Whoever Designed Hospital Beds Forgot To Actually Make Them Comfortable. Goodness Gracious, Either I'm

Whoever designed hospital beds forgot to actually make them comfortable. Goodness gracious, either I'm getting older or I'm sleeping on concrete.

"Tomorrow, I think.."

Adam roughly remembered how to get there. I mean, he had litterally dragged his own half-dead body out of that hell hole. But what was on his mind was why the fuck would this happen? Sure, he was fucked up. David was fucked up. But Specs? He was perfect.

He drove as fast as he could, till he got there

Specs looked up from where he was slumped against the wall when he saw his brother's headlights. Unsteadily, he stood up, holding onto the grimy brick walls for support.

He was missing his iconic glasses, the skin on his hands and face red and irritated. His clothes, a simple t-shirt and jeans, were wrinkled and bloodied. There seemed to be no wounds on his body, though.

"Adam," he choked.

"Still.." He scratched the back of his head.

".. Do you have a phone I could borrow? I've been trying to get ahold of Tucker all night. The phones here suck. And I should probably call David, too.. This'll be the last favor I ask for, I promise."

Adam roughly remembered how to get there. I mean, he had litterally dragged his own half-dead body out of that hell hole. But what was on his mind was why the fuck would this happen? Sure, he was fucked up. David was fucked up. But Specs? He was perfect.

He drove as fast as he could, till he got there

Specs looked up from where he was slumped against the wall when he saw his brother's headlights. Unsteadily, he stood up, holding onto the grimy brick walls for support.

He was missing his iconic glasses, the skin on his hands and face red and irritated. His clothes, a simple t-shirt and jeans, were wrinkled and bloodied. There seemed to be no wounds on his body, though.

"Adam," he choked.

"Thanks.." He tried David first, given that would probably be the shorter of the two calls. Went straight to voicemail. Then Tucker. It rang a few times, but eventually went to voicemail as well. "Damn.."

Adam roughly remembered how to get there. I mean, he had litterally dragged his own half-dead body out of that hell hole. But what was on his mind was why the fuck would this happen? Sure, he was fucked up. David was fucked up. But Specs? He was perfect.

He drove as fast as he could, till he got there

Specs looked up from where he was slumped against the wall when he saw his brother's headlights. Unsteadily, he stood up, holding onto the grimy brick walls for support.

He was missing his iconic glasses, the skin on his hands and face red and irritated. His clothes, a simple t-shirt and jeans, were wrinkled and bloodied. There seemed to be no wounds on his body, though.

"Adam," he choked.

"Yeah." Specs paused. ".. I shouldn't be this upset over a pair of glasses."

Adam roughly remembered how to get there. I mean, he had litterally dragged his own half-dead body out of that hell hole. But what was on his mind was why the fuck would this happen? Sure, he was fucked up. David was fucked up. But Specs? He was perfect.

He drove as fast as he could, till he got there

Specs looked up from where he was slumped against the wall when he saw his brother's headlights. Unsteadily, he stood up, holding onto the grimy brick walls for support.

He was missing his iconic glasses, the skin on his hands and face red and irritated. His clothes, a simple t-shirt and jeans, were wrinkled and bloodied. There seemed to be no wounds on his body, though.

"Adam," he choked.

"I should, yeah.. Somewhere in my nightstand. They don't have the little lights, though. Those were so damn cool.."

Adam roughly remembered how to get there. I mean, he had litterally dragged his own half-dead body out of that hell hole. But what was on his mind was why the fuck would this happen? Sure, he was fucked up. David was fucked up. But Specs? He was perfect.

He drove as fast as he could, till he got there

Specs looked up from where he was slumped against the wall when he saw his brother's headlights. Unsteadily, he stood up, holding onto the grimy brick walls for support.

He was missing his iconic glasses, the skin on his hands and face red and irritated. His clothes, a simple t-shirt and jeans, were wrinkled and bloodied. There seemed to be no wounds on his body, though.

"Adam," he choked.