It was a long weekend and the family was returning home.

There was an accident. A drunken driver skidded into their sedan.

His father and mother died instantly, as did his fourteen year old little sister.

He survived, just barely. Comatose. All but brain dead.

For five years, he hung in the balance. With no real family to decide his fate, the doctors just let him lie there, alone, only the beeping on the monitor any indication that he had once laughed and cried like everyone else.

The day he woke up was a Tuesday.

It wasn’t dramatic. His eyes just opened, and he sat up, disorientated by his surroundings, by my presence.

I had never meant to be there. It was just a bizarre twist of fate.

“Where am I?” He had asked, his voice raspy from five years of silence. I looked over the edge of my book, not quite sure if he was talking to me.

“The hospital.” I replied, chewing my lip in thought. After all, the only reason I was in his room was to get some relief from the never-ending rants of my dying mother. When he asked me who I was, I just told him the truth.

‘Nobody special’.

He was still confused; I could see it in his eyes, so young for his face.

Before I had a chance to say anything else, a nurse came in. Amidst her shocked babbling and his questions, I slipped out the door.

Just because he had woken up while I was there didn’t mean he was my responsibility.

My mother died that evening. I was the only one out of four brothers she didn’t say ‘I love you’ to for one last time. Not that it mattered. After I had admitted I was gay, there had never been any place for me in that family.

There was a complication in some papers, though. A week later, I was the only one they could get back to that damned hospital to sign off.

After waiting an hour for the bigwigs to call me in, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was still there.

He was watching the cheap television when I slipped in. He looked helpless. I sat down in the plastic chair by his bed. I didn’t know anything about him, but I could say that much. He felt helpless.

“So much has happened. I’ve been left behind.” He turned to me suddenly. His eyes were grey, lonely, cloudy grey.

“We all get left behind at some point.” I shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”

He hugged his knees to his chest, not taking his eyes off mine.

“My family is dead. I have no one.” He whispered. “I hate it.”

I couldn’t help but rest a hand on his head, smoothing recently scrubbed hair. He leaned into the touch.

I don’t know why I just got up and left. Usually, I just tell myself I was worried about missing my appointment.

I also don’t know when it started. I was there every few days. Sometimes just for minutes, sometimes for hours. I would bring him silly trinkets, and he would ask me questions. Things were rough back then – I didn’t have too much money, and no one ever returned my calls. I didn’t even know his name, but his sadness and curiosity were like the eye of the storm, a solace that I could seek when everything fell apart.

I surprised myself by offering him a place to stay when he got out of hospital. I still wonder when I got so attached to our whimsical conversations.

He was delighted at the thought. Still a child at heart, I suppose.
That was how he ended up living with me.

Things moved quickly after that. He enrolled in some remedial college to catch up on his learning. I did some double shifts at work to get enough money to buy another bed. When he noticed my money problems, he got a part time job.

Sometimes he would cry, for his family. Sometimes, I would hold him. Everything began to balance out.

And all the while, we talked. Never about anything important. Just pointless, silly trivia.

Why the sky was blue.

Why there were more right handed people.

We could laugh together. We could be happy. It was like having my family back, before I had admitted my secret. But at the same time, it was different.

I had made my own family.

The first night we kissed, I admit we were both pretty drunk. It was clumsy and rough, but not something I regret. Afterwards, for the first time, we talked seriously, about our future, about being together.

I know now. Your name is Liam, and it fits you so perfectly.

Things never get easy. People cross to the other side of the street when they see two guys holding hands. But we’re happy.

Crazy circumstances brought us together. So, forget the world and its opinions. We don’t need it when we have each other.

Happy anniversary, sweetheart.

Love,

Nobody special.

P.S. Did you wake up because I was there?