He didn't remember passing out.

One moment he was bleeding out in a dim alley, blood and rain soaking the cobblestone underneath him.

The next:

Bright lights. Sanitary smell. Beeping monitors. A dull ache in his ribs.

Where was- oh.

Five scowled. He hated hospitals. Too clean. Too quiet.

The door opened. His head snapped up. Bad idea. His ribs throbbed, and he guessed he was, unfortunately, going to be in the hospital for a while. Any pain was quickly forgotten, however, the second he saw your face.

You looked a mixture of concerned and worried as you rushed over to his bedside. "Are you okay?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but paused abruptly as he heard a nurse next to him laugh softly. To be honest, he hadn't even noticed she was there. He narrow his eyes at her, but then saw what she was laughing at.

His heart-rate had spiked the second you'd walked in.

You hadn't noticed. He turned back to you with a glare at the nurse. "Yeah. I'm fine."

You let out a breath, relief flooding your face as your fingers brushed his. Another stifled from the nurse.

He wanted to die.

Trying desperately to stop the heat rising to his face, he fixed his gaze on you. "What are you doing here?" You blinked. "Uh...they called me." A pause. "Am I your emergency contact?" Your tone was still serious, but he could see a glimmer of amusement in your eyes.

He had no idea. He hadn't even remembered listing one.

But here you were.

And strangely, he wasn't mad about it.