*A/N* I had a burst of inspiration! Enjoy :)
The crash came from the passenger side. The passenger seat was on top of me, suffocating me, the airbag blocking my face. I tried to breathe, but all that I felt was the weight of my chest. I thought I heard screams, more crashes, but the pain in my chest overpowering everything else. I was going. The world was fading. I couldn’t tell if I was dying or just passing out, since I hadn’t done either one.
Somebody yanked open the door and unbuckled the seatbelt, letting me breathe. The person tried to pull me out from the passenger seat, which was crushing me slowly. I was crying. Oh, God, don’t let me cry right now, I need to breathe.
“C’mon, Lizzie!” it was a man. He knew my name. How did he know my name? I tried to see his face, but it hurt my neck to move. He was shouting at other people, I couldn’t tell what he was saying. All I distinguished was “911”.
He climbed in the car, careful not to sit on me, and tried to shove the passenger seat off. My tears were choking me again.
“It’s gonna be okay, Lizzie. It’s gonna be okay,” he kept on saying. He made a sound of frustration and punched the seat. He climbed out of the car and leveled his face with mine, and I instantly recognized those blue eyes, even though I hadn’t seen them for probably over four years.
“Blaine,” I coughed, my salty tears falling into my mouth.
“Good, you can breathe. Try to stay calm, all right?”
I tried to take slower breaths, but they were getting shallower and shallower. “Are they coming?” I asked, in a feeble attempt to keep myself calm.
Blaine nodded. “They’re coming. It’s gonna be okay,” he repeated. I took a deep breath, but more tears kept falling.
Blaine calmly pushed my hair away from my face, something that normally would have sent electricity to the core of my soul, but instead was just comforting.
“I can’t move, Blaine,” I said, sniffling. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my passenger is crushing me.”
He laughed, looking relieved. “I actually had noticed. That’s good, keep observing your surroundings.”
I let my eyes wander a little. I couldn’t see much, because my vision was blurry and I didn’t want to move my hand to wipe away the tears. “Well gosh-darn-it, I think I’ll need a new rearview mirror.”
Blaine smiled. “I think you’re right. What else is there? Does anything hurt?”
“Well, Blaine, I wouldn’t really like to concentrate on that,” I said truthfully.
“I know, but it’s important.”
“I do feel a bit claustrophobic.”
“I believe that. But does anything hurt?”
I swallowed and tried to wiggle around a little bit—something I hadn’t attempted. My right leg felt like somebody was stabbing it, over and over.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I gasped, my eyes shut tight. I heard sirens getting close.
“Okay, what hurts?” he asked. He grasped my hand gently and squeezed. His hand was so calm, holding my own shaking one steady.
“My leg. My right leg,” I moaned. It still throbbed.
The sirens were right behind us, and a big man’s voice boomed out behind Blaine.
“Sir, we need you to clear the area.”
“Lizzie, I need to let go, okay, but they’ll take care of you,” Blaine said. I let my eyes look at his hand holding mine and noticed that I was squeezing so hard that his was turning purple.
“Don’t go. You can stay. I say you can stay,” I said. Fear was creeping up on me that if he let go, my leg was going to hurt me again.
His blue eyes looked so sad. “I have to let go, Lizzie. I’ll be at the hospital. I’ll ride on the ambulance if they let me.”
“No! Don’t go!” I was crying again like a little kid, squeezing his hand tighter.
“I’m sorry, Lizzie. It’ll only be a minute,” he said. He let go of my hand. I tried to cling to his fingers but he slowly wrenched them off, saying something in a soothing voice and stepped off to the side. A full team of paramedics were on me in a second. They moved the seat off of me, which I thought would be a relief, but instead my leg was burning with so much pain that a scream ripped my throat. They tried to be careful, they really did, but in that moment when they put me on the stretcher, I wouldn’t have minded if I had suffocated at the steering wheel.
They put me in the ambulance, their white uniforms a blur, and Blaine was in with me, and I was gripping his hand again, the only thing keeping me from fainting or dying, I couldn’t tell which one since I hadn’t done either.
As soon as we got to the emergency room, the doctors whisked me off to surgery. When I peeled open my eyelids afterwards I was surrounded by medical equipment and Blaine was sitting next to me, sipping some drink that looked like it was in a Starbucks cup.
“You’re awake,” he said, half smiling. “I’ll get the nurse.”
I blinked to clear my vision, but didn’t dare to move. I was never going to hurt like that again, I wouldn’t let it happen.
The nurse, a heavyset woman with a uni-brow, came in and asked me in a thick Russian accent where I was, and asked me to move my hands and rate my pain on a scale of one to ten.
“Um, two,” I answered, since I was sore.
“Good. Dr. Collins will be in to explain your procedure very soon,” she replied, then waddled out of the room without another word.
Blaine glanced over at me with an amused look on his face. “What?” I asked, smiling because his smile was so infectious.
“It was hard to concentrate on what she was saying with the caterpillar growing on her face.”
I laughed, which was a bad idea, because as it turns out, I was very, very sore. “That’s not very nice, Blaine.”
“I’m just speaking the truth,” he deadpanned. “Oh, they gave me your phone, so I took the liberty of calling your parents.”
“Oh, God, they’re in--”
“Italy. Yeah, they told me. They’re catching the first flight back, which isn’t until 12:02 tonight.”
I nodded, and then proceeded to stare at the blankets that covered my leg. “Did they tell you how the surgery went?” I asked.
“Kind of,” Blaine replied. “They said that it went well, but there would be a lot of rehabilitation and therapy sessions. You also have bruised ribs and a minor concussion.”
I sighed and let my head fall back against the pillow. “Can you....um….let me see my leg?” I asked, my face flushing. I felt too sore to move. Blaine didn’t skip a beat. Gently, he moved the blanket away and I immediately wanted to puke at the sight before me.
My leg had stitches from my upper thigh all the way down to my ankle. I swallowed loudly. “Will I walk?” I asked, without averting my eyes from my leg.
“Yes….” Blaine said, but his voice trailed off as if he had more to say. I turned and looked him square in the eye.
“Will I walk?”
“Yes. But it’s going to be a while. Like I said, there will be lots of therapy involved. The whole thing got crushed, Lizzie.”
I inhaled and exhaled slowly, mainly to keep myself from breaking down again. Then, I started smiling. Of all the places I thought I would meet the boy from the coffee shop again, this was not it. Never in a million years would I have guessed that he would be the one waiting by my side after I woke up from surgery, or saved my life from a crushed car.
“How did you know it was me?” I asked him. “We haven’t seen each other for more than four years, and out of nowhere you save my life.”
Blaine flushed red. “I didn’t know it was you, at first. I saw the accident. The lady that hit you ran the red light. I was taking a walk and I immediately ran over. Whenever I was able to get across, I yanked open the door and recognized you.” He paused, and smiled a little, and cleared his throat. “You left quite the impression.”
I felt my face heat up, but my smile was uncontrollable. I was right.
“Obviously you remembered me, anyway,” he rambled on.
I fiddled with my fingers and avoided his eyes. “You left an impression, too.” After a pause, I dared to glance over, and he was staring at me with his pure blue eyes. Quickly, he glanced down and cleared his throat again.
“You seemed to know what to do. You know, when I was trapped,” I said, attempting to diffuse the tension.
He chuckled. “My dad’s a volunteer firefighter. I was improvising.”
I smiled. “Well, you did a good--” I’m Yours by Jason Mraz came blasting out of nowhere, making us both jump a little (which really didn’t feel good, by the way). Blaine pulled my phone out of his pocket and handed it to me.
“It’s your dad,” he said, rising out of his chair as I answered. I nodded at him and he mouthed that he was getting food and walked out the door.