Steve had come in, alcohol on his breath, swaying back and forth, not able to walk in a straight line.
“Steve, are you…” te start, but are cut off with a slap.
“Shut up, bitch.”
te sank to the floor in disbelief as he staggered into your bedroom.
And the tears ran down your face, and the hyperventilating began.
So here te were, lying on the cucina floor.
I thought for sure I was dead.
But I heard myself breathing. I heard the voices of people around me. I heard the word “coma” repeatedly da the doctors and nurses. I heard Ponyboy and Two-Bit’s voice.
And then I heard her voice. (Y/N)’s voice. I heard her crying, talking to me. About the gang, her day, reading, whatever. Sometimes softly Canto to herself.
One giorno I squeezed her hand, and she was laughing and crying all at the same time.
“I Amore te Johnny.” She whispered. “Just wake up.”
I tried so hard to answer her, but no words came out. I wanted to tell her I was ok, I would make it out of this, even though I would be paralyzed, I’d be fine. We’d be fine.
But all I can do now is squeeze her hand.
