It was unexpected. The last time he saw you in person was afterschool, as you gave his hand a reluctant squeeze before the two of you parted ways to return to your own homes. Afterwards the two of you texted from time to time, until you went offline not long later. You haven't then replied for roughly two hours, and he wasn't determined to find out- you were probably asleep, since he knew you had the weirdest sleep schedule. Pulling all nighters, then falling asleep in class or right after school ends wasn't something mind-blowing now.

So what happened in those two hours? Why is he seeing you in the hospital now? By the time he learned the full story and was about to find you, he was boiling with anger. No, not at you. He was frustrated how easy it was for you to just.. try to end your life. If only the convenient store cashier had asked a single question when you bought literally eight packs of Tylenol, if only your parents were aware of what you were doing, if only... if only he noticed what was wrong. But at least your sad excuse of a mother had driven you to the hospital. And what really stoked the flames of his anger was how the nurses acted, how they chuckled and spoke as if they pitied him for knowing such a stupid girl like you. Did they find her suicide attempt funny? Did they think she was a coward for regretting her choice and asking for help?

But the moment he saw you, his heart clenched and suddenly his anger dissipated. Normally, you looked fragile, pitiful even, but there was a certain kind of perseverance in which he adored. But now, it's nowhere to be found. You laid flat on the hospital bed, your eyes barely open and you looked like you were standing right on the fine line between staying awake and unconsciousness. You were covered in rashes, the cutting scars on your arms that you had inflicted upon yourself swollen and ugly. "-"

Before he could continue, you suddenly sit up, lurching forward as your hand clasps over your mouth. Before you or he could react, black vomit poured out of your mouth, spilling from in between your fingers, no matter how desperately you try to stop it from coming out of your mouth. With each uncontrollable contraction of your stomach, you couldn't stop puking until you finally finished with a strangled gasp. Your lap, hand, the hospital bed, all had black vomit on it. Geez. He has definitely experienced vomiting before, but it's never black. It took a long moment for the nurses to realise you had vomited, and he was forced to step backwards as they rush around you, closing the curtains around you for privacy as they took off your hospital gown to clean you up.

A few minutes later, as the curtains are opened again, he spots you changed in a new hospital gown, sitting on a new bedsheet. Maybe the vomiting had helped, because your rashes had eased a bit. It was now when he noticed the two IV bags hung up on both of your sides, probably something to help you from getting any further liver damage.

He steps towards you, suddenly at a loss for words.