"Don't be mad, okay?" The words escaped her lips too quickly, as if pulled out by an invisible string. They seemed to just hang in the stale air of the small hospital room. 

After a long pause, he answered. "Why would I be? It's not your fault. You didn't ask for this." The boy was sitting on an empty counter top, expression unreadable. "You know I could never be mad at you."

She grimaced and shook her head. "No- No. Not me. I mean them." She shook her head once more, and again with a finality, with no room for argument.

His face instantly went cold, and she shivered, but met his eyes stubbornly. 

"I'm not mad," he said carefully, crossing the room to tuck the starched white sheets more firmly around her small figure. "I'm just worried about you." She shook them free, shaking her head again. He frowned.

"Don't lie to me." She knew him too well, saw the tension in his defined shoulders and sculpted back. After all, he had promised to keep her safe, time and time again, and now she was lying helpless in a foreign hospital room.

In truth, he was furious, and he was fighting to veil the anger that ran rampant inside his muscled frame. There was a tiger tearing at his insides, and he was itching to let it loose at the men who had hurt the girl. But he knew that she would disapprove, so he kept it at bay. He stepped back, balling his fists behind his back, and schooled his features into a neutral, albeit slightly stormy expression. 

"Tommy, please," her voice softened. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but it really isn't their fault. Don't be mad." 

"What?" the harsh syllable came out louder than he expected, and the girl flinched. "Of course it's their fault, they're the ones that decided to beat you to pieces, Luce! They-" He took a deep breath. "There's no way it wasn't their fault, you gotta see that."

She had leaned back from him, and closed her eyes, and he immediately regretted his words. His eyes focused on the scratches down her small cheeks, the purple bruise swelling on her collarbone, and his heart ached. 

"I'm sorry. I think-" He sighed. "I think I'm more mad at myself than anything else. I wish I could have been here sooner." 

She shook her head, but said nothing. She was toying with the bracelet around her bony wrist, a purple homemade number that he had given her a while ago. Her fingertips were shaking.

"You know, it hurts." He laughed bitterly. "I could have stopped this. I could have been there for you, protected you from all this." He waved his hand in her general direction. "And now, seeing you so small and fragile and broken, it hurts." He turned and leaned on a table, facing away from the bed. "Damn it, Lucy, it's not fair. It should be me." He shook his head, turning back towards the girl. "It should have been me."

Her hands stopped, and she hesitated. "Everyone's broken," she said slowly, raising her head. "Everyone's fragile. Everyone's got their own insecurities, and doubts, and that's why I got jumped last night. Because two broken people hurt so much, so badly, and they needed to let that out." She bit her lip, and continued even quieter than before. "Tommy, it was Doug and Riley." 

He froze.

She continued quickly. "Don't- You can't do anything to them. It's not their fault, okay? You know they've had a tough time, and, well, I've just always been their punching bag. I don't mind-" she stopped."Let's just get them help, okay? Counseling, or, I don't know. Something.

We're all broken, Tommy, remember that. We're all broken."

"you were stoic. And I, well, I was not.

You see, music embodies emotion, and I know that I'm already an emotional person but I can't really help it. I guess I'm just made to always fog up every little detail with my worrying, but maybe emotions just work that way.

And that's why, I think, why I thought you would be clear, you would be simple. After all, you are music. Music is clear. Music is simple. Music makes sense, and I don't know why but I thought you would make sense too. 

I mean, music embodies emotion, and you are stoic. And I am not. So looking back at it, I can't believe I ever thought that you would make sense, that you would be clear, because you are just about the most frustrating person I have ever met in my lifetime. And that's quite an achievement.

But you, you are music. And music is supposed to make sense, but you taught me to push the envelope, go beyond my comfort zone. Friends first, but you were also my teacher, and I know teachers. Teachers teach concepts, facts, but you taught me ideas. You taught me, and I learned to love music more than I thought possible.

Yeah, you were really frustrating. But you found me when I was lost and alone, and you showed me that I wasn't. You were stoic, and I wasn't, but really, we were more alike than not. You're like the big brother I wish I had, and you've told me that I'm like a little sister, but honestly we're more like the same person. You're like me, only from the future, or something like that. Maybe that's why you were frustrating. 

But you are music. And I am too."