"Don't, Mihael. Just don't." Matt murmured, his voice wavering and dangerously soft.

Matt slammed the door behind him. His bag of clothes was gone. I sat on the couch, my face in my hands and my whole body shaking. I tried to go to sleep on the black sofa. I was almost asleep when I got the call that jerked me out of my half-asleep daze.

"Hello?"

"Is this Mihael Keehl?"

"How did you get this number?"

"This is the Los Angeles local Hospital. Your roommate, Mail-"

"I'm on my way."

I didn't even bother to put a shirt on (I was in my pajamas). I threw a coat over my shoulders, pulled on a pair of athletic shorts, forced my needed-to-be-cut hair into a ponytail, and dashed out the door. I was speeding down the highway. Before I knew it I was at the hospital, running toward the front desk, my ponytail almost falling out and my legs still half-asleep from the ride over. I ran to the ER, redoing the overall messy ponytail as I ran. Matt was strapped to a gurney, covered in his own blood and splinters. I stopped dead at the sight of him.

"Dear Lord in Heaven…"

"Mr. Keehl, you got here fast."

"Yeah, well, eighty miles per hour on a motorcycle is pretty fast."

"That incredibly-"

"Dangerous? Yeah, I know, and right now I could care less. What the hell happened to Matt?"

"Mr. Jeevas was in a car accident. His car is totaled beyond repair, but your insurance-"

"I don't care about the car! Will he be all right?"

"It's likely he'll develop severe amnesia."

I looked at Matt, his body broken and bleeding, then back to the doctor. I sat in a nearby chair, pulled my knees up to my chest, and cried softly. Several people asked me if I was okay. I just glared at them and watched doctors save Matt's life. My hair flopped out of the ponytail and I pulled it back and tightened the ponytail until it hurt. I didn't care about the pain. It was my fault Matt got into an accident. Near sat beside me on the floor and pulled me to the floor.

"You could've gotten yourself killed! Eighty miles an hour? What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking. I could've gotten Matt killed. We got in an argument before his accident, he wasn't paying attention-"

"Mello. It's not your fault. Matthew will be fine. We will all be fine."

I wiped the tears off of my face and looked at Matt again. He was shirtless, his now stitched-together wounds clearly visible. He was still moderately bloody, but it was nothing compared to what I had seen.

Matt wasn't waking up. Near and I had gotten into a fight about something ridiculously stupid, and he wasn't talking to me. I was leaning up against the wall, my hands in my pockets. I was talking to Matt, even though he couldn't hear me.

"Matt... I know you can't hear me, but- but you have to wake up soon… Please? I know I haven't been the best roommate, but I was jealous, and Near's just getting worse and worse. He's been coming in here to taunt me. L's using my sister as a human shield. You're in a coma. Just… wake up soon, okay?"

I sat down next to Matt, held his hand, and cried. Not that cry that people cry when they're sad. It was the cry people cry when their world is crashing around them, when the buildings they built to keep themselves alive crumble and fade to nothing. It was the cry people cry when the man they love but can never be with is in a coma, their boyfriend is furious with them, and they can't think straight because their brain is full of thoughts of both of them. It was that cry.

I was sitting with Matt again. Everything in my inner mind was being eaten away by loneliness and guilt. I was always by Matt's side. My hair reached past its previous length at my shoulders and went down to the middle of my upper back. Today I had it braided and I looked like one of the posters on Matt's walls. I lost weight. I weighed about one-hundred and ten pounds.

"Hey Matt. Near- Near left me, and I need a friend right now. My sister isn't very helpful, she's awkward with emotions as best. They say that people in comas are semi-aware of what's going on around them, so I thought- I thought I'd come to talk to you, even if you won't talk back." Mello's voice faltered, "They keep saying you won't wake up, but I know you will. I just get this feeling that you're not gone. At least you're finally catching up on sleep, right? You've been in a coma for two weeks and six days… Not that I'm counting or anything! You're mostly all healed up, so maybe that'll help you wake up."

A nurse in hospital scrubs opened the door. She had a sad look on her face.

"Mister Keehl, visiting hours are over. You've been here all day."

"Oh, they are? Yeah… I guess I have."

It had been three weeks. Matt still hadn't woken up. I had a date set on my calendar that, in the event that Matt never woke up, I was going to get my motorcycle, ride to the Golden Gate Bridge, and throw myself into the water. I was sitting with him again, my hands in his, tears on my face, and Near was waiting in the car for me, like he always did. Doctors came in, grim looks on their faces, and I stood up and left before they had a chance to say anything. No. No, he's okay. He'll be okay. Everything will be fine. Near held the passenger door open. I buried my face in my hands.

"He hasn't woken up yet."

"They say he never will."

After that, I checked my phone calendar. Today was the day I marked to throw myself into the waters, and, by extension, the fiery pits of Hell that my life was sure to send me to.