I felt bad for reading George's texts and not answering them. But it literally wasn't the right time or the right place, so I locked my screen and put the phone back in my back pocket.

I figured it'd be better if I called him when we went back home, cause honestly texting about something I wasn't even sure about while standing in the middle of a hospital sounded as chaotic and messy as it was.

As if the instructions weren't complicated enough the last time, now the doctor made them way more strict this time. For example Clay needed to completely abandon looking at screens, limit the time of listening to music and not using headphones or loud speakers when doing so, try to avoid turning around in his sleep too much and most importantly never take aspirin as a pain killer again.

When the doctor found out that Clay took aspirin to treat the concussion headache he got so worried and mad that I immediately freaked out. I didn't expect such a reaction, but then we found out that if he got unlucky and experienced intracranial bleeding, we'd already be facing the irreversible consequences.

That information made me so anxious that I got a bit sweaty from all the thoughts rushing in. The thought alone was enough to almost trigger a panic attack, but luckily both the doctor and Clay had already changed the topic and were laughing about something that I didn't pay attention to.

And after a bit of time we were back to the mess that we called a house. It looked more like a crime scene though. There was shattered glass on the floor with my bloodstains on and around it. Clay's bloody bandage was just thrown on the couch from how bad things got so quickly and we didn't have enough time to be organized or think about the consequences. There were also some blood stains from Nick around the bathroom area, and I realized that I was the one who had to clean everything up.

"At least you can blast music while you're at it." Clay pouted. The music restriction part was the one that frustrated him the most I think.

"Awh.. it's okay, you'll get better, bab- Clay."

Just why.

There were so many things bothering me about the sentence I said. Firstly it didn't sound like me at all, I'm never this soft usually. Normally I would make jokes in situations like this, even if I didn't feel like it.

And the second and most obvious part was the fact that I almost called him baby then freaked out and changed the word to his name in a not so slick way that made him hide a grin. My overthinking ass should've just went with it.

"I had never passed out until today. It was weird." Clay changed the topic immediately, seeing that I looked uncomfortable.

"Lucky you, my brain's unstable." I laughed, remembering all the times I lost consciousness from simple things like having a high fever or drinking alcohol.

"I could kind of hear your voice but it was like in a tunnel..? Like add echo and reverb to it, if that makes sense," he wasn't the best at describing things but I knew what he meant, "and it was dark at the beginning. Then I woke up and you started slapping me."

"Wait.. you woke up before I slapped you?" I was barely holding back my laugh, and I put in my maximal efforts into it just because I felt guilty.

"Yeah, that was so scary. Like I was about to force my eyes open and before I could do anything you start beating the shit out of me continuously."

And I lost it there completely, feeling the guilt build up even more while I was laughing.

"Imagine I died from that and the doctor thought you slapped me during sex." He added even more to the image in my head, making me laugh hysterically.

But soon enough my phone started to buzz again, reminding me that I had read yet not answered texts from George. My mood dropped momentarily and I had to do some explaining cause Clay was looking at me weirdly.

But the doctor warned us to keep him away from stress and mental pressure as well, along with the physical restrictions. I didn't want him to overthink or just think about the complicated stuff that was going on between us all.

And the good thing about it was that he wasn't allowed to check his phone at all for the first few days, which meant he wouldn't see the texts from George and I was the one who got to answer their calls. With all that being said, I blamed my mood change on something else that was also responsible for it.

"I got so scared seeing you like that. Has to be one of the most traumatic experiences of my life." I sighed as the scene resurfaced in my head, but this time it was way more realistic.

"Why?" He asked. And when he did, he immediately noticed my furrowing brows. "Noo, I don't mean it like that. I just.. did you think it was like.. bad?"

I nodded, looking away and trying to get rid of the flashing images, "Well it was bad, but I thought it's worse."

"Actually reminds me of that one time you passed out from high fever. When you had tonsillitis, remember?" He continued talking.

"How am I supposed to remember. I was unconscious..?" I knew what he meant, but still didn't lose the chance to make him laugh.

But just like I did a few minutes earlier, he also changed his mood immediately. I knew it was from memories resurfacing. I knew exactly how he felt and what he felt.

"Remember when I spoke about dying and you freaked out a bit?" I guess we're both starting to remember things.

He narrowed his eyes, and I realized that the memory wasn't there yet.

"I asked if death scares you and you said "not mine" or something like that." I couldn't remember his words that clearly, but what I said was enough for him to nod and continue the story from his perspective.

"I said that I don't like it when you speak about your death, and you said that you don't get what I mean." He smiled, but there was a tint of sadness in it.

"Yeah." I smiled as well, but it wasn't just a smile. It was a sign of realization, "Then you said that I'll get it one day."

We both paused for a while, just looking at the floor and thinking. I think he knew where this was going, so I spoke without wasting time.

"Yeah.. I get it now."