The fluorescent lights above Elias never stopped humming. Not loud. Not quiet either. Just enough to exist. Like a thought you couldn't finish.
The neurologist stood at his bedside longer than necessary, clipboard resting against his forearm, eyes moving between the monitor and Elias' face, scrutinizing each feature. The oxygen mask covered most of him. Dark-tinted. Clinical. Impersonal. It flattened his features, hid what little familiarity remained. Without it, maybe someone would have noticed the shape of his mouth, the stubborn curve of his jaw. With it, he looked like a stranger who had lost a war with gravity. Took a trip to outer space.
"Vitals are stable," the doctor said, mostly to the nurse. "But neurologically… this is unusual."
Unusual was a polite word. Elias lay there thin to the point of sharpness, hospital gown hanging off him like it had given up trying. His collarbones jutted. His wrists looked fragile. Anyone who had known him before would've needed a second, maybe third look. And even then, they would've hesitated.
"Elias?" the doctor tried again, louder this time. "Can you hear me?"
He could.
Sound came and went like tides. Sometimes it was clear. Sometimes it blurred, muffled as if his head were underwater. But he heard his name. He always heard his name.
He tried to answer.
Nothing.
His throat burned with the effort. His chest tightened. Somewhere between intention and action, his body simply refused to cooperate. It was like pressing a light switch that no longer connected to anything.
The doctor leaned closer, watching carefully. Elias' eyelid twitched. Just once. Barely there.
"Okay," the doctor murmured. "That's something."
The nurse scribbled it down. Finger movement: none. Verbal response: none. Eye movement: minimal. Consciousness: suspected, not confirmed.
The doctor straightened. "Let's contact his emergency contacts. Friends. The one who visited last time. Anyone."
A phone buzzed softly as the nurse stepped aside to make the calls.
Elias drifted.
He wasn't asleep. Not fully awake either. Time bent strangely in this state. Memories slid in uninvited.
A laugh. A table cluttered with coffee cups. Someone saying, 'Bro, you overthink everything.'
He almost smiled at that. Almost.
Footsteps approached again.
"We reached another one of his friends," the nurse said. "Name's Jonah. He's on his way."
Jonah.
That landed heavier than expected.
Jonah was the one who always showed up late, complained about parking, and somehow still knew everyone's business. The one who cracked jokes at the wrong moments and apologized with food instead of words.
The doctor nodded. "Good. He might help fill in some gaps."
As if on cue, Elias' finger twitched. Just a fraction. Enough to register. Enough to matter.
The doctor noticed this time.
"Did you see that?" he asked.
"Yes," the nurse replied, eyes widening slightly.
Another note was made. Another small mystery added to the pile.
Voices floated past the curtain later. Not meant for him. Never meant for him.
"…heard he just collapsed," someone whispered."Out of nowhere?""Yeah. Scary stuff."
A different voice followed. Familiar, but distant. A female voice, soft but edged with frustration.
"…I swear, men are exhausting. He basically cheated, but not enough to call it cheating. You know that kind?"
A pause. Then laughter. Bitter, not amused.
Elias listened, not because he wanted to, but because sound reached him whether he invited it or not.
The voice continued. "I'm done with that whole situation. I deserve better."
He didn't know who she was. He didn't need to. The words still landed somewhere sensitive. Funny how pain didn't require introductions.
Footsteps again. Faster this time.
"Where is he?" Jonah's voice cut through the air. Breathless. Uneven.
"Room 412," the nurse said calmly. "But I need you to understand - he's not responsive in the usual sense."
Jonah pushed past the curtain anyway.
The sight stopped him cold.
"…That's not-" Jonah swallowed. "That doesn't look like him."
Because it didn't.
The mask. The gown. The way Elias seemed smaller somehow, like life had quietly drained him of volume. Jonah stepped closer, eyes scanning for something familiar.
"Eli?" he tried, softer now. "Hey. It's me, man."
Elias heard him.
Something stirred. Not movement. Not speech. Just awareness sharpening, like a lens coming into focus.
Jonah exhaled shakily. "You always pull stupid stunts, but this? This is next level. You could've at least texted."
A weak attempt at humor. It cracked halfway through.
The doctor watched closely as Jonah spoke, noting the tiny reactions. The faint tightening around Elias' eyes. The almost-there tremor in his fingers.
"He can hear you," the doctor said quietly. "We think."
Jonah blinked. "Then… then he's in there?"
"Yes," the doctor replied. "Very much so."
Jonah leaned in, voice dropping. "Okay. Okay. That's good. That's… that's something."
He paused, then added, almost reluctantly, "There's someone else who asked about him too."
The doctor looked up. "Another contact?"
Jonah hesitated. "Not officially. Just… someone from his life."
The doctor didn't press. He rarely did. Secrets had a way of surfacing on their own.
Elias' eyelid fluttered again. A tear escaped the corner of his eye, sliding slowly toward his temple, unnoticed by everyone except the machine that kept counting his breaths.
He couldn't speak.He couldn't move.But he was there.
And somewhere in the hospital, life was brushing past him without realizing how close it had come.
Talk about timing. Or rather, the lack of it.