Adelaide

I don't know how they can handle it. Or maybe they're just doing a better job of hiding it from the world. Justin's been in there so long it's the afternoon already and we haven't heard a thing. I'm starting to panic. I should have asked Justin more questions about this surgery. Like how long it takes.

Mom, Helene, and Chris are sitting around the small table as we sip our coffees. Even though I disapproved, Helene said the best thing to do is walk around while waiting so the time doesn't feel like years instead of hours. Years is a freaking understatement. It feels like eons since the nurse walked me out after Justin fell asleep.

Part of me wishes they would sneak me some of whatever Justin breathed in so I could sleep instead of wait.

I begin to play with the lid of my coffee, glancing at the time on my phone.

Helene, clearly noticing how stressed I am, reaches out and squeezes my free hand. "The operation should be done by now. They normally wait for him to wake up in the ICU before letting us know. It's a precaution so they can make sure everything is okay."

I nod even though her words don't calm me very well. All I can see is the panic Justin was trying to hide from me before he slipped under. I can understand why he hates this so much. Knowing that anaesthetics basically freeze your body is scary enough. I can't imagine what it's like.

"I know," I reply, glancing at Chris. "It's scary."

Chris nods. He hasn't said much, but I can tell he's worried about his brother because he keeps looking over his shoulder at the hallway we used to find the Starbucks in the hospital.

"It is," Mom agrees, rubbing my back. "But Justin is in good hands, Addie. They may have made a mistake" – she glances at Helene – "but at least they still have the opportunity to fix it."

Now, I know my mom is forgiving, but when I told her what Justin told me about the team making a mistake, I could tell she was livid. In fact, I heard her rant to Dad later that evening about how unfair it is for Justin. So, clearly, Helene must have said something to her at some point.

"We should go back," Chris says out of the blue. "What if Justin wakes up and we're not there?"

Helene wraps an arm around her son's shoulders and pulls him close. His cheeks turn pink, but he doesn't try to escape the hug. "Chris," Helene says. "Your brother is barely going to know up from down when he wakes up, which is why the doctors take him to the ICU and let him adjust before calling us in. So, no matter what, he is going to wake up without any of us there. But don't worry about him, okay? He can do it."

Getting a little teary-eyed, Chris nods and goes back to his hot chocolate, but not before he looks at me. I give him a small nod. Justincan do this. He will make it. And the seizures will never come back.

I know I can't make the last promise, but I can hope and wish it will come true because Justin deserves a permanent break from all this medical drama. He deserves to know what it's like to drive a vehicle on the highway. What it's like to eat as much cake as you want on your birthday. He deserves everything a typical teenage boy is supposed to have.

* * *

Half an hour passes before we're allowed to see Justin in the ICU.

I want to see him more than anything, but as we step through the doors, I find myself holding my breath in anticipation. I don't know if I can handle seeing the stitches. And are they at least going to have cleaned away some of the blood? I certainly hope so.

In any normal situation, this type of stuff – blood, stitches, and anything remotely gory – wouldn't bother me. But this is Justin – someone I care about more than the oxygen I breathe. It's painful to see him go through this.

Yet I keep walking. I keep walking because I promised I would stay with him.

His bed is the last one on the left and surrounded by machinery that I can and can't recognize. The first things I notice about him are how many IVs are poking through his skin – the one in his left hand, along with three others; there's one in his forearm, right hand, and the final one is in his foot. I suppress a shudder. One IV is okay with me. But four? My God.

Finally, I look at Justin. My eyes instantly hone in on the stitches and my next breath snags on something in my lungs. He must have about sixty stitches along what used to be a thin line of scar tissue. Only now, instead of it being a blanched white, it's an aggressive red with black crisscrosses in it. There's even a bit of blood smudged around. Though my curiosity peaks, wondering how much the incision bled during surgery, my stomach flips and I look away. Instead, I focus on his handsome face.

Right now, his eyes are closed but his lashes are fluttering against his defined cheekbones so I know he's awake. And, minus the stitches and the paleness of his cheeks, Justin looks normal.

When we're all surrounding the bed, I reach for Justin's hand, wanting to touch him just so I know this is real. A sliver of me is still lost in limbo, scared that the surgery has gone array and Justin didn't make it. That, however, fades as soon as my hand touches his and he opens his eyes.

Though I do feel bad for stealing the attention from his mom, I'm beyond happy that he's awake and chasing away my bad thoughts.

"Hey, Justin," I whisper, taking his hand in mine, carefully avoiding the IV.

He blinks. "You're here."

Although I know he's high as heck on painkillers, I still laugh. After everything, that's the first thing he says? Smiling, I nod my head. "Of course I am. I promised I'd stay with you, didn't I?"

He gives me a half-effort half shrug and I have to bite my lip. I shouldn't be laughing, but it is kind of funny seeing Justin so relaxed. I'm not saying he's incapable of it when he's not high on painkillers or anything like that – he can relax. I just find it amusing that he kind of reminds me of a limp noodle. And it's not just his mannerisms that have slacked. It's his eyelids and voice. He's like the very definition of drowsy.

"How bad do I look?" he asks, his voice extra soft and quiet.

I glance at the stitches. "Not bad at all."

He snorts. "You just wait, Addie – I'm going to look like I got the shit beat out of me by the time I get back to Kelowna."

"Justin," Helene inputs. "Watch your language around your little brother."

Lazily, Justin lets his head fall to the side so he can look at his mom. "Oh, hey, Mom," he says. "How's it doing?"

I choke on a laugh and Mom elbows me in the ribs. I lean over and whisper in her ear as Justin makes conversation with his family. "Can you blame me?" I whisper. "He's funny when he's high."

Mom smiles, shaking her head. "Yes," she replies. "He is. Actually, he reminds me of you when you got your wisdom teeth pulled. Very chatty. But you still shouldn't be laughing. He's on these painkillers for a reason, Addie. Don't forget that."

I nod in an apologetic manner. She's right. I'm sure in the future, when I talk about this with Justin, he'll laugh. But we're in the now. This is serious. I sober myself up to the best of my ability.

"You don't have to stay here tonight, Mom," Justin says. "It's just going to be another long, loooong night of needing water and having regular check-ups done. Wouldn't want you to lose your beauty sleep."

Helene smiles. "Thank you, Justin."

I smile this time, holding back the laughter. Justin already discussed this with Helene on the way to the hospital this morning.

Justin, noticing Chris standing next to their mom, says, "Hey little bro, what's up?"

Chris, who looks like he's walking on eggshells, gives Justin a small smile and an update. While their exchange goes on, I notice that Chris keeps looking at the stitches embedded in Justin's skin and at the incision itself. It must be a lot for him to take it. I wonder if he even remembers Justin's first surgery.

I mentally slap myself. Of course he doesn't – he was with their dad during the first one. How could I be so stupid? Chris only saw the aftermath. It makes my heart ache. How could a man be that self-centred that he wouldn't let Chris be there to support his older brother? It's ridiculous. Thank God he's here this time.

For the next hour, we all sit around the bed and chat with Justin. With each minute that passes, I become more and more comfortable with the situation. He's doing really well. In fact, a nurse named Davis who only looks a few years older than Justin and I, gives him a couple of popsicles to eat. It takes him a while because he's so loopy, but the eating is a very good sign according to my mom. He should be back to eating solid food by the time he's out of the ICU. The very thought warms my heart. It means he's already begun the healing process.

When an hour and a half has passed, though, Justin's energy begins to diminish rapidly. Who can blame him, though? His poor body must feel like it's taken a beating. Sometimes we can't comprehend how hard our bodies work to heal us, but I think anyone would agree that Justin's body is currently performing miracles. Heck, it's going to be doing that for the next three months.

Just think about it: the bones fuse back together, scar tissue develops, the skin repairs itself, his hair is growing back, and his immune system is fighting off any potentially harmful bacteria. It's amazing.

"I think I need to sleep," Justin finally says, rubbing his tired eyes. "You guys can go if you want to. There's not much to do here." His last sentence is paired with an eye roll.

"Bored but exhausted, hey?" Chris asks.

"Man," Justin smiles. "You know it. Fucking exhausted."

Helene sighs, and Mom chuckles. "I don't think you're going to get very far with the swearing at the moment, Helene. The painkillers he's on are very strong. I doubt he's going to remember much of his time in the ICU, actually," Mom says.

Justin shrugs. "Shit's good. But seriously – go get some sleep and eat some food." He pauses. "I guess the second one should come first. Unless you somehow learned to eat in your sleep. That would be wicked."

Chris clamps a hand over his mouth and I cough to cover up a laugh. I know this is serious, but he's just too cute when he's high.

It takes ten minutes for us to say our goodbyes, but that's mainly because Chris doesn't seem to want to leave his brother behind. He keeps asking what would happen if something went wrong and stuff like that. Helene, Justin, and Mom assure him that everything will be okay.

Just as we're ready to head out the doors, Justin asks if I can stay behind for a moment.

"Alone," he adds when Helene stops to look over her shoulder.

"Yes," I reply, sitting down in my chair. I glance at our moms and Chris. "I'll meet you by the Starbucks."

Within the next minute, it's just me and Justin. Well...it sort of is. There are still other patients in the ICU, along with visitors and nurses, but in this small space, it's just the two of us. I take his hand in mine, wary of the IV. "How are you feeling?" I ask.

He gives me a lazy smile. "Better now that it's just you."

Even when he's high as a freaking kite, he can be charming as heck. I blush a little. "Shut up."

"I'd rather not," he replies, reaching up to trace my cheekbone. "I could stay up all night listing what I love about you."

"I think you'd pass out before you got to the fifth point," I tease.

He sighs, letting his body slouch against the pillows. "Probably. I'm fucking exhausted."

I give him a small smile, but that smile quickly fades when I realize he's crying. "Justin?" I ask. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replies, sounding nasally.

I begin to panic. "Does your head hurt? Are the painkillers not working?"

He chuckles, but it's not a normal chuckle. It sounds like it's in slow motion. "Addie. Calm down – I'm fine, okay?"

"Then why are you crying?" I whisper, wiping away a tear.

He closes his eyes and sighs. "Because it's over," he whispers. "The surgery. No more dealing with the anticipation. No more tests. I'm done."

He's practically sobbing by the time he finishes his sentence. His crying worries me because of how tired you usually feel after a good cry, but then I realize that he might need this. Allowing that mask to be placed over his mouth and nose took a lot of courage, just like simply walking into the operating room did. He's only human – we all need to break sometimes. And I think Justin should be allowed to cry and let go of everything that's been bottled up inside of him.

I wish I could climb into bed beside him and hold him, but I can't.

So I grip his hand as tightly as I can without affecting the IV and let him cry. I feel like I'm going to start crying at any moment, but the nears never come. How can I cry when I'm so proud of him for being brave enough to face all this?

Eventually, he stops crying, looking ten times more exhausted than he did before. He's so tired that he closes his eyes as he speaks. "I don't want you to go, but I want you to."

I frown, confused. "Uh, okay."

"Sorry," he sighs. "That makes no sense. I want you to stay, but I know it'll be a rough night if you do. You should go find the others and go back to the hotel, Addie. Get some rest. I'll be here in the morning."

I look down at the bedsheets, smiling like an idiot. Even when he's like this he still thinks about others.

Getting to my feet, I lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips. I want more, but I don't think he can handle it at the moment. "I'll see you in the morning, then, okay?"

With his eyes still closed, Justin nods, murmuring something incoherent as he slips out of consciousness.

Before I leave, I decide I'm going to leave something behind. So, taking off the necklace Mom and Dad bought me for my sixteenth birthday, I fasten it around Justin's neck. The silver pinecone pendant glimmers beneath the fluorescent lighting.

As much as I want to stay, I know there's nothing much I can do to help him. The nurses in the ICU will take care of him while the rest of us are gone.

Pressing one last kiss to his forehead, I exit the ICU, leaving a piece of me with him. I might not be able to stay with him physically, but hopefully, the necklace is enough for when he wakes up again.

No matter what, my heart is with him.