The morning sun filtered through the blinds, highlighting the layer of dust on the hospital monitors and the sheer exhaustion etched into Ethan's face. He was still sitting in the same vinyl chair, his hand never more than an inch away from Annie's, when the door creaked open.
Ellie and Riley stepped in, bringing with them the scent of the crisp outdoors and fresh coffee- a sharp contrast to the stagnant, clinical air of Room 412. Ellie stopped dead in her tracks two feet from the bed, her nose wrinkling in immediate distaste.
"God, Ethan," Ellie gagged, waving a hand in front of her face. "I smelled you from the nurse's station. You seriously stink. Like, 'wet dog in a locker room' levels of bad."
Ethan didn't even look up from Annie's hand. He just shrugged his shoulders, which were stiff from ten weeks of poor posture. "It's not that bad, El. It's just... the scent of dedication."
"It's the scent of a biohazard," Riley added, leaning against the wall, though he was looking at Annie with a soft, guarded curiosity.
Annie, propped up against the pillows and looking slightly more alert than the day before, glanced over at Ethan. She took a tentative sniff of the air and then looked at him with a mixture of pity and amusement.
"I wasn't going to say anything because I reallydo appreciate the company," Annie whispered, her voice still raspy but regaining its melodic lilt. "But... they're right. You do stink, Ethan. Please, go home. Take a shower, eat a meal that didn't come out of a spiral metal coil, and sleep in a bed that doesn't have wheels."
Ethan looked at her, his green eyes searching hers for any sign of a memory, but finding only that gentle, polite kindness. It stung, but her concern for him was a balm he hadn't expected.
"You're sure?" Ethan asked, his voice cracking. "I can just wash up in the sink again."
"Ethan. Go," Annie insisted, pointing toward the door with a weak but commanding finger. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here when you get back."
With a heavy sigh and a final, lingering squeeze of her hand, Ethan stood up. His joints popped audibly. He nodded to Ellie and Riley- a silent warning to look after her, and shuffled out of the room, looking like a man who had finally been granted a reprieve from a war.
As the door clicked shut, the room fell into a sudden, awkward silence. Annie looked at the two teenagers standing at the foot of her bed. To her, they were strangers- vivid, energetic people who seemed to know her, but whom she couldn't place in any corner of her mind.
"So," Annie said, breaking the quiet. "I'm guessing you're the friends Ethan mentioned? I'm sorry, but... I don't really know who you are."
Ellie's face fell, a rare flash of genuine hurt crossing her features before she masked it with her usual bravado. "I'm Ellie. We're... we're best friends, Annie. Well, we were starting to be. You were the only person in this town who didn't give me a headache."
Riley stepped forward, a playful, shark-like grin spreading across his face. Unlike Ellie, he wasn't mourning the lost months. In fact, he felt a surge of illicit excitement.
To him, this was a reset button. He'd spent months watching Annie pining over Ethan or dealing with Margaret's drama. Now? Now she was a blank slate.
"And I'm Riley," he said, his voice dropping into a smooth, practiced baritone. He moved to the edge of the bed, leaning in just a bit too far into her personal space. "The guy who was probably your favorite person to see in the hallways. Don't worry about the memory loss, Honey. Some things are better left forgotten, so we can make better ones."
Ellie rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. "Riley, shut up. She just woke up from a coma, she doesn't need your bargain-bin flirting."
Riley ignored her, his eyes locked on Annie's. "You look beautiful, by the way. Comas usually make people look like prunes, but you've got this 'ethereal goddess' thing going on. It's working for me."
Annie blinked, unimpressed. Even without her memories of the last eight months, her internal compass for "player behavior" was functioning perfectly. She didn't flinch or blush, she just stared at him with a cool, detached clarity.
"Thank you, Riley," Annie said, her voice flat. "But if I'm an 'ethereal goddess,' then you should probably know that goddesses don't usually date guys who use lines they found on the back of a gum wrapper. Maybe back up a few feet? The air is a bit thin in here."
Ellie snorted, a loud, triumphant sound. "Boom. Shut down. See? Even with half her brain rebooting, she still knows you're a loser."
Riley didn't look discouraged. In fact, his grin widened. He loved the friction. He loved the way she didn't just fall for the charm, he had always been a sucker for a girl who made him work for it, and the rejection felt like an invitation to try harder.
"I like the fire," Riley murmured, finally stepping back but keeping his eyes on her. "It's okay. I like a challenge. We have plenty of time for me to win you over again."
"I wouldn't bet on it," Annie replied, a small, tired smile touching her lips. She looked toward the door where Ethan had disappeared. "I think my heart might already be spoken for, even if my head can't remember why."
Ellie sat in the chair Ethan had vacated, leaning forward. "He's a mess, Annie. But he's your mess. Riley is just... a mess in general."
"Hey!" Riley protested, though he was smiling. "I'm a charming mess."
Annie leaned back, the exhaustion of the conversation starting to pull at her. She looked at these two- the girl who looked like she wanted to fight the world for her, and the boy who was shamelessly trying to flirt with a girl in a hospital gown.
They were pieces of a life she didn't know yet, but for the first time since waking up, she felt like she might actually want to learn who they were.