Lyle's POV: 

I'm in my room after getting blasted last night, I really drank too much. I was way too nervous and thought that alcohol would relax me; however, I was super fucking wrong. I did drugs, didn't drink a bunch of alcohol.

I was really sappy and annoying, apparently. I don't remember anything.

I have a brutal hangover and took class off to just paint.

I fling paint at a canvas and hope that I can try to use this for a project that's due soon. The florr might get stained, but that is the price for fine art.

My dorm door creaks open, and I already know that it's Ken. But then I hear a thump in the hallway.

"Ken? I'm in my room!" I call at him. 

I put up my hair in a ponytail, then moved to open my room door.

Just in time to see Ken pass out cold on the floor.

I start yelling and begging him to wake up.

His face just looks like he's sleeping. If he was dead his eyes would be open right?

I'm crying and hyperventilating. 

I reach for my phone to dial 911. My hands are trembling while the tears in my eyes can barely make out the numbers. I manage to type the correct three digits.

Please don't die.

Please don't die.

Please don't die.

Please don't die.

Please don't...

Oh god is he even breathing?

I do what Tom taught me and put my index and middle fingers on his neck to check Ken's pulse.

He's alive.

He's alive.

He's alive.

The 911 operator asks me what she can help me with.

"M-my friend, h-h-he's pas- passed out," It's hard to breathe.

"Alright, what's your address?" They ask. I recited where I was, and in 15 minutes the paramedics were there. 

I feel empty, I forgot that I ruin everything.

Ken's face is framed by his black hair, the freckles give depth to his features. I would trace his nose, but I'm afraid that if I touch him, he'll break.

 "Sir I'm going to need you to let go of him," one of the paramedics told me.

"NO! Please no, I-I need to be here, h-he needs me ple-please, please, please, I'm b-begging you," I say crying and voice breaking.

They sigh and let me be there holding his hand and sobbing in the back of the ambulance. 

We get to the hospital, and everything has been a blur of people and medical staff. I don't remember how I got to the waiting area, but here I am.

I feel numb.

My phone has been buzzing for hours, and I can't check it; it feels like a boulder in my pocket waiting to crush me. 

Then a really stupid ringtone starts playing and I immediately pick it up and answer.

"Iris?" I sob into my phone.

"Oh my god, babes, are you ok? Marcus was texting me and saying he couldn't get a hold of you, and there was an ambulance, and, holy fuck are you alright? What happened, love?" She was obviously stressed out.

I explained what happened and how worried I was. 

"Shit, I can't leave, I can try to get mom and dad though, that's if you want them," Iris says.

"Please," I whispered.

  She hangs up and promises that mom and dad will be there soon.

A nurse comes out later and says that Ken's stable and awake. I can visit him now.

I run into his room and look at him.

He's on an IV drip, and he looks fine. Just tired. 

"Lyle?" Ken asks.

I tackle him and start crying again.

"Hey dude, please don't crush me," he smiles weakly.

"What happened?" I demanded.

"I can answer that," A doctor walks into the room, "Hi my name is Dr. Evans, and your boyfriend there has anorexia, he hasn't eaten in 58 hours. Because of that decision, he passed out; he'll be fine. I'm going to suggest a couple of therapists. We'll keep him here overnight to make sure he hasn't damaged anything, and make sure that he'll be eating. I'm going to ask you as his significant other to make sure he's eating a balanced diet and not starving himself, so he won't end up here again."

"Ma'am, he's not my boyfriend," I tell her.

"Huh, your name is Lyle,  yes?" She asks me.

"Yes ma'am," I reply.

"I could have sworn that he was mumbling that when he was passed out, well nevertheless, make sure that he's eating," She said.

Ken was blushing and mumbling something under his breath about being friends with guys is a crime now. 

I laughed, I'm just glad he's alive.

Although I'm surprised that he has anorexia, he looks fine, a bit skinny, I guess. 

Dr. Evans left and we were left alone.

Do I ask?

What do I do? There's so much to unpack. How do I start?

"Lyle, I'm sorry."