A/N: Hey guys, here's another chapter for you all. I hope you're still enjoying this book and please don't forget to vote and comment telling me what you thought. I don't bite I promise... I just throw bunnies at people!
Anyway, happy reading!
~Jiana~
           
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                      |A Week Later|

Dawn's POV

The first thing I noticed after I opened my eyes was the light that came through the window, which shined at the side of my face. I then focused on the ceiling. It was dull and blank, not having anything worth remembering, yet, I found myself not being able to look away from it—that would take too much energy on my part, so I continued to lie down on my bed as unmoving as a doll left alone on a dresser. Fatigue plagued my limbs; I was just so tired that moving was on the last thing on my mind, even breathing seemed to be like a chore—I felt as if I was able to remain in this position forever, although, that was until my ears finally acknowledged the continuous sound of someone breathing to the left of me. I almost immediately knew that the person was sleeping due to the way each full breath, the person took, came out evenly.

Who is that?

At first I tried to decipher who the person might be by the breaths they took, unfortunately, their breathing was foreign to my ears. The only thing I was sure of was that whoever was beside me was definitely having a much-needed nap. But then, after about a minute or so of mentally forcing myself to glance at who exactly was in my room, I slowly turned my neck and looked down. My eyes widened when I realized that it was Thomas who was beside me.

What was he doing in my room? Did my mom let him in? I thought my room was off limits.

He was toward the edge of the bed with his head turned to the side, at an angle that allowed me to see his whole face properly. Thomas was resting on his folded arms as if they were his pillow and his hair lightly brushed against the blanket that covered my tired body. I scrutinized his large, light brown curls for a moment more than what I intended because I noticed that it was a bit longer than what I last remembered it being, however, aside from that, I have to admit that the longer my sight lingered on him—watching his sleeping face and hearing his even and weighted breaths—melted my heart. I've never seen him like this before, so to me, this moment was precious. A smile graced my lips when I realized how innocent he looked. He almost resembled the innocence of that of a newborn baby.

I slowly reached out my hand to his head, but my arm shook and felt as if I hadn't used it in weeks, which was odd and almost alarmed me but I just linked it to my horrible tiredness and continued to bury my hand within his hair. It was soft as I ran my fingers through it, twirling it around in every which way and all.

He won't be happy to see what a mess I've done to his hair, I thought to myself and almost laughed, but suddenly, I wondered when I fell asleep.

While I pondered on that thought, it was then when I brought my eyes up to look around, in what I thought was my room, but was stupefied to find out that it wasn't. A slight gasp escaped from between my lips as my mouth hung ajar when I came to realize that I was resting in what looked like to be a hospital room—on a hospital bed instead of the one I had at home. My breathing increased as I examined my surroundings some more, which made my lungs feel heavy and hot like it was being weighed down by freshly boiled rocks. When turning my head, I noticed that my cheek felt like it was being pulled, so with my jittering hand, I felt it and after tracing it I knew that it was a tube that went down my nose. It stuck to my cheek, thanks to some tape. And, of course, I couldn't forget about the classic IV machine that stood tall beside me, pumping clear fluids into my veins, or the smell of hand sanitizer that left the room smelling fresh, or even the sound of the occasional beeping from the machine that just now registered into my brain. Why couldn't I hear it before? What's wrong with me? Why do I feel so. . . weak. . . so slow?

I began to feel frightened because of the unknown. When did I get here, and why? And... and why was it sunny outside, I thought that it was raining? Why do I feel so confused?

I turned my neck towards Thomas' direction immediately after I heard a light groan that came from him. I gently rubbed the side of his face with my thumb because it looked like he was going back to sleep, which I didn't want. I wanted to ask him when I got here and why because I have no recollection, at all, as to how I came here or why. . . and it scared me.

"T–Thomas," I whispered with a weak voice. Unfortunately, when I spoke my throat and my chest felt as if they were being ground by sandpaper. It was painful, but I tried to ignore the raw feeling the best I could. "Thomas, w–wake up."

A few moments later was when he finally decided to open his beautiful gray eyes, which widened as soon as they met my own. He became still; it was like someone struck him with a frozen spell while he stared at me.

Why was he staring at me like that?

"Thomas? What's... what's wrong? Why do you look... so..." it was difficult to think of a proper word. "...shocked?"

He quickly sat up in his chair, his eyes never left mine.

"Dawn?" he questioned then paused and continued to look down at me with frazzled eyes.

"Yes?–"

"You're awake," he said quickly before I could come up with something else to say. Thomas swallowed unsurely, however, in the next second he cracked out a large and grateful smile. "You're finally awake! I can't... I can't believe it." I was about to speak but the next thing I knew, he had already leaned over the bed and embraced me. "I thought you'd stay asleep forever."

Now I was even more bewildered. Why was he so excited that I was awake? I'm getting the feeling like something bad happened to me and I swear the answer is biting onto my fishing hook, however, I'm unable to reel it in. All I can remember is rain. A very heavy rain.

"Why... can't you believe it? Where's my mom, anyway?" I asked, eying him seriously. "And do you know why I'm in the hospital? Did... something happen to me?"

"Your mum... she came to visit you earlier but had to leave for work." He took a second to clear his throat then grasped my trembling hand. "Wait a minute, so you don't remember what happened?"

"No, or at least I don't think so. All I remember is things outside being dark and wet. It was raining outside the last I remember but now it's sunny." I said and held my head. "I feel so... loopy."

"It could be the medication that could be making you feel this way. Maybe once it wears off is when you'll remember."

"Medication? Medication for what? Is it chemo?"

"No... no, it's not chemo, it's–" he paused just when he was about to say it, which annoyed me, of course.

"It's what?" When I realized that he was reluctant to tell me, I gave a large sigh, which almost triggered a cough but I held it in. "Thomas, enough games. What happened to me?'

He gave a small smile. "Hey, can this wait until you become bit more awake? You seem half asleep to me," he said calmly all the while gently massaging the hand he held. "Why don't you rest while I go tell the doctor that you've woken up. That'll give you some time to have a small nap."

"But... I don't want to wait. I wanna know now," I whined and although I was irritated by him not wanting to tell me, I couldn't deny that he was right about me needing some more time to rest. My body felt exhausted.

"You will. Soon. But not now," he said, standing up then out of nowhere kissed my hand, which immediately made my cheeks burn. "Ah, I still can't believe you're up; it's like a dream." Thomas went to the door and before he left I heard him say, "I need to call your mum."

"Wait!" I croaked out, but it was too late; he had already left.

I once again relaxed back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Like Thomas had suggested, I tried to take a nap because maybe he's right when he says that it could make me feel better, however, before sleep overwhelmed my eyes, I remembered Adam having wings and flying me above thousands of beautifully colored flowers. I felt as weightless as a feather while in his arms.

The tree, the house, the memory of my father, the light—everything slammed back into my brain. My mind tried to convince me that it was just a dream but I refuted the thought. The memory felt too real. I still remember the way the wind caressed my face while in the sky—it was. . . comforting.

I wanted to think of these things some more, unfortunately, when sleep finally came there was no forcing her to go back. I'd only be fighting against myself.

***
When I was awoken, I saw Thomas standing beside me but there was a new face I hadn't yet seen before. I quickly assumed that he was the doctor after realizing that he wore a stethoscope around his neck and held a clipboard in his hand, which he'd placed on the small rectangular table that was beside me.

The doctor had a smooth and handsome looking face. He also possessed dark hair and light brown eyes and didn't look too young nor too old, however it did seem to me that the maturity required for his job, prematurely aged his face just a tad more than it should have been, so I guessed him to be around his late thirties or even early forties.

After introducing himself as doctor Singh, he shook my hand and expressed how glad he was to see that I was no longer in a coma, but then he also apologized for having to wake me from my nap. I quickly brushed it off and said that it wasn't a big deal. But then after my reply he went on to explain why I was here and what happened to me. The whole time he spoke I was quiet—I didn't need to speak—he answered all of my questions as if he knew of them beforehand.

I came to understand that it was the medicine for my lungs that made me feel drowsy and weak. Corticosteroids were the drugs that were used—it's a pretty heavy medication, but it's been in use to rid my lungs from the infection quicker than if I were to just be given antibiotics alone. 

When he had finished speaking I believed every word he'd said. Everything came back to me, however, I was a bit taken aback to hear that I had pneumonia and that I've been in a coma for a little over a week—nine days to be exact.

That's why my lungs have felt the way they have!

I began to feel anxious, but realizing this, the doctor quickly told me not to worry, saying that it was getting better and that it should clear up within just another week, which relieved me.

Doctor Singh went on to collect my vital signs then explained to me that a nurse would enter my room shortly to remove my feeding tube, hopefully before lunch would be served. He left soon after.

I turned to Thomas and immediately when my eyes landed on his, he smiled softly, in a reassuring way—one that told me everything was going to be fine and that there was no need to worry. He half-stood from his chair and grabbed underneath it, pulling it closer toward my bed. I breathed out nervously when he took my cold hand into his warm ones and lightly caressed it in a comforting way. Even though it was a sweet gesture, I was still taken aback by his tenderness.

"How are you feeling?" he asked without taking his eyes away from mine for not even a second. I began to wonder if he'd stopped blinking since the doctor left.

"Huh? Oh, I'm... I'm feeling alright," I said bashfully then quickly looked away from him as I cleared my throat. 

It was in that short moment when I hastily bagan to wonder why I, all of the sudden, felt awkward, hesitant, or even shy around Thomas. Maybe it was because of the memory I saw Thomas inside of. It opened my eyes to how he might feel about me.

He searched for me everywhere he thought possible and braved the rain that fought against him—it didn't cause him to wavier even in the slightest way. Remembering the action of him holding my lifeless body close to his, protecting me from the rain and all, just made my heart swell; also, and how much he seemed to care about my wellbeing.

However I may feel about this, the question still remains. Does he truly like me or was he just being a good friend, one that everyone needs to have in this world?

His smile widened. "That's good," he said softly, "do you think you have more strength than you did before?" I nodded my head and returned his smile. "I'm glad to hear that. Hopefully you'll be able to get outta here pretty soon. I've only been coming here for nine days, yet, I'm already sick of this place."

I scoffed with a slight smirk. "Yeah,  imagine how I might feel. The hospital... it's been a constant thing for me for six years and now I can say that I'm honestly almost numb to it. Did you call my mom?"

"Ah, yeah. She said she'll find a way to get off work as soon as she can; and I'm sorry you've went through that and I'm hoping desperately that you won't have to visit the hospital frequently like you have in the past," he said and I nodded my head, saying 'yeah' under my breath. "And I forgot to mention earlier, that what actually was worse than just coming repeatedly to a depressing hospital was... seeing someone I–" he paused, seeming as if he was at a loss for words, but then he quickly finished, saying, "...someone that I deeply care about going through something no one should ever have to."

"Really?" I asked, not being able to keep my shock and blush hidden. The fact that he added deeply made what he said more intimate than it would've been if he'd left it out. "Thank you... that's... sweet of you to say."

"Of course," he said, laughing lightly. "Why is it such a surprise that I care for you?"

"Oh, um, I...I don't know. I guess it was just some sort–"

"Nevermind my question," he dismissed, finally releasing my hand and then sat back into his chair. "You know what, I wanna take you out somewhere nice once you're allowed to leave the hospital. You deserve it. I–I was thinking something like a picnic or something like that." His face was full of determination.

"Th–that would be nice, but I don't even know if I'm really able to be outside for a long time. My immune system had be weakened, remember?"

"Then... how about I bring the outside inside of your house then."

"What? How is that even possible?"

"I have no idea, but don't worry I'll find a way!"

I was about to reply but that was when there was a knock on the door. It was the nurse. She came in, all smiles, and explained what she was going to do. When she had finished speaking she kindly asked if Thomas could leave and sit out in the waiting room until she was done.

He agreed and stood up, but as he closed the door behind him, a question ran through my mind.

What has gotten into him?