Slow (adjective): lasting or taking a long time.

Now

Montana

When there is a tragedy, when every second on the clock matters and when you are waiting to hear if the one you love made it, it all slows down. It gets harder to breathe, the clock moves slower, your blood flows slower, your brain processes things at a speed that is beyond painful and somehow you slowly, but surely, come to the realization that it could not get worse than this.

But if you're me, you don't realize, so sometimes you have to have people in your life who tell you that in fact, it will not get worse than this. Sierra was the one who said it to me after she ran in through the emergency doors like a storm and was at my side before either of us could get another word out.

Her arms wrap around me, cocooning me in her warmth and she doesn't ask any questions—because she knows. "It doesn't get worse than this, trust me." It's an odd thing to say to someone who can't stop shaking, someone who might be told that her loved one didn't make it, but Sierra has felt it all and somehow she still has enough strength left to hold me still. So maybe it doesn't get worse than this.

"He was so pale." I murmur into her shoulder as the doctor who was prodding at my feet quietly stands to leave, giving us a knowing smile. Sierra nudges at me a bit and I move to the side so she can sit on the bed. "If he is gone, you will feel it, somehow you always do. Its like the fates apologizing for doing you wrong. An early warning."

All I think of is the last thing I told him, that I did not love him. Did he really jump off that bridge? He wouldn't have.

"Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?" I ask her, staring up at the ceiling while the emergency doors open again, another flurry of activity and shouts taking over. "GSW to the chest!"

I shut my eyes, pleading at my mind to function. "We don't do this to ourselves, life does this to us." Sierra's fingers comb through my matted hair, almost at a rhythm with the pounding in my head. Why was there always someone hurt? If we were going to die anyway, why do we need all these tragedies down the road?

"Where is he?" Luke's voice is sharp as it rings into my skull, his footsteps like bullets. I can't face him, how do I tell him the last thing I said to his best friend was that I did not love him? I can feel Sierra move away to climb off the bed."No one has said anything yet."

I keep my eyes closed, the tears leaking out of the closed lids and streaming down the sides of my face. No matter how hard I try, all I can see is his skin—pale like the life was sucked out of him completely.

Someone takes my hand, and a gentle weight of a hand rests on my forehead. "Montana?" Ashton's voice is strained with worry, "—are you alright?" Another one of his best friends that I couldn't look in the eye and apologize to.

More tears escape as I nod, I owed them that much. The emergency doors open again, another gust of wind making me shiver harder. Was Calum cold? Was there water filling his lungs instead of air? If I squeezed my eyes tight enough would I see him now?

Somewhere between the time where I open my eyes again and my body finally stops shaking, the doors to the hospital are barricaded and shut against fans and paparazzi. They start to scream just outside the walls and despite the doors being closed, I can still hear them.

It's a reminder, because sometimes I forget that I'm not the only one who loves him. A whole world out there is waiting to see if he would be alright. A sliver of fear makes its way into the slowness of my being, millions of people who will never forgive me.

I'm moved to a quieter room where everyone sits around in tense silence, waiting, and it is strong enough to swallow me whole, just like the water must have swallowed Calum. Was he craving the silence? "Sierra," I can hear myself say, but my voice feels strange, alien.

She shoots up from her chair where she is sat at my side, shaking herself out of the place deep in her head where she had disappeared to. "Yeah, I'm here. Do you need anything?" she asks with motherly concern.

Before I can find my words to answer, a man in blue scrubs walks into the room, looking around at all of us. "Hello, I'm Dr. Avery. Calum's Doctor." He is young and serious, too serious for his age. He ties his hands behind his back lightly and my heart drops, fear stabbing it to the depths.

No one says a thing, no one breathes. "Calum is fine, and alive." My fists unclench the bed sheet and the tension in my body leaves, a collective sigh of relief going through the little hospital room. But then I remember how they always save the worst for last and my eyes are back on the doctors face, I won't believe it till I see it for myself. "Can I see him?"

"Well, he is over the worst part of it, his body is functioning well to stimuli but—"

Luke interrupts, clenching the metal railing of the bed, his hand reddening. "Tell me he's not fucking brain dead too." Sierra gasps a little, unable to contain it.

The doctor turns to him, "—No, he's not brain dead, his brain activity is quite strong actually but he seems to be...asleep."

"Asleep?" Michael speaks for the first time since they got here from a corner in the room where he was staring out the window earlier.

"Calum is very lucky to have survived this, his body may heal but I need to remind you that his brain may not. An incident like this, most of the time,  leads to severe shock. I'm not saying that to alarm you, we don't know anything yet for sure, we just know that he is alive and responsive and once his body temperature has climbed we will be able to move him to a room so that you can visit him."

"He is alive though, right?" All the faces in the room turn to me, the doctor smiles. "Yes, yes he is."

---

Calum

It's a stab right into my chest, then it's earth shattering like someone is dragging the sword down my body, ripping at the seams of my skin. I'm being set on fire from the inside out, my blood screaming and bursting in their vessels.

There is something solid and heavy stuck down my throat, my muscles clenching to drag in air, but I don't need air. I need water, I need ice to fill me again and stop whatever this is from burning me to death.

My eyes open, but they are no good, all I see are four brightly illuminated circles, blurry and shining down into my eyes painfully. "Calum? Hey buddy, hey..."

I can't speak! I want to scream, but there is something stuck down my fucking throat. Someone blocks the four circles of light above me and I try to focus on their face, "You're at the hospital, you're okay now. Don't panic and don't try to talk, we're going to get you all fixed up okay buddy? Just hold on for me."

There is a sudden large pressure at my chest and the muscles of my throat clench, straining to let out a scream. The sounds, yells and beeps of machines blur together, my pain louder than all the noise. I close my eyes, swallowing the scream and giving in to the impending darkness as the lights move away, their illumination fading slowly into complete darkness.

I can still hear the sounds, the beeps and the shouts of my name. Was I dying? The noises are like screams, screams that I know like the back of hand, people—millions of them—looking up at me on stage with light glowing in their eyes. The familiar weight of my guitar, the strings fitting into the scarred lines of my skin like they are at home.

The burning in my chest spreads to the rest of my body and it gets too hard to see the light. Hold on.

---

Montana

The tension seems to dial down a bit after the doctor leaves, everyone's glad that he is alive, but I'm afraid that he may not truly ever be alive again. It was a dreadful feeling so I manage to slip into a pair of paper thin hospital slippers despite Sierra's protests. "I need to be alone, please."

I needed to be alone, in open air, surrounded by the elements. The room is on a corridor filled with similar doors and there is an elevator at the end of it. I make my way towards it, feeling like I'm walking on glass with each step, my eyes trained on the floor to mask the pain.

I can bare this, I think, I can bare a few scratches compared to what he must be feeling. The elevator ride up to the top floor seems to take forever, "Do you happen to have a rooftop?" I turn to the only other person in the elevator, a nurse with his hands in the pockets of his scrubs.

He raises an eyebrow, "And what do you need a rooftop for?"

"I'm not going to kill myself, if that's what you're wondering. I just need some fresh air." I rest my head on the cold metal, feeling it vibrate under my temple.

"That's what they all say. You can get some air, just walk out the front doors like a normal person." He points out, cracking a smile to show that he does not mean this in a rude way.

"Thousands of fans are currently surrounding those doors you speak of, for my boyfriend, who is not even my boyfriend, who might not wake up and be himself again, which might I add the nice doctor didn't want to mention but you see, despite fucking everything else up, I happen to be able to read people." I drop my arms to my sides, exasperated.

The nurse is quiet, his eyes widened a little but he schools it into nonchalance before he says, "In that case, we have a whole greenhouse on the tenth floor," his smile is sympathetic now. "I'm sorry about your boyfriend–friend?"

"He's alive." I tell him, like I am proud of it, like its the answer to everything.

The doors open to the floor that he clicked on when he got in and he walks out, turning back just before the doors close behind him, "Hope you like the plants and, uh, don't punish yourself for anything, ever."

The elevator goes up another three floors and I step out through a glass door on the left with directions from a security guard. It leads to an incredible greenhouse and the relief in my chest is palpable as a sob leaves me, the nurses words wrapped around me like a warm blanket. "Don't punish yourself for anything, ever." The words form on my lips and I revel in the strength they bring.

The setting sun shines in through the glass, illuminating the space. If I listen close I could probably hear all the plants stretching, leaning in towards the light for some final warmth before they have to bare the cold of a long night.

Another glass door leads out to a little balcony and when I open it, I can hear the noise. I peak my head down to see people, everywhere.

There is a chorus going through the crowd, a tune being sung, a prayer. I hope they don't look up and see me as I join them, unseen but present, gripping the ledge as the sun lowers in the horizon faster and faster.

"Come back to us, Calum."

A/N

I KNOW, I'm the absolute worst! For making you guys wait so long for this and it wasn't even that interesting but wahoo! He's alive!...at least, let's hope.

I am now on my summer break so I will try my best to update every week even twice a week if I manage to figure out what is wrong with me. I've been really sick lately, both physically and emotionally and the news we keep getting isn't happy either. We've lost so many souls this past week, innocent people who just wanted to celebrate and do the things they love. I don't like writing long authors notes because no one likes reading them but please, wherever you are in the world, please PLEASE be safe. Seems like our older generations have not quite gotten over their egos and phobias yet so never let your guard down, avoid crowded spaces as much as you can, even if it makes you a loner and be happy, always.

I love you very much x