• Days in. Days out. She stared. She waited. She sat there, and expected him to open one eye and smile. Her family was beginning to become concerned. His band mates seemed a bit on edge too. Countless of projects and ideas and dreams had gone down the drain, after one little incident.

    That one little ******** incident had put James “Paris” Stephenson into a coma and nearly broke Ryoko’s heart.

    Renegade’s fashion designer and entrepreneur had given up on a majority of her dreams. Now only one remained, and that was for James to wake-up and live and remember. Wake up, remember, live. Was it really that hard? A week until graduation. She wanted him there. A week from when she proved to not be ‘nearly’ legal, but actually ‘legal’. A week. She had to wait a week before she could smile. It made her eyes sting, but they never fell. Fauxhawks, no more, now a choppy depressing brown mop upon the girl’s head, usually bright eccentric green eyes now dulled to a dark sea green. Aside from the lack of color in the woman’s face and clothing, it was more obvious of her depressive mood from the lack of piercings she would put in. None of the lip. None on her nose. None on her ears or brows or stomach or below. None.

    “Wake up, Paris. God, just please, please wake up…”

    The words were broken and just hanging on a very thin line of wire. Broken. Hurt. Pained. Sad. It was almost like those two weeks without discussion or contact with one another when they got into arguments. It was nearly the same. Nearly. Except neither of them would usually get hurt, in any way, aside from heartache.

    Why? Why did Paris have to look so peaceful in his coma? Why? Why did he not have his bright gaze? Why did he not have a cigarette in his mouth? Why was he in the god damn mother ******** coma?! Did he not realize that she needed him? Did he not realize that she had wanted him to stay with her? To stay by her side? And not as a god damn VEGETABLE?!

    Ryoko was in the worst depressive state of mind ever. Before, she was inspiring, creative, alluring, and absolutely phenomenal. Now? Ever since she heard the news of her…well…not boyfriend…or fiancé…Ever since she heard the news of her precious someone, she had been in a point of helplessness. She used to soar in the skies, free bird and all. But now? Her precious had fallen, and so had she. Like a wounded bird, scared to fly again. Where was he? She needed his support, even if it was a subtle one. She needed him. She ******** needed him.

    And he was comatose. And she felt like mauling the other victim of the car accident to little tiny pieces of grounded meat.

    “Paris….James. James. I need you. I need you, sweetie. Please, please James, please..."

    Her eyes stung and watered as she held his hand and pressed her cheek against the back of his. Her chapped lips brushed softly against the back of his hands as inaudible words escaped.

    “Wake up…”