You laid unmoving in that hospital bed.

Keegan sat on a chair next to you, mask still lacing his face with a stiff look

“You’re bad friend.”

He began, tone traced with malice and grief.

“Do you have any idea what I’d have to go through if you had died today?”

he continued

“Tears of guilt, crippling, self loathing guilt.”

He paused

“Not to mention the resentment I’d feel if I was forced to break in a new drinking buddy.”

that bullet was meant for him.