The last thing he remembered was forgetting Jal's name. It was fucking mental, really-- how could he have forgotten Jal's name? Jal was his fucking world, she was. The one person who gave enough of a shit to get him to try, and suddenly he couldn't remember her name, only that he needed to show her...
...show her something.
That was the thing about brain hemorrhages, the pain was so much that you couldn't properly remember your own name, let alone the love of your life's. It was probably just as well; Jal was brilliant and it was really only a matter of time before she was gone anyway, off to music college to become something great, leaving him behind with his extra hole near his balls and his flat that wasn't really his anyway. That was how it always went, and even if Chris wanted to think that love could conquer something as fucked up as what he and Jal had gone through, his past had told him differently.
Either way, his head fucking hurt.
Somewhere in the background, he thought he heard Cassie, yelling or leaving or something, but with his hands over his ears and his eyes shut tight to keep the world from both spinning and blurring, he couldn't be sure. He used to like it when things spun and blurred, when the lights were bright and the music was so loud it was hard to think about anything else, but this was different. It was like his fucking head was about to split open or something, like the worst headache or hangover in the world.
Maybe this was it, then. He didn't know what dying felt like-- despite having been properly dead for three whole minutes-- but this felt fucking awful enough that it had to be it, right? The end. If it hadn't been for how much pain he was in, he might've wondered just what was going to happen to him after. He didn't know if he believed in clouds and harps and angels and all that, but if that sort of thing was true, at least he'd get to see Peter again. That'd be alright.
But suddenly, just when Chris was sure he couldn't take the pain anymore, when it felt like his head actually would split open, it all stopped. Like someone had turned off a switch or something. The pain was gone-- which was fucking brilliant, by the way-- and he felt normal again, like it had never even happened. It didn't make any sense, but he wasn't about to question it.
He took his hands away from his face and opened his eyes...
...and then immediately closed them, and tried it over again. This wasn't his room. It wasn't his bed. And he definitely didn't remember lying next to whoever this was lying next to him.
"...what the fuck?"