Chapter 23 (awake)

Clinton

He woke up in an unfamiliar room with a gasp, his heart pounding in his ears, and tears wetting his cheeks and pillow. Clinton had been crying hard in his sleep, but he didn't care that nurses were walking past his room and could most likely hear every sob that came from his mouth.

Clinton tried to sit up and wipe his face, but it hurt too much to lift his arm. He gave up when he saw the cast around his wrist and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to forget everything that had happened in his dream.

It was tragic, and the haunting feeling that his brother was no longer in this world chilled his bones. Images of his brother's body crumpled on the cold concrete flashed behind his closed eyes; he flinched as he felt the chill of the cement on his fingers. It was almost like his dream had happened. If it did, Clinton wished that it didn't.

Just the thought of it sprung tears in his eyes, and he hated how much he'd been crying lately. He hated how weak and helpless he felt, lying on the hospital bed with his brother out somewhere with blood on his name.

And then Clinton sat up.

"Sydney!" He gasped, wincing in pain as his head began to spin. He watched with blurry vision as a nurse with a clipboard walked into his room.

"Hi," He said, setting it down on a cart beside his bed. "I'm going to be your Nurse for your stay here. My name is Henry."

Clinton tried to rub his eyes again as he laid back down.

"My fiance," he managed to say. "She and I got into a car crash."

Henry pursed his lips and looked away slowly.

"She must have come here too. Her name is Sydney Palmieri and..." Clinton trailed off and looked outside the window to his left as he chewed on his bottom lip. "I just want to see her and make sure she's okay," He said and watched as the leaves of nearby trees blew with the wind. He could hear the distant sound of songbirds in the distance. They sang a beautiful tune, but Clinton could tell by how the Nurse looked away, that something had gone terribly wrong.

"Yes, we cared for her as well," Henry began, taking a step closer. Clinton's face lit up as hope filled within his heart.

"When can I see her?" He asked. The Nurse folded his hands. That simple action was all that Clinton needed to see to know that it was true and something had gone horribly wrong.

His heart sank as Henry spoke. He closed his eyes and couldn't bring himself to listen to his words. It couldn't be true. He had to be lying. It had to be some kind of sick joke that Mitchel and Christian were playing on him for being irresponsible.

"It's truly unfortunate that I have to tell you this, Mr. Cave, but Sydney- your fiance... she didn't make it."

Clinton squeezed his eyelids, feeling his stomach turn inside out. His stomach abused his body and threatened to make him throw up.

"What?" Clinton whispered, but he didn't want the Nurse to say anything else. He wanted Sydney. He wanted to see her, touch her, to feel the warmth that rolled off of her body. He wanted to hug her and hear her voice, and to know that everything was okay.

"She didn't survive the crash. She- she's dead, Mr. Cave," the Nurse went on, placing a hand on his shoulder. Suddenly Clinton felt very weak. It was as if the years of drug and alcohol abuse had caught up to him and he couldn't even find the energy to shrug away from his touch.

"No," Clinton said and his voice cracked. "No, I wanna see her, goddammit, just-" He stopped short as his breath left his body and his chest heaved. He couldn't accept it, especially knowing that it was his fault. If he'd paid more attention to where he was driving it could have been avoided. But he got sloppy. And now he was paying the price. Sydney had paid the price. And she didn't even get to tell him what she wanted to say.

The Nurse left him alone as he cried.

+++

It turned out that Sydney had passed out just as Clinton did. The doctors told him that she was very much alive when they made it to the hospital but died the next day at 2:27 AM because of a build-up of fluid and blood in her lungs- it was as if she drowned to death. Clinton had been asleep for two days.

He cried the entire time the doctors spoke and refused to see his bandmates or take any calls from his family. Sydney's death wasn't the only bad news; there was something else- something that had happened and she was going to tell him on the day she died.

Sydney was pregnant. She was four weeks along and only found out that day. She hadn't had any symptoms and didn't show- she had no idea. They'd discussed that they weren't ready for that kind of responsibility, but it was as if he'd lost two people at once and that only made it worse.

As the days passed, Clinton slowly began to heal even though he'd have to be in the hospital for at least two weeks. Though he was showing signs of a fast recovery, it didn't stop him from losing the motivation to eat or even speak.

The guilt and mourning were almost too much for him. Though his fiance had passed, he found himself calling her cell phone, wishing that she'd pick up. He was met with the sound of her sing-songy voicemail that asked him to leave a message at the beep. Each time he called, the tears came. Each time he called, it was harder to hang up. Her voice was the only real thing he had left of her with him. He clung to it with all of his will.

Late nights were harder than the daytime. At least during the day, he had physiotherapy. At night, he lay awake, imagining the things they did together over the few years they had together. Somewhere between the sixth and seventh day at the hospital, he stopped crying. His face was too raw from the salt of his tears and his eyes were too sore.

The doctors prescribed stronger doses of anti-depressants when he refused to eat for the third day in a row. Eventually, he started to take calls from his parents, but he had Mitchel's number blocked. That didn't stop his younger brother from trying to contact him: he started to spam him with Christian's phone.

It was too much for him in such a short amount of time. His heart never slowed and his ears rung. He craved relief and mental silence, but most of all, he longed to feel happy- just for a minute.

+++

"You have a visitor, Mr. Cave," Henry sang as he walked into his room with his pills. They'd grown to have an easy relationship where neither of them spoke often and they only exchanged a few polite words when necessary. Henry filled a cup of water and handed it to him with another cup that held five pills, two of which were the same colour. Clinton swallowed each one quickly before saying, "I said I don't want any."

Without a studio, Clinton felt useless and had to settle with trying to produce with just his laptop and phone. When he wasn't on his laptop, he was reading books or staring at the T.V. It was a boring and tedious life that he was forced to live, and it didn't even seem worth it if he didn't have his fiance to go home to in the end.

He watched with half-lidded eyes and pursed lips as Henry waved two men inside the room, feeling his nerves calm as the pills took effect.

"You need more human interaction, Mr. Cave," Henry said and left the room as Christian stepped inside.

Mitchel had walked in too, but it was as if he cowered away from Clinton behind their youngest band member. Christian didn't hesitate to rush up to him and wrap his arms around him. Though Clinton had mixed feelings about the pair, he embraced them both.

"Shit, man, you had us worried," Christian said, giving him a little peck on the cheek. Clinton brushed him off and closed his laptop. Mitchel dared to sit on his bed and bite his lip as if he were deciding whether or not to say what he wanted to say. Finally, he took a breath before speaking.

"I'm sorry... About Sydney." The room had gone completely silent after he spoke, and the only sound that remained was the thoughts in Clinton's head.

"I know you loved her," Mitchel added. "We all did."

And it was true. Sydney had become part of the Chase Atlantic family: the fans loved her, and even Jordan and Cas who weren't even really associated with the band anymore. Clinton thought about how both Molly and Sydney had died. If Mitchel had still been with Jordan, would her fate have been the same?

And then Clinton felt a sharp wave of shame. There he was, wishing it was someone else that died instead of Sydney. He envied Mitchel because at least his ex was alive. At least he was still free to love her if he did. At least he was able to talk to her and have a conversation and feel her in his arms. Clinton would never have that, and it felt like he'd never recover.

Clinton looked down on his left ring finger where his engagement ring sat snug on the digit. Sydney had gone out and bought him a matching one to hers so that no other girl would look at him. She laughed as she said that he was hers, but deep down, he knew that she meant it and never wanted to let him go.

Clinton's heart throbbed as he blinked, looking up at Christian, who was looking at him intently.

"What?" He asked, and Christian sighed, shifting to lay down at his side. Mitchel did the same, and they both wrapped their arms around his torso.

"You'll get through this," Christian declared quietly, giving him a little squeeze. Clinton sniffed and felt himself smile slightly. Sure, he was mad at the two of them, but they were his family. It felt like he was finally home.