Here it was again…
That warmth.
Asher's eyes fluttered open. The sterile white of the hospital ceiling greeted him. His body ached—every muscle, every bone screamed in pain. Bandages covered him almost entirely, and even breathing felt like dragging fire into his lungs.
But then… that warmth spread through his chest once more. Subtle. Gentle. It didn't erase the pain, but it dulled it, wrapping around him like invisible arms.
'What… is this feeling?' Asher thought, his vision hazy.
A soft sound reached his ears—light, rhythmic, almost musical.
Little snores.
He turned his head slightly, wincing from the strain. There, sitting in the chair beside his bed, was Erica, her head resting against her arm, still dressed in the same clothes from that day. Her cheeks were streaked with faint tear lines.
She had never left since that day.
Not for a second.
A weak smile touched his lips.
So this… this is what it feels like to be cared for.
As if sensing his gaze, Erica stirred. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she blinked slowly awake.
The moment her eyes met his, they filled with tears.
"Asher!" she gasped, her voice trembling. She shot up from her chair, leaning over the bed, her hands gripping the sheets. "Thank God—you're alive… you're really alive…"
Her tears fell freely now, splashing against his cheek.
"Hey… don't cry, Erica," Asher whispered weakly, his lips curling into a faint smile. "I hate seeing you like this."
She tried to speak, but her voice broke. "You—You almost died…"
Her tears wouldn't stop.
Asher watched her cry for a moment, but then—
"Arghhh!" he suddenly groaned, twisting slightly on the bed.
"Asher!" she shouted, panic flooding her face. "Someone! He—"
"Hey, hey—" Asher interrupted with a weak chuckle, coughing between breaths. "Just kidding…"
Erica froze mid-motion, blinking in disbelief. "What?"
Asher gave her a faint grin. "Got you."
She stared at him for a second, and then her trembling lips curved into a small, tearful smile. She wiped her face roughly and sighed.
"Dummy…" she murmured, her voice soft but full of relief.
But suddenly—something caught Asher's attention—color.
Across the small bedside table, he saw several bouquets of flowers—bright tulips, lilies, and a bundle of sunflowers, all carefully arranged. Between them, tucked neatly under a get-well card, were four folded letters.
"Erica…" he said softly, his voice still hoarse. "What are those? The flowers and letters?"
Erica blinked, following his gaze, then smiled faintly. "Oh—these? They came while you were asleep."
She stood, walking over to the table and picking up the letters carefully, as if they were fragile. "They're from… your friends."
Erica sat down beside him again and unfolded the first letter, written on pink stationery. "This one's from Lydia."
She cleared her throat lightly and began to read:
> "Ashy,"
Erica's eyebrow twitched slightly, but she kept going.
"I've never actually written a recovery letter before, mostly because no one I know ever gets themselves hurt this dramatically.
But I suppose you're special that way.
Anyway… try to recover soon. School feels boring when you don't have anyone to poke at lunch.
Don't make me say this twice.
—Lydia."
Erica exhaled softly, shaking her head with a faint grin. "Classic Lydia."
She picked up the next envelope, a pale blue one with neat handwriting.
"Hey, Asher…
I know we're not super close, but you've always been so kind to me. Honestly, I think you're the nicest guy I know—
and probably the most handsome too (don't tell Scott I said that!).
I really hope you get better soon. We all miss you at lunch.
Take care of yourself, okay?
—Allison."
Erica couldn't help but giggle quietly. "Guess you've got fans, huh?"
Asher just smiled faintly, his cheeks warming despite the pain.
Erica opened the third letter, the handwriting messier, but heartfelt.
She read it slowly:
"Hey Asher,
I don't really know what to say. I just… I'm glad you're still here, man.
Me and Stiles are making one mess after the other without you.
So please, get better soon.
—Scott."
Erica paused for a moment before picking up the last one. The handwriting was chaotic, words uneven and scribbled.
"Yo, Asher.
I don't know how the hell you survived that, but you did, so… congrats, I guess?
Also—screw you.
Because every time I look in the mirror now, I just see a slightly uglier guy compared to you. (Yeah, you set the bar too high, jerk.)
Anyway… enough jokes.
Seriously, man, I'm glad you're alive. You've been a great friend to me and Scott, and that means more than you probably realize.
Don't scare us like that again. Get better.
—Stiles."
Erica lowered the paper slowly, her expression soft. "You've got quite a fan club, you know?" she said with a small, teasing smile.
But when she turned toward Asher—her breath caught.
He was smiling… but tears were streaming freely down his cheeks.
He tried to speak but couldn't. The words caught in his throat, trembling with emotion.
'This…' he thought, clutching the blanket lightly.
This...
His vision blurred again, but this time, it wasn't from pain.
'I don't know what you are, warm feeling…' his mind whispered, 'but thank you. Thank you so much. Without you… none of this would've been possible.'
Erica reached out wordlessly and squeezed his hand.
For the first time in his life, Asher felt appreciated, cherished.
To be continued...
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How was this chapter? Liked it?
Also, am I managing well the pace?