There were a thousand things that could have woken me up. For example; my bed is right next to a window that has got to be left ajar, because I don't recall hospital rooms being this cold. It's the middle of winter, yeah, but it's still not supposed to be this cold. Moving on – the annoying beeping sounds coming from more than just one EKG machine. The uncomfortable hospital bed. My dad's worried, annoyed and painfully loud voice as he spoke to any nurse or doctor that entered the shared room.

        But apparently, all that's taking to wake me up, is a single hair that's tickling my nose. My arms feel too heavy for lifting, so my only solution right now is to rub my face against my shoulder, or pillow, or anything that would end the agony.

        "Honestly, what does a man have to do to get someone's- wait. Lu- Lucy?" After that, all I hear are my dad's rushed footsteps, as he hurries toward my bed. I guess I haven't been that discreet while rubbing my face against the sheets. "Lucy?"

        With slight difficulty, I open my eyes; and I almost don't recognize the man standing right next to me. While he, on the other side, looks like he'd just won the lottery.

        "Oh my God," He beams down at me, "You're awake. Oh my God. Shit. Shit, okay. I'll be right back. Ashton, come sit next to her. Come on."

        I was just about to start trying to remember, and asking myself what the hell am I here for anyway, but the sound of that name is all I need to remember everything. Every single thing, that happened that night. And fuck, do I wish none of it happened.

        The beeping of the machine just next to my bed increases its pace – a lot – so I try to cover it up by coughing and sitting up. My dad's there to help me up, while he continues just standing at the foot of my bed, leaned against the wall, looking at me like he wishes that I'd never woken up.

        I can't really blame him if that's the case.

        "Ashton, come on," Dad repeats, and this time the said 20 year old reluctantly pushes himself off the wall, and starts dragging himself around to sit on one of the two chairs next to my bed. As expected, he sits on the one that's farther from my head. No hard feelings.

        "Alright, I'll be literally right back." The smile on my father's face could probably be compared to the one he had when I was born.

        When he leaves, it's just Ashton and I, not counting the other few people that are in my position. Although, it still feels like there's no one beside me; he's just sitting, picking at the cast on his right arm, which is signed by his friends Calum and Luke. Having met them more times than I can count, it doesn't surprise me that Calum's signature is in big, bright-colored letters, with a few swear words and all kinds of symbols here and there. And then there's Luke's, who only used a deep blue marker and wrote his name with a smiley next to it, followed by a short get-well-soon message, and a ya irresponsible drongo at the end of it.

        Ashton then switches to picking the bandage around his left wrist, which has his name on it – the fact that the name of his third bandmate isn't anywhere to be seen is making me a little nauseous. And if he didn't look weird while doing it, he would probably start picking at the bandage around his head – that looks a lot like the bandanas he loves wearing so much.

        God, I can't even begin to comprehend how much I've messed up our relationship. In some sick, twisted way, I'm happy that he'd gotten us in that accident that night – otherwise that would've surely been the last time I saw him. That's another thing; if it wasn't his fault that we're both here, in casts, and wrapped in meters worth of bandages, he wouldn't feel obligated to sit next to me.

        My heart skips a beat when he glances up at me, his green eyes duller than I'd ever seen them in the five years that I've known him, but both of us quickly look away. I can't look him in the eyes; I don't think I'll ever be able to look him in the eyes. Not after everything that I did to him, after admitting what I'd done barely a minute before he crashed into that FedEx van. I feel like getting in a car accident is exactly what I needed so I'd realize my mistakes.

        Before I can keep over-thinking things, and eventually making myself cry, the door of the room opens and my dad is once again jogging toward me and my – now ex – boyfriend of two years, with a doctor right behind him. Ashton quickly gets up from the chair and goes back to his previous spot, against the wall, and it takes me a couple of seconds to look away from him and acknowledge the doctor, who's trying to get my attention.

        "Hi sweetie," He says, once my eyes are on him. "First of all, tell me if you can hear me properly."

        A little confused, I give him a slight nod. I guess that's a normal question for someone who's just been in an accident. "Okay, now, how are you feeling? Any pain? Is your vision blurry? Are you feeling sick or anything? Can you speak?"

        I answer all of his questions with a shake of my head, except for the last one. "Yeah."

        "She's fine." I feel as if my heart has sunk a little, upon hearing his voice. I glance at Ashton, afraid that he's looking back at me, but he's still just inspecting his cast. He didn't say that because he's hoping that I'm fine; he said it so he'd rid himself of the guilt.

        "Right, look at me for a sec," The doctor says and leans down, scanning my face. Then he pulls out a little flashlight to check my eyes, and hums in approval when he turns it off.

        "Everything looks alright so far, are you sure you're not in any pain at all?" Again, I shake my head at the his question. I'm sure that standing or even sitting up won't be as painless as lying feels, but for now I think I'm alright. "Okay then. Well, here's the situation."

        He clears his throat, and sits down on the chair that's closer to me. "You were in a car accident, and you were in a coma for a month. Exactly four weeks."

        I feel my eyes widen a little; a month? So that means it's... July? Which means that I'd missed my dad's birthday? And possibly Ashton's 21st?

        No wonder he asked me if I could hear him properly.

        "Now, I'm sure you're fine, but this is just a procedure." The doctor takes a couple notebooks that he'd put on my end table, and starts flipping through one of them. In the meantime, my dad sits next to him, with an expression that's too worried for my liking.

        "Let's see," The doctor says through a sigh, and looks up from his notebook at me. "Can you tell me what's your name?"

        Oh. Oh. He thinks I have some sort of amnesia. Ha.

        "My name?" I repeat, and both the doctor and my dad nod. "Lucy."

        "I said she's fine," Ashton says again, and this time I look at him properly; he's staring at the ceiling, looking slightly annoyed that he's wasting his time on something pointless, such as checking if I still have my memory. Because I do, I do have my memory. I didn't forget anything.

        I abruptly look away from him, a thought that's crossed my mind making me widen my eyes a bit; yeah, I do remember everything. But I'm the only one who knows that.

        "Did you call her name or anything, when you saw that she's awake?" I look at the doctor, who's looking at my father, who's looking around as if trying to remember what had happened merely ten minutes ago.

        "Yeah, I said Lucy, twice," My dad finally nodded, and so did the doctor, who turned to look at me again.

        "Right, could you tell me your full name?"

        Well, it's now or never.

        I could tell him my name, have everyone think I'm okay and never see Ashton again. And on the other side, I could keep quiet, and pretend that I don't remember any of the horrible things I've done to him. Would that even work? Would he hate me less if he thought that I couldn't remember our relationship, especially the last few months of it?

        On one side, it's cruel. Cruel to everyone that I love, everyone who would be worried sick about this 'condition' of mine, and then be inexpressibly disappointed in me if they ever found out the truth. And on the other side, I could actually lose Ashton. No, I can't lose Ashton, I can't afford losing Ashton.

        "Okay," The doctor's voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I've just noticed that I haven't answered his question. Welp, there's no going back now. "Do you know who this man is?"

        My dad, who was holding his face in his hands, looks up at me with hopeful, and tearful eyes. I want nothing more than to say 'yes, that is my father' but a lump in my throat is preventing me from doing so. If I'm doing this for a good cause, then I sure as hell don't feel good about it.

        The doctor nods again, and my dad goes back to hiding his face, this time I notice his shoulders shaking. Christ, it's a good thing he lives 180 miles away. If I had to see him like this every day, I'd crack in no time.

        "And... do you know who that is?" The doctor points at Ashton, and he surprises me when I look at him – he's leaning against my bed, his eyebrows slightly furrowed but not in anger; he looks curious, even shocked on some level but he's not avoiding my eyes anymore. He's looking straight into my eyes while I'm looking into his, and I feel like this charade of mine could be worth something.

        "What about your birth date? Favorite movie? What year it is?" I keep quiet and keep looking at the ground. I only look up when my father abruptly stands up, and marches out of the room, letting out a loud sob right before he slams the door behind him. Dear lord, this feels worse than I could have ever imagined.

        "Alright," The doctor sighs, and stands up. "We'll need to run a few tests, but I think I know what it is. And it's nothing dangerous, so don't worry. Now I just have to find your father to tell him that too."

        He goes to walk out of the room as well, but turns to face me right before he exits. "That's who he is, by the way. That man, he's your father."

        I gulp heavily and nod once, to which he replies with a nod as well, and then walks out of the room. What shocks me after that, is that Ashton hurries to sit on a chair again, this time on the one that's closer to me.

        "You really don't remember anything? At all?" His brows are still furrowed, and I'm once again compelled to lie to him. Nothing new there. "Nothing? Like... how you got in the accident, what you were talking about right before it happened. Nothing?"

        It's interesting how he's asking about that; nevertheless, I keep shaking my head, because if I stopped, I wouldn't be able to start doing it again. Just when I'd had enough of lies, I'm falling into one all over again. And this time, I'm afraid it's too big of a lie, even for me.

        "Not a thing."

        Ashton sighs and leans back in the chair, just watching me watching him. I can't tell if he's relieved or worried or even fascinated, but one thing for sure, he looks less angry than he did when I woke up. He's definitely not anywhere near smiling in the slightest, but losing the angry expression on his face has got to be a good thing. Right?

        "Well, to start..." He begins, leaning forward and for a few moments just looking at his hands. Then he finally looks up at me, a little hesitantly. "I'm-I'm Ashton, I'm your... you're... we live together."

        We live together. That's not a bad start.

*

who wouldn't want to wake up from a coma to ashton irwin telling them "we live together"

i have like 60% of the story planned out but please leave feedback if you'd continue reading it? vote and comment, tell me what you think so far :) ily x