Niall P.O.V

There’s something about stark white that makes me uncomfortable. I figure it’s because the colour is so bland and open that there is no place for anything to hide. In fact from what I can gather I don’t like the colour white at all. It’s aggravating really, it’s like it just sits there waiting for someone to dirty it, to mess up its cleanliness. I feel that as soon as someone plucks up the courage to ruin its spotlessness there would be hell to pay. Because why would someone act so careless? Perhaps that’s human nature, to destroy anything that is pure and clean. Perhaps that’s just life. I don’t think I like the fact that everything on that blank canvas is out for the world to see. I don’t like being the centre of attention; I don’t want to let people down.

These thoughts don’t sound as if they belong to me. But I thought them, so who else’s could they possibly be? Why am I seeing white anyway? I can’t even remember what I’d been doing before the whiteness obscured my vision. Perhaps the white is a metaphor, for what though? For myself? How am I like a blank white canvas? For life maybe? No I don’t think so. Since when have I thought about things in such depth? Metaphors were always something that I understood but told myself I had no time to hide behind them, because that’s no way to live. I don’t see how metaphors could be better than real life.

This all seems very strange to me. Why am I seeing white? I don’t understand. I feel like I was doing something important beforehand, but for the life of me I can’t figure out what it was. Perhaps it wasn’t so important then. I think I’m lying down, it’s hard to tell. I’ll just continue to wade through this never ending white, hoping that I’ll soon break through it. Perhaps then I’ll remember what the feeling is that’s constantly nagging in my brain. I can feel things to. Like the weight of a wool blanket over the length of my body, I shift my weight slightly to the right, I can move at least a little bit. Noises start to pierce my ears; I tune in more closely to them. It’s not the sound of talking, more like beeping. Like the sound of machines. Why would I be around machines? I attempt to move again, I slowly shift myself into a sitting position, before a wave of dizziness comes over me and the white is chased out by a black that doesn’t look at all friendly. I feel my back hit softness as I pass out.

~~.~~

I awake sometime later; at least I think it’s later, to a swirling nausea in the pit of my stomach. My vision still obscured by blackness, as I try desperately to find a bucket. My jolting movements cause the nausea to grow more until my hands skim something bucket shaped next to me. Without hesitation I grab it and throw up. To my horror it does nothing to ease my stomach. I lay my head back against what feels like pillows and try to will the feeling away. My stomach rolls as if I was currently seated on one of those carnivals rides that tumble through loop after loop. I open my eyes slowly surprised that they’re now beginning to adjust to the darkness of the room I’m in. They flit from wall to wall, to the machines next to me, to the occupied bed several meters away from mine. My nose is assaulted by the smell I hate the most. Hospital. But what am I doing in a hospital? I’m hooked up to more than one machine so it must be pretty serious. I try to sit up again, but a sharp pain in my ribs and shoulder forces me to be still. I lift the thick hospital blanket with my other arm, moving the hospital gown to the side as best I can I see my torso and right shoulder wrapped tightly in bandages. From the pain it caused me to move my left side I suspect those bandages to be covering deep cuts and purple bruises. Was I in some sort of fight?

I lower the blanket again moving my attention to the body occupying the bed next to mine. I can’t see much due to the position I’m currently laying in except that they’re lying on their side facing away from me covered mostly by their own blanket. The only discerning feature I can make out is chocolate brown hair, but even that was half obscured by a bandage that was wrapped through it. Was this person in the same incident I was in? Did we fight? They begin to stir as I look on at them. The blanket falls slightly and due to this person apparently not wearing their hospital gown I can make out their shoulder and back. In the darkness I can clearly see the deep purple bruises and fresh grazes that span the entire area. Their neck has a few deeper cuts that all look relatively serious to my untrained eye. It was as if this person was pushed onto their neck and left shoulder and held there. They attempt to move again, this time rolling to the other side. They get onto their back with little difficulty before proceeding to turn to face me. A piercing cry fills the room as they move, I let out a surprised gasp without realising and their eyes snap open to stare at me. Bright emerald is all I can see before I realise I’m staring. I stare up at the ceiling for a minute embarrassed for being caught, before my eyes drift back over to him. A slight smirk graces one side of his mouth as he stares at me.

“Hey,” he says casually, as if to an old friend.

Shocked out of the intense stare all I can reply with is, “Hey.”

“I’m glad you’re finally awake, Niall. I’ve been waiting for hours. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to, it’s boring in here,” He says, trying to move again but thinking better of it.

“Do you know what happened?” I ask cautiously.

“Still groggy from the medication I see,” he says jokingly, before his tone becomes more serious. “It was a car accident two nights ago. A truck ran a red light, and due to the rain couldn’t stop in time so it slammed into the car. Which is why I’m so glad you’re awake. The doctors said that you should wake up, but they also said that you’re injuries are severe. You came out of the accident the worst.”

“Well I’m glad we weren’t in a fight,” I reply.
He looks confused for a moment, before smiling slightly. “No, I can’t imagine you being in an actual fight.”

I’m mock offended. “And why not?” I demand

He thought for a moment. “Actually no I take that back. You can get pretty lethal when you’re mad.”

Okay, now I’m confused. What is he talking about?

When I don’t reply he continues. “Look, Niall. I’m so sorry about what happened. I swear that if I could go back and change it I would in a second, but unfortunately for me it doesn’t work like that. I just have to live with it. And I know you’re only being civil with me because of all the medication that’s been pumped into your system, but I need you to know just how sorry I am. I promised myself four years ago that I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you again, but I failed and I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” His eyes look shiny from the tears that were about to spill down his cheeks. I feel bad for him, I really do.

“Did the truck hit me as well?” I ask, completely confused.

He scrunches his forehead together as he studies my face. “What? The truck hit us both, Niall. You were in my car. We were yelling at each other and I took my eyes off the road for a second, just a second, I didn’t see the truck until it had already hit us.” He looks concerned.

“Okay, that all sounds logical. Except for one bit,” He waits for me to continue. “Why was I in your car?”

He stares at me intently for a few seconds before saying slowly. “You were walking in the street and I picked you up to apologise for lying to you. That’s when we got into an argument.”

But why would I be in his car? “Okay I guess that all makes sense too.”

I see him physically let out a sigh of relief.
There was one more thing that was nagging at me. “But just one more thing. Who are you?”

His eyes widen, as a look of pure shock crosses his face.

“How do you know me?”

Notes

It would be really nice to know if people actually enjoy this story, so please leave a comment or something. Even if you hate it.

Enjoy.

p.s. What do you thinks happened?