they were made of gelatin and my voice only came out in hoarse whispers. I could only try to calm him with my eyes, but it clearly didn't work as he brought it to my mouth, feeding me as if I were a child. The water immediately soothed my aching throat and quenched the dry skin on my lips.

"What?" He looked at me incredulously, "You're the one who just woke up from a coma and you're worried about me? Listen to yourself, your voice is so hoarse. Don't try to talk right now, you need to rest." He huffed and lightly smacked my hand, barely even more than a pat. I smiled again as he inwardly worried, yet the stress practically oozed from him in flaming bursts of anxiety. Still lost in his thoughts, he nibbled his bottom lip for a moment as if pondering what exactly he wanted to say before shaking his head slowly, "I'm fine- just really glad you're here." A warm feeling settled into my chest as he dipped his upper body over the side of the bed and rested his head in the crook of my neck softly, his arms coming around my shoulder as much as they could in my lying down position and tightened.

"Don't you ever fucking scare me like that again, Chan." His voice was minuscule in my ear, barely even a whisper. I felt a wetness seep into the fabric covering my collarbone and closed my eyes when I heard him let out a shaky sigh as his fresh tears clung to my skin. I breathed in his familiar scent, a long sigh escaping my lips that felt like a ton of bricks lifting off of my shoulders. I looked around the room again, seeing my parents speaking to Dr. Perez and watching my mother glance over at us every few minutes, a hand laid over her heart as she watched Henry and I embrace.

I hadn't even noticed her come back into the room, but there was no room for childish embarrassment due to her seeing us like this. After I thought I lost anything, the small things like that didn't seem to matter anymore. I let my eyelids slip shut one last time and lifted my arm to wrap around his waist the best I could, just holding him there. It was hard for me to move, my brain trying to control my limbs despite the disconnect I felt between them. It was like somebody snipped a wire that connected my mind to the rest of me, rendering me unable to properly function just right. However, I tried not to think about it just yet; worrisome thoughts and anxiety could wait until later. Neither of us moved for a few minutes. We simply stayed there, and time didn't seem to pass. Although I'd been out for an amount of time unbeknownst to me, I was so tired. I didn't care, though, as sleeping was the very last thing I wanted to do in that moment.

An unexplainable satisfaction settled deep into my bones as I let everything else that didn't matter in this moment fade. I focused on the rise and fall of my chest and the feeling Henry's soft sweater tickling my skin as I held him tight.

"Never again," I whispered back to him, knowing he would hear me and probably scold me for speaking again, "...promise."