Work Text:
Miguel walked through the door of Johnny's apartment, “Uhh… Sensei?” Miguel said in a hushed manner.
As he stepped forward, he was surprised at the pleasant smell of the apartment which had replaced the usual smell of alcohol and cigarettes. Miguel sighed, Johnny really was trying to be a better father for Robby.
As Miguel made his way into Robby's room he began to feel the sweltering heat that lay in the air, unmoving. As he pushed open the door he felt the hot, sticky air enter his lungs.
The air was thick and stagnant as Miguel entered Robby's bedroom. He was bombarded by a foul odour permeating the small space. The walls were covered in karate memorabilia, while the floor was littered with clothes and piles of dirty dishes. Dust particles danced in the beams of sunlight seeping in through the open window. The heat in the room was almost unbearable, and he could feel sweat starting to form on his brow.
On the bed was Robby, laying there, bright red and dangerously hot.
"Robby?!" Miguel said rushing to open a window
"H-hey miggy." He replied weakly.
"What the hell is going on, are you okay?"
"Mm"
Miguel lay his hand on Robby’s forehead and his hand began to burn.
"Holy shit we need to get you to the hospital!"
"I'm fine."
"Of course you're not, come here."
Miguel lifted Robby up into his arms, and began to walk outside. He struggled towards his moms car before opening the door and laying Robby in the back seat, strapping the seatbelt across his sweat soaked t-shirt. He opened the windows and closed the door before running inside his house to get his mom. Within seconds they both rushed out of the door and rushed into the car, Miguel choosing to sit next to Robby instead of sitting in the passenger seat. Then his mom began to drive.
Robby's head fell on to Miguel's shoulder and he hugged him tightly, "I don' feel well miggy."
"I know you don't, Robby" Miguel replied, biting his lip, "I know"
"I can't breathe properly, miggy"
"We're getting you there as fast as we can, you're going to be okay, I promise." But Miguel knew he couldn't promise that, after all he didn't even know what was wrong with Robby.
"Mig-" He didn't finish his sentence, instead his eyes closed slowly and his breath began to lighten.
—-----------------------
The only thing Miguel heard as Robby was rushed into the hospital was 'Septic shock'
He didn't know what it was, but he knew it couldn't be good.
The hospital hall was filled with fluorescent lights, each one buzzing loudly and casting a harsh and painful light on the sterile white walls. The air was still and stale, as if it had been standing still for far too long. The hum of machines and the constant chatter of hospital staff seemed to echo off the walls, making the atmosphere seem even more alien and uncomfortable. It almost felt like the walls were closing in on him, as if there was no way out of the place.
The air hurt Miguel's nose as he inhaled, stinging his sinuses. He felt like he was unable to move, instead he simply watched, listened, struggled to form any cohesive thought as he watched his boyfriend be lifted into the hospital bed.
A doctor began walking towards him, and he realised he would be asked to leave, after all he wasn't family.
He turned towards Robby and began to walk, realising he had already regained consciousness.
"Hey, how are you doing?"
"Not… well." Robby struggled to speak, gasping for air in-between words.
The scene in front of him brought Miguel to the verge of tears as he began to feel like his boyfriend wouldn't make it through this.
He hugged Robby tightly, probably almost suffocating him, and gave him a kiss.
"I love you, Robby"
"I.. love you… too." Robby forced out, it looked painful for him, Miguel couldn't stand it.
"Hello, excuse me?"
Miguel turned around towards the voice, it was the doctor.
"Uh. Yeah. I'm leaving now."
"Actually I think it's best if you stay."
Miguel paused, confused for a moment, "What?"
"Could you come outside for a moment?"
Miguel nodded and stepped outside, mentally registering the doctors strange expression.
"I'm afraid he might not make it…"
What?
No.
Not Robby.
Robby wasn't going to die.
He couldn't accept it. He couldn't accept that his boyfriend was going to die. It couldn't be happening. It couldn't be real. The thoughts raced through his mind as he stood in front of the doctor. His heart raced, and he felt sick to his stomach just thinking about the possibility of losing him.
"I'll do anything. I'll give him all the money I have. I'll sell everything I own. I'll take out a second mortgage on my house. I'll do anything. Just please don't take him from me." He begged the universe, as if some higher power could hear him and grant his wish.
But in the back of his mind, he knew. Miguel knew that no amount of money or prayers could save Robby. He knew that death was inevitable. But he just couldn't bring himself to accept it.
Miguel tried to picture a world without Robby, to imagine life without his laugh, his smile, his touch. But it was impossible. The thought of never seeing him again was more than he could bear.
This couldn't be happening. He couldn't die. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.
However many times he tried to tell himself that, he never believed it.
Miguel knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. But the thought of losing him hurt more than he could ever express in words.
He turned around, ignoring whatever the doctor was saying, went back into the room with Robby, sat down and cried.
The tears rolled down his cheeks as he watched his boyfriend's breathing get lighter and lighter.
He watched as Robby slowly died, unable to help him. He felt like he did when he first moved here. Useless and unworthy.
It wasn't fair on Robby.
He placed a kiss on Robby’s cheek and began to leave, he needed food.
The high pitched ring of the monitor snapped home out of his daze. Before he had even turned, he knew that Robby was gone.
He kept walking, he couldn't look at him, couldn't face the fact he had watched his boyfriend die.
He walked through the lobby and out of the hospital, heading in no particular direction, his thoughts fragmented and incoherent. Robby was gone.
Miguel fell to his knees in the middle of the street and began to sob violently, shaking with a volatile mixture of anger and sorrow.
Sudden, unexpected, cruel.
Up until that point, Miguel had thought they were just words.
Now it was his description of death.