“Friends talk to each other, but real friends listen.”
- Riley, Girl Meets World

♬Song♬
Gift Of A Friend by Demi Lovato

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Brayden's POV

After an unforgettable encounter with a blonde crazed fangirl, Matt, Darren (the bodyguard), and I continued toward Heath Rey Hospital. The diurnal city noise became louder as we set more and more distance between the airport and us. The drive offered no trace of peace between the noise, the road, and my brother.

At the start of the long, tedious ride, Matt could not stop staring at the piece of paper in his hand, as if he had struck gold. On normal occasions, the little guy would just gaze out the car windows but not today. He noticed me staring at him intently and looked back. I raised my eyebrow, but he just lowered his face into his phone. He added a number into his contacts, and I let out a rather loud sigh.

"Matt whose number is that?" I asked, causing his lips to tilt upwards into a sly grin.

"It’s the number of the girl who sat next to me on the plane," Matt beamed proudly.

"You mean the crazy fan that ‘fell’ into my lap?" I asked bewildered.

"Yeah, her,” he dismissed, “I think she’s benevolent.” I am sure he thought I was merely misguided.

Before I could reply, the chauffeur announced our arrival. As I climbed out of the car, I felt Matt's little hand tug on my hand. I understood, taking his hand. Together we slipped on a pair of shades. Finally, ready, we entered Heath Rey Hospital, with Darren trailing close behind.

Let's go meet my best friend, I thought wistfully to myself.

Upon entering, my eyes scanned the foyer, checking for the receptionist’s desk. A surly woman in her mid-forties turned her chair toward us.

“Can I help you?” she scrutinized our sunglasses as she spoke.

“Yes, can I possibly see Dylan Lockhart?” I was sure we were within visiting hours, but still was not sure if she would let me see him, with the American healthcare system and all.

“Are you related to him?” she asked.

“You could say that we're brothers,” I said, inwardly irritated.

“Bray, the sunglasses are hurting my ears!” Matt nagged, removing his sunglasses.

This kid is going to be the death of me.

Inhuman squeals erupted from the woman behind the desk, causing many unwanted stares in our direction.  She is surely too old to be a fan, I thought hopefully. She probably thinks Matt is cute because he’s little.

“You’re Matthew Haynes! That means you must be Brayden Haynes! Oh, and this strapping fellow must be your bodyguard.”

Oh, good grief, I thought. Can this woman be any louder?!

“My daughter is a huge fan of your music! I’ll tell you what, Bray—may I call you that?—if you could make out an autograph to her—Katie, K-A-T-I-E—I’ll tell you the room number of your best friend,” she negotiated slyly as she simultaneously slid me paper and a pen.

Flashing my best smile, although grinding my teeth, I hastily wrote out and handed her the autograph. The receptionist clasped her hands to her heart adoringly as she examined my signature. Her triumphant expression could best be described as if she had just received the Best Mum Award. The completely maudlin display was actually very annoying and time-consuming.

She snapped out of her dreamland upon sight of my expectant gaze, beginning to usher a nurse toward us. I inwardly panicked, unwilling to make a huge scene of myself being escorted through the busy hospital, as if suddenly on the red carpet. My bodyguard came to my rescue, speedily explaining that I do not want to attract unnecessary attention to myself. The receptionists eyes widened in understanding. After a coy apology, she gave us the room number and directed us to the staircase, passing many people in the process. Darren again followed slowly, at a short distance.

“Matt, you know the rules, why did you take off your sunglasses?” I asked, walking up the stairs.

“Rules are meant to be broken, besides it was hurting me. Remember Trey always says, ‘If something hurts you, take it off’. So I did that,” Matt answered, skipping up the stairs.

Trey Richard Haynes, I am going to kill you the next time I see you.

Before long, we entered the white-tiled hallway; Matt frowned as the smell of bleach pervaded the air. I was searching for room D11—‘D’ like Dylan, I thought. I cautiously opened the white door with a motion to the other two to stay behind. I took a moment to process the scene in front of me. There he was, my best friend sketching franticly, with anger radiating the energy of his rapid strokes. He was lying on a hospital bed; somewhere he swore he’d never be. The television in the room was muted and the dull brown blinds, were welcoming warm sunrays into the room.

“Are you just going to stand there like a creepy weirdo, or are you actually going greet me?”  Dylan broke the silence with an impatient grin, looking up from his sketchpad.

“Dude, between the two of us, everyone knows you’re the weirdo, see you’re taking all your anger out on that poor innocent sketchpad,” I smiled, shaking my head. “And now you’re here in the hospital, now… What happened, exactly?”

As if on cue, the doctor entered the room.

“Mr Haynes, it’s nice to meet you in person. You may call me Doctor Ryland. Dylan has talked a lot about you and your coming to visit. I assume you are already aware that Dylan has been involved in a car accident?” he asked.

I nodded, giving him the green light to continue.

“I have the X-rays here,” the doctor displayed them over a previously unseen projector, wired through the ceiling and projecting onto the adjacent wall to the door. “Dylan has suffered some major injuries which, although are not life-threatening, could be life-changing. His right leg bears brunt of the injuries. See here, the leg is fractured in numerous places, leaving our surgical team no feasible way to repair the damage surgically. Amputation will be the least painful option. However, he could try the new method of surgery. It is called the Spider Web Healing Technique. Our surgical team would make use of special screws made of spiders’ silk and equally special spiders’ silk scaffolding in order to repair his leg.

“It could potentially, organically heal the leg over time. If given a few months of physiotherapy, he would soon be able to walk again. Keep in mind, however, that is all still in an experimental phase, but the decision belongs to you, Dylan, of course,” Doctor Ryland explained, completely focused on Dylan’s x-rays.

“Eh. Well, I know many would amputate their leg and go for a prosthetic, since it’s the sure way out of a hospital bed eventually. But I’d rather have my own leg back- sorry Doc, but I’m going with the Spider Web surgery thingy. Who knows? I might even become the next Spider Man,” Dylan responded optimistically.

“Okay, then. I’ll provide you later with all the information about the surgery; in the meantime, do you have any family relatives you would like me to contact?” Doctor Ryland asked.

“No, it's fine, thanks Doctor Ryland,” Dylan said. He turned to me when the doctor left the room. “Jordan visited earlier; I should probably let him know about the surgery, huh?”

“Dyl, how exactly did this accident happen?” I asked calmly.

“Oh, that. Can you believe I was passing the Sunshine Orphanage for Girls, when a little girl crossed the road and a car was speeding straight in her direction?”

“So you played the hero like always and saved her right?” I asked, completing his statement.

“Yep, pretty much. But the girl isn’t hurt and that’s all that matters,” he stated, and then angrily threw his sketchpad against the wall. “Brayden what the heck am I going to do? The new dreamers arrived today; they start tomorrow AND THEY CANT HAVE A MUSIC INSTRUCTOR THAT JUST CAME OUT OF SURGERY WITH A BROKEN LEG!” Dylan exclaimed, scratching his raven black hair as he spoke, probably wanting to pace up and down right now.

“Dylan, calm down. I’m sure Ms Stone can find a replacement for the time being,” I suggested after listening, bearing in mind that as long as there were singers and musicians in the world, DREAM Conservatory would never run out of instructors.

“B-ut… what if you become my temporary replacement?” Dylan pointed out, “Then you could take over my classes and I don’t have to become a worrywart on how my students adapt to a stranger that is new to it all,” he explained, with an elated grin, happy that he solved his own problem.

“You are already a worrywart,” I said and took a seat on a brown chair, contemplating my decision, “And for how long will this be?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

“Um, you know, for me to make a full recovery and all, about a year,” Dylan replied, and before I could utter a word, he said with a hopeful look, “Besides, now you will get to spend more time here in Los Angeles with your buddies and you can take a break from touring a bit.”

“But I am already on a touring break, when--” I stopped in the middle of my sentence, upon hearing people’s shouts, causing a racket from below. I walked over to the window and looked down, staring at the crowds of paparazzi. Just great, just what I needed, I thought sarcastically.

“It’s the paps, isn’t it?” Dylan asked with a knowing expression.

“Yep, how’d you know?” I asked and followed his gaze to the flat screen television. They were showing a video of me leaving the airport and climbing into the car with Matt. My feet already started pacing; I am going to have to deal with them one way or another, but with one bodyguard that would be impossible.

“So back to the main topic, are you going to be my replacement?” Dylan looked into my eyes. Oh, why the eyes dude?

“Yes Dylan, if it makes you happy bro, I’ll be your replacement. Just stop with the eyes,” I replied, smiling at my best friend.

“I knew I could depend on you Brayden!” he replied triumphantly.

“Brayden, I’m hungry!” Matt barged into the room, and he did not look happy.

Dedicated to: jNwachi88

DISCUSSION TIME:

∞ Would you roll in front of a car to save a little girl?

∞ If you were in Dylan’s position, what option would you have chosen?

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