Out on the street, under the streetlight, Tyler waited nervously as Andy burst out of The Pitstop.

"Thank fucking god," Andy said, beginning to roll a cigarette.

"So... um, we need to talk?"

"Hmmm?" mumbled Andy, lighting his cigarette.

"You said we needed to get out of there, to talk."

"Yeah man, sorry crowded gay bars aren't usually my scene. I want to be able to hear you, you know?"

Tyler sighed with relief. "So we don't NEED to talk."

"Um, I don't think so?" Andy said cautiously. "Do we?"

That's when Charlie came running out of the bar. Before Tyler could call him over to introduce him to Andy, he stopped in the street, looked back, and was struck by a car going west on Belmont. The impact sent Charlie flying into the hood of a car that was going south on Clark. He rolled onto the street, limp and lifeless.

A shocked cry of primal anguish escaped Tyler's mouth as he ran over to Charlie and Andy called 911.

*

"How is he?" texted Steve from the bar.

"He's in the ICU. They haven't told us anything yet," Hunter texted back.

"I should be there."

"No, you should be at the opening. Charlie would be pissed if you didn't stay."

"Please keep me posted."

Hunter looked up from his phone. Tyler was pale and quiet with shock. The boy he'd brought with him had his arm around him. The twinky femme boy that claimed he was friends with Charlie came back from the hallway.

"Alright," said twinky femme boy. "I texted all of our mutual friends in case they want to visit him if he wakes up."

"When he wakes up," said Hunter, more to Tyler than the random friend. The doctor's face as he approached the motley crew was grim. "How's it looking, doc?"

"Charles is out of the woods. For now. I'm afraid, I can't disclose anymore. Has his next of kin been notified?"

"I Facebooked his sister," said random twink friend.

"Good. Are... um... one of you his... partner?"

"I am." Hunter said without hesitation.

The doctor motioned for Hunter to walk with him, away from the group. "He's suffering from intracranial hemorrhaging and we're worried about edema."

"English, Doc. Please."

"Well, simply put, his brain is bleeding and we're afraid of swelling." The doctor cleared his throat nervously. "I have to prepare you for the worst. If he does wake up... "

"When," insisted Hunter.

"IF he does wake up... there might be some... neurological damage."

"What does that mean?"

"He might be impaired. Permanently."

"But there's a chance that he could be completely fine."

The doctor was quiet for a moment. "Would you like to see him?"

It didn't matter how many machines he was hooked up to, Charlie looked like he was hanging on by a thread. Peaceful and quiet, for once, not unlike the morning after that night they randomly hooked up, when Hunter woke up for no reason and just watched him sleep. Alone for the first time all night, Hunter slowly started to pace by Charlie's bed.

"So I'm gonna tell you this once, before anyone else gets a chance to talk to you. Fuck you. How could've you been so stupid? How could you just run out into... " Hunter stopped pacing, took a breath, and knelt by the bed. "And fuck you for... you know what. Just... fuck you. A lot of people are going to come in here, saying stuff they hope you hear, crying and carrying on, praying that you'll magically wake up. Well I'm telling you: Fuck. You. Get up. Get out of the bed, make it out of this alive. Because we fucking need you. I need you."

*

All was quiet in the ICU, as was to be expected at 3AM. All the visitors had either gone home or checked into the hospital provided rental suites. The nurse at the visitor's station looked up to see a handsome man in his early thirties with broad shoulders and crystal clear blue eyes.

"I came to visit Charles Parker," he announced.

The room seemed lonely and dark as he walked in. Charlie lay comatose, bruised and battered, with machines beeping away Charlie's vital signs. He pulled up a chair next to Charlie's bed and held his hand.

"Well, I've guess I've got your undivided attention now," he lamely joked, chuckles turning into quiet sobs. He stroked Charlie's hand, speaking gently and quietly. "I just... I'm so sorry for how things ended with us. I know you gave me everything and I gave you fuck all. And I know it's too little too late, but I see now. What I'm missing without you. I know there's no way I could even begin to ask for another chance... I've already fucked up three times... but... it just hurts me to not even have you in my life. And now, not knowing if you'll even pull through... "

He broke down weeping. A call came in from Diego. He declined the call, knowing the full consequences of that in the morning. He wiped his tears, kissed Charlie gently on the cheek, and continued holding his hand.

He woke up suddenly three hours later, still holding Charlie's hand. Nothing had changed in Charlie's condition. He washed his face in the sink and walked out, passing a handsome muscular guy and a sweet-faced young guy on the way out. They all three acknowledged each other without a word exchanged.

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