You got it

It’s finally the day you get to see Dirk in person. He suggested you two meet a few weeks ago and you guys have not stopped talking about it since. Endless plans have been made; you are sure there will not be a boring moment. All that is left to do is sit in the airport and wait for Dirk’s plane to arrive. 

The plane is said to arrive at 9:30am. You check your watch, it is 9:28am. Yes! Only a few more minutes! you think to yourself. You are practically bursting with excitement. You cannot wait to see his face. (You have only seen pictures) You are looking forward to running up to him, hugging him, feeling his way-too-blonde, spiky hair. Butterflies fill your stomach, fluttering around with the same restlessness that you are feeling. 

Before you know it, his plane has landed. Getting lost in your thoughts sure helped the short window of time pass quickly. You immediately run up to the gate he should be entering. Just outside of the expansive windows, you see ambulances. You try to assume it is just for precaution, but there are too many people gathering around for it to be “standard procudure.”

Anxiously biting your nails, you silently pray for the ambulance to be for someone else—anyone else. It is an awful thought to think, but that isn’t important at the moment. All you care about it your friend being alright.

Sadly, you have awful luck. Not only is Dirk rushed off the plane before anyone else, he is in a stretcher with blood all running down his neck.

“DAD! WE HAVE TO GO TO THAT AMBULANCE NOW!” Not waiting for a response, you immediately run towards your bleeding friend and jump in the ambulance, yelling that he is your friend and you need to be with him. They allow you to ride, but only for the sake of getting to the hospital as fast as possible. The whole ride to the medical center is tension in the ambulance, attempting to stop the blood but not touch anything too much. You do not hear any of the commotion, for you are too busy staring at Dirk. You did not want your first meeting to happen like this. You didn’t want your first view of his face to be tainted by blood. It isn’t a terrible amount of blood, but it is enough to fear for the speed of his recovery. 

Finally reaching the hospital, you are forced to linger in the waiting room until they say Dirk’s life is 100% safe and and surgeries required are done with. One hour later, that time comes. You rush and practically trip over everything in the hallways on your way to his room. There, he lays, partially awake. You are careful not to hug him for fear of irritating and wounds; instead you place your hands on his chest. 

“Dirk…” you whisper. Your father leaves the room, realizing how important this moment is. He opens his eyes a bit and looks at you, giving the warmest assurance he is capable as a strider along with the pain. He opens his mouth, but the no sound escapes. He makes a frustrated face and relaxes, sinking his head into the thin hospital pillow as much as he can. 

You fall to your knees. If he lost his voice forever, this means you will never hear it. He can never say hello to you. He can never say anything to you or to anyone. How did this happen?

You stand up and look over at the doctor, just stepping in the doorway. “What happened?” you breath shakily and, almost, angrily. 

“Calm down sweetie. You must care about him an awful lot. Are you two dating?” he asks in the most casual tone. His happiness pisses you off to no end.

“Just. Tell. Me. What. Happened.” With clenched fists and clenched teeth, you struggle to keep your voice down. 

“There seemed to be some terror attack,” the doctor informs. “not to everyone, just him, for some reason. We have the man in custody but he will not reveal his true identity. He keeps saying he is ‘Spades Slick’ but that cannot possibly be a real name. We do not know of any animosity between the two. We think this ‘spades’ guy just likes to stab. He has stabbed Mr. Strider here in the trachea. We have done what is necessary before it could become too bad and, possibly, deadly. However, he may never be able to speak again.”

And boom, your face is wet. After that last sentence, you could not hold in any grief. Tears a dropping and you are, once again, kneeling by Dirk’s bed. Never before have you thought anything was your fault more than you do now. He looks over at you and gives you a small smile while reaching to caress your head. His hand trails down and grabs your hand. He pulls it towards his mouth, and gently kisses it, mouthing “everything will be okay.” You squeeze his hand and smile as genuinely as you are able to at the moment. 

Tests are run, doctors come in and out, and you have fallen asleep, clutching Dirk’s arm. Morning arrives and you notice you have been moved onto the cot Dirk had been sleeping on. Dirk is up, sitting in a chair across the room, eating a cinnamon-raisin muffin. You worry about him having gotten up so you could sleep, but then you feel the spot next to you is still a bit warm. He slept next to you, arms around you judging by the the faint hand prints above your left elbow. 

You get up and bounce over to him, hoping the non-talking was a dream. He doesn’t say a word, sealing in your memories as fact. He wraps an arm around your waist and mouths “good morning princess.” You laugh, still reminiscent of those tears from the day before. He simply continues squeezing his arm around your waist. All you can do is smile like an idiot and cry in his arms. He, willingly, holds you and allows you to do just that. 

He would be released from the hospital in a matter of hours. You promise him that the first thing you would do together is sign up for sign language classes—for both of you. That is how much you care. He loves you, and it is obvious that you love him back. Together you will conquer this roadblock. Muteness won’t stop you from hearing what he has to say.

I’m sorry if it’s a bit lengthy and I wasn’t sure how or where to end it so it is a tad shaky. I apologize.