Noah Thomas let out a sigh as he leaned his head against the door frame of the hospital room he had called his home for the last six months. He couldn't fully comprehend the fact that tomorrow morning, for the first time in six months, he wouldn't wake up in this room.

He glanced back behind at his mother as she gave him a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, before making her way to the reception with some of his bags, where his father would meet them with the car.

He looked around the pale blue walls, his bed pushed up against one wall, now stripped of the covers. The other side had a second single bed, generally vacant but occasionally housing an occupant for a couple of nights until they got to leave.

Six months ago Noah never thought he would feel this way, but he would actually miss this place. The staff was nice, the food was surprisingly good, and it had become a sort of home over the last number of months.

He liked the routine. Life was so much easier when all your decisions were made for you - Noah could vouch for that fact.

He took one last look around the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, (an unlikely feat when his overly organized mother had been the one to clear out the room with him), before closing the door and making his way to the reception, laden down with a bag on his back and a cardboard box in his hand.

It was only as he stepped outside that he really felt the sense of being out that had been stirring since he was told he would be discharged two weeks ago.

"That thelast of them?" His dad asked as he put the bag and box in the open boot.

"Yeah, that's everything" Noah replied quietly, before side stepping his dad and making his way into the backseat of the silver car.

Outside, his parents shared a few quiet words and a short hug, before joining him in the car. Noah watched them for a second before facing forward again, feeling like an eavesdropper intruding on their moment of privacy.

His dad, Michael, revved up the engine and drove out the hospital gates. "Looking forward to being back home?" His mother asked, swivelling around in her seat to face him with an encouraging smile.

"Yeah." Noah replied, his quiet smile trying and failing to match her enthusiasm.

AlisonThomas smiled wider at her son, before turning back to face forward. From the corner of her eye she could see her husband's hand cover hers and offer her a comforting squeeze, and she returned it with a grateful smile.

Seeing Noah like this broke her heart. For a boy who was once so full of life, he had become a shadow of his former self. She missed her son, the one who chattered constantly and was always brimming with energy.

The accident had worn him out, and it broke Allison's heart further to know that he couldn't remember it.Telling him was futile, he would black out and ask again the next day. He was like a broke record those first few weeks in the hospital, every day it was the same questions.

From the backseat Noah could see his parents comfort each other, and found himself filled with a sense of bitter guilt. He hated that he did this to them, exhausted them like this.He hated that he couldn't find the enthusiasm to match the efforts they made, or the energy to smile and laugh like he used to.

He hated most of all that he couldn't remember what happened. It was like his memory block had also blocked off his former self, and if only he could remember, things could go back to how they used to be. With him, his family, his friends. His best friend.

More than a best friend to Noah.

He stared out the window of the car, the familiar streets looking the same as he remember. As if life hadn't moved on. As if it was all the same and everyone had paused their lives and waited for him to be home to resume them. If only that was the case.

As they pulled on to a familiar street, Noah sat up straighter, staring intently out the window.They neared the familiar looking red brick house, a second home of sorts to Noah. He took it all in. Another house that seemed the same. Noah felt stupid for assuming it wouldn't. As if his absence would have caused the house to fall apart.

He sat back in hisseat, meeting his mothers sympatheticexpression in rear view mirror. He looked away, not wanting her pity. It wasn't her fault Casimir hadn't been to see him.

Sometimes Noah wondered if he had imagined the whole thing. If their whole friendship was just some sad illusion he had created in his mind.

Sometimes he thought that those fourteen years of best friends couldn't have been more than merely fourteen years of acquaintance. Because why else wouldn't Casimir come to see him.

But when he thinks about it, Noah knows it can't be true. There's no way he could have imagined all of that. The thrice weekly sleepovers. The movie marathons. The summers spent vacationing with each other's families. Casimir was an extension to Noah's family, and vice versa. Hell, Casimir was an extension to Noah's own life itself.

Why then? Why hadn't Casimir come to see him. It was all too much for Noah to think about, and there had been more than one occasion where he had lashed out, taking his frustrations out and leaving any nearby objects shattered on the floor in fits of rage.

He sat back in the seat, closing his eyes, taking deep breaths to calm himself before the tears that were threatening to build up spilled over. Those angry outbursts were some of his lowest points, and to relive them did nothing but worsen his mood.

He didn't open his eyes again until he felt the car come to a slow stop as they reached his house, finding himself more tired than he originally thought with his head lolling against the window.

His eyes snapped open when they came to a stop outside his house, it's stone grey walls providing a familiar comfort. He took it all in for a minute, a long forgotten feeling of excitement in his stomach. It was fleeting, merely a glimmer, but it was there.

After grabbing his bags from the boot he followed his parents into the house, taking in the familiar walls that he grew up within. After peeking his head around the doors of the other rooms, he trudged upstairs to his room with his mother calling up behind him to say dinner would be in half an hour.

Noah walked quietly along the landing once he reached the top of the stairs. He paused at the second door on the left before pushing open the door of his bedroom, a flood of emotion washing over him as he took it all in. It looked untouched, the exact same as he had left it six months ago.

The bed was made — a telltale sign that his room had not been completely untouched, as only his mother would have the will to make his bed. The pictures on the wall sent a second wave of nostalgia over him, the ones of him and Casimir especially hard hitting.

He felt himself unable to stop as his feet carried him over to the framed photo on his desk of him and Casimir. It was taken on a stuffy summers day, the two of them side by side with their arm around each other's shoulders on the deck of the pool.

Subconsciously, his hand reached out and he found himself running a finger over Casimir's smiling frame.

Then, all at once, the memories of the last six months spent alone cane flooding back. The throwing up, the migraines, the waves of depression. It all became too much for Noah and he slammed the picture face down, managing to hold himself back from flinging it against the wall, a move he knew he would come to regret in time.

Taking deep breaths, he stripped out of his clothes and crawled into bed. He switched on the television and opened up Netflix, picking a random movie so as not to feel so alone.

As the movie played on on the LED screen opposite his bed, merely a backing track to his thoughts, Noah made up his mind about what he was going to do. He had to see Casimir, if even just to set the record straight between them. He wouldn't be able to function properly otherwise.

There had to be some reason for Cas not to see him, and Noah had a niggling feeling that maybe Casimir's absence was somehow related to the accident. If he could find out the truth from Casimir, he could possible be one step closer to finding out what happened that day.

He flipped over onto his stomach, reaching his hand down to the floor beside his bed where his jeans lay discarded. He fumbled around blindly in the pockets until his fingers clasped over the cold metal of his mobile phone. Rarely used anymore, Noah was surprised to find that it wasn't out of battery. One of the nurses must have charged it for him overnight.

He opened up the messenger app, scrolling through the short list of exchanges until he found Casimir's name. It barely took him ten seconds.

It was only when he started typing the text that he found himself at loss for what to say. How does one start a conversation after six months of silence?

He knew he wouldn't get a reply anyway - Cas had never quite wrapped his head around the concept of replying to text messages, an annoyance which drove his mother crazy.

Noah's fingers hovered over the touch keypad, the message he had written in his mind suddenly seeming not right.

After writing and erasing what felt like one hundred text messages, Noah just decided to settle on his first instinct.

To; Cas

Let's meet tomorrow @ the usual spot. 1pm. We need to talk.

Noah hesitated for a second before deciding to add in the final sentence, a decision that had been playing on his mind.

I've missed you.

- N

Hitting send, Noah locked the phone and dropped it back down on to the ground, simultaneously switching off the telivision. All he could do now was hope that when he woke up, his phone would be free from notifications. Casimir would only ever reply to an attempt to make plans if he couldn't make it, something Noah had grown accustomed to since the days they used to text each other off their mother's phones to make plans.

He snuggled himself further into his duvet, breathing in it's familiar homely scent. The sheets had that satisfying softness that only came when they were freshly changed, and he made a mental note to thank his mother for doing so.

As darkness fell, his eyes began to droop. He briefly registered that he hadn't eaten his dinner, and that he should try and stay awake for the family meal for his parents sake.

But before he could make the decision to set an alarm, sleep came. Bringing with it the nightmares that Noah so deeply despised, more than anything because they never gave him any real answers.

Every morning he was filled with the same sense of frustration as he tried desperately to decipher the blurry dreams, but to no avail.

It was all flashes and snippets, blurred faces and unidentifiable screams. It was almost as if his dreams were taunting him, dangling the truth in front of him, but just out of his reach.