Chapter Text
The next time Jacob wakes up, he’s soaked in sweat. He groans as the realization triggers a shiver to run up his back.
Beside him, Caleb has shot up and is inspecting him with worry. “What’s wrong?” he asks, placing his palm to Jacob’s forehead.
Whatever medications he’s on have made his thoughts thicker. He tries searching for the words like he’s sifting for gold through mud.
“Cold…a-and hot,” he explains, but it sounds incoherent even to his own ears. The involuntary clenching of his muscles is causing him to strain his wound, which makes him wince through each shiver.
There’s a force pushing him back down (he hadn’t realized he’d been sitting upright): Caleb has a hand on his chest and the other cupping his neck. “It’s okay. Just try to relax.” Jacob allows himself to be guided back to the pillows. Caleb disappears below the bed, digging around for something Jacob can’t see. “I think your temp’s back up again.”
He emerges with a fuzzy sherpa blanket Jacob guesses he’d brought from home. Caleb drapes it over him, tucking it up to his shoulders, and it reminds him of how he used to do it for Caleb when they were young enough to be sharing the same room.
“I’ve…n-never seen your house,” he mumbles stupidly.
He waves him off, then returns his hand to Jacob’s forehead. The touch of cool skin to his burning face feels a little like heaven. “Ah, well, it’s nasty now. Turns out that cat I was chilling with wasn’t actually a cat.”
And Jacob can’t help it, that makes him laugh. Which, of course, only aggravates the pain in his side. He screws his eyes shut with regret. It’s nowhere near as bad as it was, but it’s still unpleasant.
Caleb reaches around him and messes with something.
“Gave you some more morphine,” he explains, “they told me if you felt any pain I should increase the drip for a few minutes.”
He yawns, “‘m gonna fall asleep again.”
Caleb chuckles, a hint of fondness in his voice. “Good. You need it. Gotta kick this fever, bud.” He bumps a straw against his lips. “I know you don’t feel good right now, but you should try to drink some of this.”
Jacob does as he’s told, and the cold water on his dry throat is nothing short of amazing. He drinks the whole thing, even when Caleb tells him to slow down. He didn’t even realize he was this thirsty. He opens his eyes heavily, watching his brother as he refills the cup for later, feeling gratitude bloom in his chest.
“You’re…taking care of me…” it comes out almost like a whisper. He sniffs around the ng tube. He’s beginning to feel the effects of the medicine, the heaviness returning to his limbs.
Caleb’s hand is back in Jacob’s hair, drawing gentle circles in his scalp, his own face flushing a little at the observation. “You need me,” he says plainly, “of course I am. I’ll always take care of you. You always took care of me.”
Jacob closes his eyes again and smiles faintly at him, losing the battle to consciousness, “Just, don’ let me sleep for too long…have study-guides to grade…”
–
“Jakey, hey.”
Something is shaking his shoulder, pulling him out of a warm dream where he was laying on the beach.
He groans.
“Hey, bro. You have visitors.”
He furrows his brow and peels open his eyes. He registers Caleb’s blurry face above him in the dim lights of the room; judging by the pinkish hues flooding in from the right, it’s nearly dusk out. Everything feels fuzzy, like at any moment he isn’t actively trying to stay awake he might slip back into unconsciousness.
“What time is it?” he asks groggily, but he doesn’t really care about the answer. He just wants Caleb to quit shaking him.
“6:45,” chirps a squeaky voice he can’t see.
Caleb finally moves out of the way and he sees Janine and Gregory standing in the threshold of the door.
“6:47, to be more exact,” comes Gregory’s deeper tone, but it holds a certain lightness to it, as though he’s worried if he speaks too loud he might scare Jacob like a wounded wild animal.
Jacob rubs some of the sleep out of his eye, not sure if he’s still dreaming. When the two are still there, he instinctively tries to sit up, but doesn’t get very far before he feels a familiar tug of pain across his abdomen. He can’t stop himself from audibly wincing.
Immediately, Caleb is guiding him back down. “Careful, Jakey. Here,” he presses a button on the side of the bed, and it starts to mechanically rise to better adjust his position for him.
Jacob sees Gregory and Janine share a worried glance. He waves them over, trying to ease some of the tension. “It’s okay, come in, please,” he says through a groan, which probably doesn’t help his case.
They pull up two chairs opposite to Caleb’s side. Janine finds his hand under the blankets and gives it a kind squeeze.
“How’re you holding up, man?” Gregory asks. Normally, Jacob recognizes that Gregory only asks that question as a pleasantry, but the expression he wears signals that he might actually want to know.
“I’ve…been better,” he answers, and it’s not exactly a lie. He’s struggling to put words to his thoughts. He wishes everything wasn’t so hazy so he could keep from upsetting his guests, and if he were sober he most likely would have just brushed off the question altogether. But he barely has the energy to keep his head up, even with the support of the pillows.
Janine shoots Gregory an indecipherable look before continuing, “We were both really worried about you after yesterday. Melissa told us you were really sick in the groupchat.”
“Oh, and Barbara wants you to know that she and Gerald are both praying for you,” Gregory adds.
He smiles, trying to ignore the embarrassment of everyone knowing he’s basically an invalid right now.
“I’m just so glad you’re okay, Jacob. I wasn’t sure if you’ve been getting any of my texts,” she pulls out her phone and shows him a wall of one-sided messages.
Caleb pipes up behind him, “Oh, he’s been sleeping the whole day.” He raises a hand sheepishly to the back of his neck, “Also, Melissa told me not to let you have your phone, so you could rest. Sorry bro.”
On any other day, Caleb speaking for him might have annoyed him, but right now he’s just grateful that he doesn’t have to sift through his thoughts to turn them into words.
“Ah, so that explains it. I sent you, like, fifteen game pigeons in case you got bored,” she chuckles. “I thought it was weird that you kept beating me in archery.”
“Caleb loves archery,” he murmurs, “...guess you…have that in common.”
“Yeah, that game slaps. Great minds think alike!” His brother holds out a fist across the bed, and Janine bumps it with her own, slightly baffled.
“Um…could I…have the– my phone back?” he pauses for a beat to gather the words, “I have, um, some…hand-outs to, uh, grade.”
“No shot, kid,” comes a voice from the door. Melissa walks in with two tupperwares in hand, looking more put together than she was this morning. “As long as you can’t walk, you aren’t allowed to work. Dr. Schemmenti’s orders.” She sits down next to Caleb.
A flash of clarity hits him, and he gasps. “Ohh, crap…they had their tests today! Ava’s gonna kill me if I don’t, uh, get the scores into the…the thing, by Friday.”
Janine squeezes his hand again. “Not if you beat her to it. You gotta give yourself a break, bud.”
“But I should’ve been there. They get nervous–” he forgets himself and tries to sit up again, only succeeding in causing himself more pain, face morphing into a wince.
“Woah, woah. Take it easy Jakey, please,” Caleb forces him back down, “you’re gonna hurt yourself.”
Gregory pats him on the shin. “Jacob, please don’t worry about that. Ava understands, and she doesn’t expect that from you right now.” Jacob opens his mouth to splutter something else, but he cuts him off, “I took over for your class and the sub taught mine. Your kids did fine. If anything, they were asking about you more than the test.”
Jacob has no idea what to say to that, still recovering from the fresh lapse of throbbing. He gathers himself after a moment, breathing shallowly around the tube in his nose and resting his head back on the pillows. He sees his brother reaching behind him again out of his peripheral vision. “I–,” his abdomen clenches involuntarily, “I don’t, um, understand.”
Melissa leans into his field of vision. “He’s saying your kids aren’t dumb. They knew something was up yesterday when you kept disappearing. You should be proud they aren’t; you made ‘em that way.”
He watches her whisper something into Caleb’s ear, only catching the last part of his brother’s response.
“...still got a fever, though.”
“Uh oh,” Janine gets his attention again, looking down at her phone, “Barbara’s asking for pictures as proof of life.”
Gregory takes it from her and flips the camera around, holding it out to fit everyone in the frame with his long arm.
“Everyone say, ‘not dead’!” Melissa jokes.
“Not dead!”
He passes the phone back to Janine, as a new doctor comes into the room. She holds an iPad in her hands and pushes a rolling tray with various medical equipment on it.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Obinabo. Sorry to bother you all,” she says, picking up a translucent pouch of fluid, “but it’s time for the next round of antibiotics.”
Melissa and Caleb get up to give her space as she replaces it on the rack, hooking it up to his IV line.
“You’re quite the popular man, Mr. Hill,” she comments, “you’ve got a lot of people who care about you.” She types something out on her tablet and walks over to his other side. “I’m just gonna lift up the sheet for a bit to check on your catheter and drainage line. Is that okay?”
None of those words make sense to him, so he just nods his assent tiredly. He can still see Melissa and Caleb chatting quietly against the doorframe, and wonders why they look so serious.
Dr. Obinabo fiddles a bit with the tube sticking out of his side. A crease appears between her brows as she handles it.
“Is something wrong?” Janine asks, concern coloring her tone.
She looks up at Jacob to make sure he’s still alert. “Have you been experiencing any discomfort around the wound?” The question is clinical, professional.
“...Um, yeah. I can’t really do anything besides lay here. It’s kinda painful.”
“Hmm, okay,” she turns to Janine and Gregory, “would you guys mind giving us some privacy for a minute?”
Gregory nods, and ushers her out of the room, taking Melissa with them.
“Hey, Ms. Doctor-lady, is everything cool?” Caleb has come back to the bed, resting a hand on Jacob’s shoulder.
“It should be, but I believe there’s a clot in his tubing. Has anyone come by to check this today?”
“...I-I’m not sure…” Jacob watches his brother’s face.
“No, not while I’ve been here,” he confirms. “They looked at other stuff, though. Oh, uh, he’s still got a temperature, is that normal?”
She uncaps the bulb at the end of the tube, then starts gently pulling on it. Jacob sees something thick and red plop into the end, then she squeezes the bulb part and replaces the cap. She addresses Caleb again.
“We found an abscess during his surgery; his appendix was leaking into his abdominal cavity, a condition called peritonitis. The tube is there to help drain it while we flush out the infection, but it’s probably been blocked for a few hours. His blood clotted, but don’t worry, I’ve removed it. Hopefully that should help with the discomfort.” She grabs a device from her tray and uses it to scan his ear, then types out her findings. “Okay, I’ll come back in a while to check on it, and we’ll work on getting that fever down in the meantime. Here,” she adjusts something on his IV line, “this will help with the pain.”
She leaves quickly after that, but he can hear the faint cadence of Melissa’s voice interrogating her outside the door.
Jacob swallows, unsure how to feel. He turns to Caleb, who’s settled back down in his old chair.
“Was…was that my fault?” he asks wetly. He isn’t sure why Caleb would know; he’s told him countless times that Jacob has the brains between the two of them. But Caleb just smiles back at him with all the confidence in the world.
“Nah, Jakey. None of this is.”
“‘m sorry, Caleb.” He doesn’t really know why he’s apologizing, just feels like he’s made everything worse all of a sudden. A couple fat tears roll down his face.
“Hey, hey,” Caleb wipes his face with his thumb, uncharacteristically gentle given the amount of strength he possesses. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for, alright? You’re sick; you’re not thinking straight. Everybody here only wants to help you. Here,” he grabs the cup of water and holds the straw up to his lips so Jacob can drink, and he does. “That’s a man. There ya go.”
“Thanks,” he sniffles once he’s finished. God, I’m so emotional.
There’s a click from under him, and the bed starts to tilt back. Once it settles, Caleb replaces his hand back on his forehead, and it feels soothing. Cool. He allows his eyes to shut again, static calling him back down into sleep.
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” he hears, “you just focus on getting better, ‘kay?”
But he’s already out.
–
After Melissa finishes her spat with the nurses, she comes back to tell Caleb to go home.
“No way,” he tells her. “I’m staying. You should go, it’s almost the end of visiting hours and you have to work in the morning, anyway.”
They bicker back and forth like that for a few minutes, but in the end Caleb comes out victorious, on the condition that he eats some of the soup she brought.
He understands her apprehension about leaving. He’d been filling her in on the details while Dr. Obinabo was doing her rounds. She’d shook her head when he’d told her that Jacob was still feverish and unable to hold down anything on his own. He was honest when he told her his concerns, and she didn’t lie when she told him that she shared his worries.
“But, between the two of us, he’ll be alright.”
Caleb shook his head. “I know, you’re right. But Jakey hates being in hospitals, you know? And he doesn’t like it when other people try to help him.”
She’d smiled then. “Well, he seems to tolerate it when it’s you. Besides, he doesn’t get a choice, not with the stunt he pulled yesterday.”
It was meant to be a joke, but Caleb just sighed defeatedly.
“I’ve only seen him down like this a couple times, and…” he swallows, “it was never this bad. Melissa, I’m– it scared me. I hate this for him.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it with her thumb. “I know you are. I am, too. But it’s like you said: he needs you right now. With any luck he gets discharged in a few days and we can bring him home. All things considered, he’s pretty lucky it was just appendicitis. Can’t get more run-of-the-mill than that. But I get it.”
He blinked back the conduit of his own feelings, trying to hold it together the best he could. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with it alone. I should’ve picked up the phone sooner–”
That was when Janine and Gregory had stepped out, and a dozen alarm bells went off in his head.
But it’s fine. Everything would be fine.
He rests his head on the side of the mattress once he finishes his dinner. Jacob’s head is turned toward his, and his breath tickles Caleb’s nose. The beeping of the heart-monitor-thingy tells him that his brother is really fine.
Carefully, he brushes a curl away from his eyes, and rests the palm of his hand to his forehead like he’d been doing countless times today. Maybe he’s making it up out of his own exhaustion, but he swears that he feels a little less warm. He moves his hand down to sit on top of Jacob’s, and falls asleep that way.
-
“Right here Jakey. Hang on, I got you.”
Jacob allows Caleb to take his weight helping him sit down on Melissa’s couch. Caleb helps adjust his feet so he’s laying down, messing with the pillows until he’s satisfied that he won’t strain his neck.
It’s Friday, so Melissa is at work when Caleb finally gets to take him home, and he couldn’t be more grateful. He pulls the same throw he’d brought from his apartment over his legs, letting it drape up to his waist.
“Caleb, it’s okay, I got it–,” he begins.
“Jacob, it’s okay when I say it’s okay. I’m the boss right now, and my job is making you comfortable.” He finishes tucking it over his legs, then straightens up. “You hungry?”
Jacob shrugs. “Not particularly.”
“Well, I’m starving. Melissa left us some lasagna in the fridge. Be back in a sec– don’t move, you hear me?” He rushes off to turn on the oven.
Caleb opens the fridge and finds a tray covered in aluminum, topped with a sticky note in Melissa’s handwriting. For my boys.
He makes quick work of heating it up and serving it on two plates, giving Jacob a larger portion. Thankfully, he sees that Jacob hasn’t disobeyed his orders when he returns.
“There we go.”
He makes sure his brother starts eating before he digs in himself. He’d been surviving on hospital food for the past two days, and he could practically marry Jacob’s roommate just for her cooking alone. Of course, his haste in getting them food wasn’t without ulterior motives. He’d picked up a bag full of pill bottles at the pharmacy earlier, and was in no subtle way told that they all must be taken with food. Given Jacob’s recent track record of nausea, he decided he was better safe than sorry, even if the nurses discharging him told him that the first thing he needed to do once they were home was make sure Jacob took his meds.
He carefully pours out the dosages into his palm before handing the pills to Jacob, chuckling at the various colors they came in. “Rainbow meds for my rainbow guy.”
“Oh my God, stop it.” Jacob rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “You know you have about an hour before I’m too doped up to listen to any of your instructions,” he warns.
Caleb smiles back, writing down the time and the list of medications on his notes app so he won’t forget later. Then he takes the plate off his brother’s lap and stacks it on his own. “I’ll be right back, okay? I got something for you.”
“Oh God, what is it?”
“Be patient, it’s a surprise!” he throws over his shoulder, shutting the kitchen door with his foot.
He can hear a muffled “you’re scaring me, Caleb!” from the living room.
Once he’s done rinsing the plates off in the sink and setting them in the dishwasher, he takes the large wrapped box from the counter. The paper is decorated with prints of historical figures he doesn’t recognize, but he’s sure Jacob will know.
“Okay, close your eyes,” he instructs, and Jacob does what he’s told, covering his face with his hands. He places it gently on his lap; it’s fairly light, but he doesn’t want to risk upsetting his wound anymore than he already accidentally has. “Okay, open them.”
Jacob drops his hands, his mouth falling open. “Caleb, what is this?” Caleb offers his arm so that his brother can sit up without straining himself, and Jacob wordlessly accepts, as has become their habit.
Caleb starts recording on his phone, making sure he’s getting Jacob’s reaction in the shot. As soon as Jacob notices, he puts his hand up to block his face.
“Caleb, stop recording, I look awful.”
“What do you mean? You look great.”
Jacob scoffs, “Maybe to you. I haven’t showered in four days.”
“Jakey, oh my God, just open it.”
His brother removes his hand to pick up his gift, inspecting the wrapping paper. “Is that– are these the Supreme Court Justices? Who is this from?”
Caleb parks himself on the ottoman, “Open it, and you’ll see.”
Jacob gives him one of his signature I’m-so-done-with-you faces, but he obeys. He unwraps it carefully, revealing the cardboard box closed awkwardly with scotch tape underneath. It takes him a few attempts of picking at it before he can get it open all the way. Inside is a layer of light blue tissue paper, and a notecard that reads: “To our favorite teacher. Get well soon, Mr. C!”
“What–?” he sputters, removing it to uncover stacks of paper goods: cardstock, printer, construction, even notebook, all decorated with various stickers and drawings and scrawled upon in handwriting with varying degrees of legibility.
He picks one up from the stack, pink construction paper adorned with calligraphed writing in highlighter and ballpoint pen. “Dear Mr. Hill,” he reads, unfolding it, “your class has been my favorite, not just this year, but out of all of them. On the first day of the semester, I was like, ‘no way they got the teacher from Dead Poet’s Society to teach us about founding fathers or whatever.’ I didn’t really care about history or government, but that was because I never had a teacher like you before. You taught me that there is power in the stories we tell and how they shape the way we think, and that there isn’t one right way to look at stuff. Because of you, I wanna become a historian. I hope you feel better soon, ‘cause you were looking crazy in our class on Tuesday, and Mr. Eddie is BORING. Lots of love, Anaise.” He flips the card over. “Oh, and P.S., I got my first A ever in your class.” He skims over it again, before setting it down on the ottoman and fishing for another.
The next one is scrawled across a notecard. “Dear Mr. C, thanks for always showing up on time, even when I don’t. I like your class because you let me roast you and don’t get mad about it like my other teachers. Also, you make learning about government interesting, and I really like the stuff you showed us from Malcolm X. But please don’t rap anymore, you got that cracker sense of rhythm. Oh and thanks for giving us these notecards at the beginning of the year, because I didn’t have any and it’s what I’m writing on now. I miss you and I hope you get better soon. God bless, Amir.”
He continues through the pile, going over each one aloud. Written on a piece of printer paper and modestly decorated with about a hundred rainbow stickers, he reads, “Mr. Hill. I found out you weren’t feeling good and you had to have surgery. I’m really sorry to hear that, and I’m praying for your speedy recovery. The things you taught me continue to stay with me even now, because you fundamentally changed the way I learned. And I wanted to let you know first that I got an early acceptance into Georgetown and will be pursuing a degree in political science. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me, even though I know I wasn’t the easiest kid to put up with. I realized recently that I’m a lot like you, and not just because I love learning. You changed my life. Thinking of you always–” Jacob breaks off, his eyes glisten and he has to set the card down. He lets out a shaky breath when he picks it back up. “Thinking of you always, Thomas Wilson.”
He pauses with a hand covering his mouth, and Caleb stops recording. “Hey, you okay man?”
Jacob allows the tears to fall as he nods, careful not to get them on the notes. After a moment, he whispers, “Caleb, Thomas was in my first class at Abbott.” He wipes his face with his sleeve. “I didn’t…I never knew whether I was getting through to them, you know? Whether I made an impact, but–” his voice cracks, and he can’t stop himself from crying.
Caleb puts his arm around him and brings him into a hug, letting Jacob lean his head on his shoulder while he lets it all sink in. Once he seems like he’s got a hold of his emotions, he sits back.
“Did you hear that? You’re changing their lives, bro. That’s what you do. So you gotta take care of yourself, for yourself and for them.”
Jacob nods. “I know. Thank you, Caleb.”
Caleb laughs. “Well don’t thank me. Melissa told me to record it, but it wasn’t my idea,” he gestures to the box, still full of notes Jacob hasn’t gotten to, “it was theirs. Gregory told her that they’d asked to do it.”
“...Wow.”
Something is poking at the edge of Caleb’s heart. Silence fills up between them, and he tries to ignore it, but it won’t leave him alone.
“Jacob…” he starts, unsure of how to phrase what he needs to say, “I don’t know how often I’ve told you this, but…I’m so proud to be your brother. I don’t think I said it enough when we were kids, but I always looked up to you. And I know it wasn’t easy living with Mom and Dad, especially toward the end, but when you left there wasn’t a day that went by where I didn’t think about you, and all the great things I knew you were doing. I’m glad that other people are able to see the awesomeness in you that I always have.”
“Caleb…”
“...And…and when Melissa called me and told me you were sick, I didn’t call her back first. I know it’s stupid, but I tried to call you. I guess I thought that if I could just hear your voice then it would mean that it wasn’t real. But,” he lets out a shaky breath, ducking his head because if Jacob keeps looking at him like that he’s not sure if he can get the next part out, “but you didn’t answer, obviously. And it hit me: that was the first time you hadn’t picked up the phone for me in years, maybe ever. And for a moment, just a second, I thought– I thought you were gone. That for the rest of my life I would have to go on without you, without my big brother. I’ve never been more scared in my life than I was then.
“And when I was driving to the hospital, I couldn’t stop thinking that this was it: you’d left me; left in the way that no one comes back from, you know what I mean? So when I saw you– saw that you were still here, and I could feel you, a-and it was real, and you just looked at me like nothing had happened…do you remember what you said, when you saw me? You said, ‘Caleb–’”
He loses his voice for a minute, pausing in his gesticulation, two hands palm up toward Jacob. He flexes his fingers, trying to unstick himself from reliving the terror of the memory.
Jacob takes both of his hands in his, and he swears that his brother’s hands are the size they were as children; so much bigger, able to carry everything the world handed him and more.
“It’s okay.”
Caleb finally brings himself to look him in the eye again. “I know that I get on your nerves like all the time, with riding your ass about stuff. But I just– I keep thinking, you know, what would Jacob do? He wouldn’t break down just– just cause he’s scared. He’d never run from this kinda thing, even though I know I hurt him. He would face it, guns blazing, like freaking Schwazenegger. And I thought, ‘you have to be his Jacob.’”
The dam Caleb has been building for the past week cracks, and he can’t hold in what he’s been trying to contain any longer. Suddenly he’s seven years old again, bawling uncontrollably because he can’t sleep. At some point he ends up kneeling on the floor, head in his brother’s lap, holding onto him like a log in a flood and scared that if he loosens his grip he’ll drown.
And Jacob just…runs his hand through his curls, does it like he always did, like he’d never stopped. Up and down, scratching those circles into his scalp because it’s all he can do. They stay like that, two boys of seven and nine in the dark of their room. Alone, but together.
When Caleb is finally able to look up again, he sees Jacob was crying with him.
“I’m still here,” he whispers. “I’ll always be here.” He runs his thumbs under Caleb’s eyes, getting rid of the tears.
Caleb moves so that he’s sitting next to him on the couch, taking in the sight of the most incredible person he’s ever known. Jacob settles his head on his shoulder, blinking slowly, the effects of his medications clearly catching up with him.
He leans back gently, and lets him use his chest like a pillow. He wraps his brother up in the blanket again, pulls it up to his chin so that he feels safe, then holds him in his arms to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.
-
If, three hours later, Melissa comes home to find the two snuggling together on her couch like kids, she doesn’t say anything. But she does turn the light off so her boys can rest.