Turns out that I do not enjoy what Sam had planned. Not one bit.

For the entire week, he has been dressing in my clothes and acting as outrageously flamboyant as he pleases. Usually he considers social boundaries but this week, they don't appear to exist.

He's been clinging to my arm, skipping down the street, even kissing me on the cheek. Okay, I'll admit that I don't exactly hate the last one, but the rest are embarrassing.

If I thought people were bad before, now they're just a ruddy nightmare. Everywhere we go people stare and whisper and it's starting to drive me insane. It shouldn't matter if someone chooses to behave in the way Sam has been, they're no less of a person because of it.

But the truth of the matter is that this behaviour isn't natural for Sam and I'm tired of putting up with his fake persona. I want the real him back.

Not the version of him that is sat opposite me, wearing my rainbow shirt as well as outlandishly large sunglasses and an array of bracelets. Where he is finding the accessories, I don't know. He gesticulates with a floppy wrist, popping another grape into his mouth and I sigh heavily. I'm not even contributing to the conversation anymore, as that too is fake.

I roll a grape around in my fingers, reminding myself that I have a doctor's appointment today, on top of all the other crap that's going on in my life. All of a sudden, a part of me breaks and I make a snap decision.

I place my phone into my pocket and grab my bag, deciding to leave my lunch for 'Sam', If that's even his real name, as I've long lost my appetite.

"Where are you going?" He demands suddenly, sounding like his old self again.

"Home." I mumble, tugging down the brim of the baseball cap on my head.

"Why? You have another lecture in half an hour." He asks, genuinely concerned now. He pulls off the sunglasses and I'm relieved to finally see a part of him I recognise.

"I'm sick of this, you made your point. I'm tired of people staring and whispering but more than anything else I'm tired of this," I state, gesturing to his get-up.

"I want to spend time with you. The real you, not this person you're pretending to be." I continue, pulling my bag onto my shoulder and walking away glumly. It was harsh but it's true and I've run out of patience. I usually pride myself on the hold I have over my temper, but whilst I didn't shout, I definitely lost my temper today.

On the walk, I wonder whether this entire week has been an elaborate set up to embarrass me, or perhaps a vengeful plan. Was the thought of being with me publicly so repulsive to him that he felt the need to do this?

I'm broken from my thoughts when I feel a sharp pain in my wrist, burning so viciously, tearing up my arm that I'm lost for breath. I know that this pain isn't mine and I clench my eyes shut, gritting my teeth so as not to scream. This time it hurts like a bitch, more than anything I've ever felt before and I struggle to even draw in a breath.

I lean against the wall of a building for a moment, knowing I have to turn back. I have to make sure Sam's okay. After all, this is only an echo of his pain, right?

My forehead is slick with sweat but I stagger forwards, moving back in the direction that I came. My eyes are desperately trying to focus but huge spots of black cloud my vision. That's not good.

The burning sensation runs further up my arm and I inhale deeply, groaning lowly at the pain. I finally spot Sam, only by the colour of my shirt that he's wearing and move towards him. He's struggling to get up, cradling his wrist to his chest. I quickly assume that he fell, probably whilst running to catch up with me and I internally groan. Of course, this was all my fault.

He bends his wrist slightly, wincing and that seems to be the last straw for me. The black spots grow larger, engulfing my vision entirely until I feel like I'm falling. An earth shattering crack confirms to me that I had been falling and I finally allow myself to succumb to the darkness. The pain in my skull and both my wrists all acting as gladiators, willing to fight to the death and I am helpless to stop them.

_

When I eventually feel myself coming back to the real world, the first thing I notice is that my entire body aches. Everything in me aches. I've never experienced this before and personally, I'd like this time to be the last time.

My eyes are still closed, feeling far too heavy to open just yet. I twitch my fingers and my toes, pleased that they all seem to be in working order.

My right wrist is heavier than usual and my head is pounding which aren't good signs.

I groan quietly, finally wrenching my eyes open and cast a quick glance around. It's dark outside and my right wrist is encased in a cast. I don't remember doing that. I wrack my brain but find that everything seems a little fuzzy.

I take a deep breath and remind myself of what I do know.

My name is Elias Grey.

I am 20 years old.

My best friend is Sam Rivera.

Sam, he broke his wrist! I'm almost certain of it, I'm certain I felt it, but not in my right wrist. I glance between my hands, puzzled as I try and recall what happened.

Never mind, keep going.

I am at university studying English Literature.

I live with my best friend in a flat.

This is good, keep going, keep thinking of things we know, things that we are sure of.

I am irrevocably in love with my best friend.

Oh, I hadn't even thought of that one, it had just leapt into my mind but now that I think of it, yes, I am in love with him. Unbearably so. I know his favourite foods, his favourite music, I know his favourite places to go and his least favourite books. I know his family, his childhood, and he knows mine. We share everything, including pain.

It comes back to me more easily now. The pain that I had felt that day, when was it? Yesterday perhaps? Maybe even today? I flinch just thinking about it, tentatively fidgeting with the bandage covering my head.

I notice a call button and push it, wondering if maybe they could be less stingy with the pain killers. A nurse pops his head through the door only moments later and I watch as he smiles happily.

"About time you woke up, how're you feeling?" He asks and I shrug, frowning.

"Like I was hit by a truck." I answer honestly and he laughs, leaning forward to fiddle with something attached to my arm.

"You'll feel better momentarily. Do you remember anything?" He asks softly and I nod.

"Everything, pretty much. Is Sam okay?" I ask, already feeling lighter, happier from the drugs he'd just administered.

"Is Sam the one who brought you in?" He asks, flipping through his notes as I nod lazily.

"We treated him for a broken wrist, although he was far more concerned about you. We had to call his family to take him home for the night." He confesses and I laugh dreamily.

"That sounds like him." I mumble.

"Do you want me to notify him that you're awake?" He asks but I shake my head vehemently.

"No! No, let him rest. You can morning him in the call." I mutter, my eyes closing entirely by themselves. I'm pretty sure that made sense?

"I'll leave you to rest. Press the button if you need anything else." He instructs but I'm too far gone, drifting into sleep again.

When I wake up the second time, I feel far less exhausted which is a welcome feeling. A lively nurse delivers breakfast, commenting on my lovely 'new hat' which, in reality, is a slightly bloody bandage. I thank her anyway. I pick at the food, not feeling very hungry, only eating to pass the time.

My doctor finally makes an appearance and removes my bandage, replacing it with a new one; no blood this time.

"So, we ran a few tests when you came in and your blood cell counts were very low, do you know why that would be?" He asks, finishing wrapping my head as I shrug.

"Hm, well you only fainted, which is the good news but the bad news is we're going to have to keep you another night to watch that injury. Head injuries are very unpredictable and we need to be certain that you're not suffering from concussion or any internal injuries." He explains and I nod, not feeling very reassured.

"Do you have any idea why you fainted?" He enquires, standing a little further back.

"I was in quite a lot of pain, I felt as though I couldn't breathe." I explain and he looks puzzled.

"Pain from your wrist?" He asks and I nod.

"I thought you broke it when you fell?" He says curiously, looking over his notes and I look down sheepishly.

"Oh, well, my mistake. I'm sure you'll be more careful next time." He says cheerfully and I smile half-heartedly.

"Oh, and I've notified the man who brought you in that you're awake, as well as your father. Both should be on their way as I speak." He says, walking out of the room. I lean my head back, groaning at the prospect of dealing with my dad.

Maybe I'll trick the nurse into giving me a little more morphine, that's sure to make it bearable. I plot how I'll be able to do just that when I'm interrupted by a shouting in the corridor.

I recognise the voice as Sam's, although he doesn't sound very happy.

"Yes mum, I'm here now! I don't know how he is? I haven't seen him yet! I wouldn't have to keep you waiting if you would just get off the damn phone!" He says agitatedly and I smile to myself. There's a knock at the door only a moment later and he lets himself in quietly.

As soon as he sees I'm awake he barrels into the room, engulfing me in a hug and clanking his cast (on the left hand) against the bottom of my neck.

"Ow." I mumble and Sam draws away from me with a guilty look on his face.

"Sorry, this darn thing sure does get in the way." He says, waving it around.

"How're you feeling?" He asks after a moment of silence. I sigh, tempted to respond with a shrug but knowing that he'd probably kill me for it.

"I'm fine, for the most part." I admit, holding up my wrist.

"We match." He says, although his expression is gloomy. I'm quiet, trying to read his body language but he seems so distant, so closed off from me.

"It hurts like a bitch." He finally admits and my heart stops.

My eyes are wide, my pulse racing and my heart in my mouth as I try and think of what to say. It's not the time or the place, but all I can think is no. I've failed. The one thing I do better than anyone else is protect Sam. Protect him from the pain of the world so that he doesn't have to experience it.

And now I don't because he can feel it. For the first time since we were eight I can't feel him, not in the way that I used to be able to. That realisation is killing me.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He demands, his eyes boring into mine, his steely gaze never once faltering. I briefly consider lying, pretend not to know what he's talking about but there's no point now. He must have figured it out, I was in so much pain and he could see me, but I hadn't fallen yet, my wrist was still in-tact and my head was above ground. My worst nightmare is finally coming true.

"You know why. The guilt would have eaten you alive." I respond, as confidently as I can but my tone just sounds defeated.

He looks down for a moment, presumably mulling over what I said. He interlocks his fingers, wringing them together before sitting back in the seat beside my bed.

"How long?" He asks, looking me in the eye again. I silently plead him, beg him not to make me answer this question but his gaze is unrelenting.

"Since we were eight." I say, my voice soft as a whisper but he hears it loud and clear.

"You understand how crazy this all is right? I thought there was something wrong with me for so long, because every time I tripped or bumped my knee I wouldn't feel a thing!" He says, looking truly angry at me.

"You don't have to tell me, Sam. I felt everything you were supposed to, I was a freak too!" I argue but he shakes his head.

"No, you could have stopped it. You could have made it stop." He insists but I shake my head.

"I don't know how I did it and I have no idea how it stopped." I state, his jaw slackening slightly.

"Why? Why did you do it?" He demands, his eyes burning fiercely.

"Because I care. That day, on the slide, you asked, begged me to make it stop!" I explain as he shakes his head, scoffing at the notion.

"Care? You have no idea what that word means, you don't know what caring is, what love is!" He argues viciously, pointing towards my chest.

"Yes, I do." I state, never surer of myself.

Sam rolls his eyes, scoffing at my words as though they're ludicrous.

"Who then? Who do you love?" He asks, his eyes narrowed and arms folded across his chest. My head is hurting, pounding inside my skull from the sudden influx of noise but I can't stop now. Because even if this is the last place I wanted to tell him, the right moment is finally here. I can't deny Robin the promise I made her, because I finally understand what she meant.

Be honest with him, Eli. He depends on you for it.

I have to be honest and forward, because my deepest and darkest desires will remain fleeting dreams if I'm not. I'm the risk taker, in this situation at least, because Sam would never risk me. But I've seen what we could have and it's beautiful. It's worth the risk, because in truth, there's no real risk at all. I'm already his, if he'll have me.

So, I take a breath and let the words that have been lingering, teetering on the tip of my tongue free fall.

"I love you."