A/N: This is going to be a bit of a different story, but I'm really hoping it is successful! Read the author's note on the bottom if you get confused, because the narrations change quite often. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold! (Unfortunately…)

This wasn't anything I was expecting. Hell, it was far from it. All the other accidents I had been in were just preparatory for this one. It was big; oh boy, it was big.

I am driving, and I have been for only a few minutes. I'm at an intersection and I begin to pass when a clearly determined man goes through (completely ignoring a stop sign) doing 45. Everything slows down.

All I can really point out is the screaming of obscenities from the person next to me. Who is that exactly? I don't even remember by now. And then the piercing pain in my side leaves me breathless and unable to see straight. I hear someone screaming my name, as my side feels like it's splitting into an even half. Agony spouts through me like a fountain and a black film soon begins to cover my eyes. I haven't blacked out yet, but I wish I would get it over with already.

Sounds slowly fade from my ears. My usually heightened senses begin to lower to a dull point, and I can only barely hear sirens and the sound of the mystery person next to me crying and saying my name.

It won't be long. I'm numb from the waist down and it feels as though I'm lying down. I feel something warm, trickling down my head and I can only guess it's blood. It won't be long.

"Arnold…"

My own breathing becomes stunted…

Is this happening? Am I going to be gone? Please, God, don't let me be leave.

Everything is quite except for the breathing. But then the breathing isn't even audible.

I'm gone.

"How is he doing?" Came a concerned voice. The hospital nurse turned around and looked down at the six or so teenagers who had come to visit their friend who had been admitted just weeks before. She sighed.

"We aren't sure yet," She gravely stated, "But from the looks of it, it's not too great." The teenagers all looked down in disdain. One of them nervously piped up.

"Can we visit him anytime soon?" The girl asked. The nurse looked into the small, white hospital room and then back at the group.

"I guess so. Not too many at once, though, you see how small that room is." The nurse said and then quickly walked away. The teenagers looked at each other with no words.

Soon, they all decided to sit in the waiting room and wait until someone got some sort of an idea. Should they just go home? Or should they visit one of their best friends? They all looked positively grief-stricken. One girl in particular looked almost shattered, as she sat with her knees pulled up in the chair, and her clammy arms wrapped around them. Everyone stared at her with peculiar glances.

The silence that engulfed the area wasn't a particularly awkward silence, but they all felt something had to be said. But what? Their ears pricked at the slightest sound. The dropping of a pen, the muttered sentence from nurse to nurse, and even small sobs were heard echoing from the corridors.

There wasn't much they could do or say, but they knew it would be best to say some sort of goodbye to their friend. He may recover, but they all weren't too sure.

"Should we just go in one by one, or what?" Came an angry voice. Even in a time of depression, the girl would always be bitter.

"Good idea, Helga. She did say there wasn't room in there." Another voice stated. The rest of the group agreed. It became silent for just a few moments.

"So who's going first?" Spoke a somewhat snooty girl in bright red. They looked around and shrugged their shoulders.

"I'll go," Came a shy voice from a fiery redheaded boy. Everyone turned to gawk as he cut through the children and straight into the hospital room without another word. The door clicked silently behind him.

I'm five years old, and in kindergarten. And let me tell you, it is absolutely rotten.

I look around for a table to sit at for lunch. Anywhere would be fine for me; I am open to friendships with my new classmates. I'm not completely sure they feel the same, however, because every table I stop at, I receive odd glares and whispers. They all know each other from preschool, and I thought it wouldn't be a big deal.

"Hi,"

I turn around cautiously. A child with white paste glazed in his brilliant red hair stared back at me, with a bright smile on his face and all. He carries a brown sack lunch in one hand. I wave nervously.

"Do you want to sit with me? I never usually have a lunch buddy," He admits solemnly. Smiling and nodding, I follow him to a rickety, old table that seems much trashier from the rest. He sits down on a squeaky chair and opens his lunch pouch.

"Look, turkey," He smiles, pulling out a sandwich from his pack, "What do you have?"

I look down at my bare hands.

"Grandpa slept in today, and forgot to pack me a lunch." I say while I hear my stomach audibly rumbling, as if there is a volcano planted inside me.

"Here, you can have half," He surrenders one triangle of his turkey sandwich to me, and I grin unconsciously.

"What's your name?" I ask him, taking a bite of the sandwich. He chews, gulps, and answers,

"Eugene," He extends a hand.

"Arnold," I exchange my name for his handshake and continue to eat as Eugene talks about his almost famous Mona Lisa made of snot and his brand new sandals, which his father made him wear in case of a rash. Maybe kindergarten won't be so bad after all.

"Hi, Arnold," I say as I enter the cramped hospital room and I look at my friend. His usual upright blonde hair is droopy and a dull yellow, and his skin looks almost gray. I want to wince upon looking at him.

I feel the eyes of all my other classmates on me through the large window, but for once I really don't care. I'm just here to see one of my greatest friends, maybe for the last time. I hope to God it's not the last time.

I look at him for a very, very long time. I imagine him as he usually is, hopeful and trying to keep the peace within the rest of us. Ever since elementary school, he was been the backbone for all of us. Even people who don't like to show it, like Helga or Rhonda. He has been there through it all.

"I miss you, you know?" I tell him. He lies there and the machines whir, and I don't get a response.

"It's like there's no more air," I continue, "We can't breathe anymore."

The machines whir.

My eyes droop and I let out a deep, long, and needed sigh. The tubes and medical equipment hooked up to his limp body look painful, and they make it hard to imagine he's all right. If there were no tubes, I would just pretend he was asleep, or something else.

I always do it in a time of crisis. Imagine things, I mean. When my pet gerbil died, I pretended she had just dug a hole right through to the outside and went to live with her relatives. But not now. Now, it was serious. There was no escaping this one, not even for a minute.

"You have to come back sometime," I mutter. He lies there, and the machines whir. It's getting harder and harder for me to stand here and not do something drastic. I feel the need to leave, but I can't.

Rubbing a hand through my hair while shoving the other in my pocket, I suddenly feel sick. I don't like to see the one person who didn't make fun of me, or ridicule me during most of our childhood years just lie there in front of me, motionless and half alive. Only half alive.

"I'm not sure what to say," I scratch the back of my neck tentatively, "But I hope I see you soon, right? I really hope so,"

I move towards the exit, slowly. My legs are like cinder blocks and I can barely lift them without regretting it, and without wanting to turn around once more. But I won't do it.

"Goodbye."

The machine whirs. I exit with one teardrop gliding down my face but I wipe it off before looking at the others. They smile with empathy.

"Who's next?"

A/N: I really hope I didn't confuse you! If you need clarification: The first section was Arnold, the second was 3rd person, the third section was Arnold (somewhat of a flashback), and the last section was Eugene. This is how the bulk of this story will be written (if you have any outrageous objections, don't hesitate!), meaning that it will be 3rd person, then Arnold flashbacking, and then a random person of my choice. Teehee! I hope you like, review and let me know what you want to happen in this story! I think I have five other characters picked out for right now (in no specific order):

Gerald, Helga, Rhonda, Sid, Phoebe.

If you want someone else to be included, let me know! Thanks for reading!