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Jared laughed as he lounged against the bar, a glass of 7-Up in his hand. He held up a finger when he felt his phone vibrate and skittered away to a quiet hallway, “Hello?”
“Is this Mister Jared Leto?”
“Uh, yeah. May I ask who is calling?”
“Hello, I’m Doctor Lamen at the St. Vincent Hospital in Los Angeles,” greeted the woman, “You have a brother by the name of Shannon, correct Mr. Leto?”
“Uh, yeah. Is everything okay?”
“Your brother was in a motorcycle accident this evening and sustained numerous injuries.”
Jared’s eyes widened and leaned against the wall, “Is…Is he okay?”
“He’s currently in surgery Mr. Leto.”
“Oh God,” Jared ran a hand through his hair, “Is he going to live?”
“I think we should talk about that in person,”
Jared gulped, “Uh, yeah. I’m in, uh, New York but I can catch a flight and be there in a few hours.”
“That would be acceptable Mr. Leto, I will see you then.”
Jared closed his phone and let out a shuttering breath, “Oh God, Shan.” Scrambling away from the wall, Jared rushed to his hotel room and jumped on the first plane back to L.A.
(*)
Jared eased the swing door open, his breathing rapid. He gulped when he saw his brother’s short body prone on a hospital bed. He carefully treaded closer to his brother, gulping when he saw the thick cast on both of his legs and right arm, bandages covering his torso and numerous butterfly band-aids on the dummer’s face. But, the high-pitch, rhythmic noise in the background gave Jared comfort. He was still alive.
“And you wonder why I tell you to wear a helmet,” Jared sniffled, taking his brother’s hand gently.
“I thought you were supposed to be in New York,”
Jared jerked, his watering blue eyes snapping to his brother’s smirking, bruised face, “S-Shannon?”
“That is my name right? Or did the bonk on the head mess that up too?”
Jared raised an eyebrow, “If you weren’t already in casts, I would smack you.”
Shannon chuckled before wincing, “Jesus, I must be old.”
“Shan, I’m pretty sure that asphalt doesn’t discriminate against age,” muttered Jared, “What happened?”
“Stop sign, drunk driver, said driver missed stop sign but didn’t miss my tiny bike.” Shannon answered.
Jared sighed, “6 to 8 weeks?”
Shannon yawned and nodded, “And drugs.”
“Which is already making you loopy,” snorted Jared, “I’ll move your bed downstairs tomorrow before you come home.”
“Jay, you don’t have to do that.”
“And you’ll be wheelchair bound, so I’ll need to build a makeshift ramp,” Jared rambled on.
Shannon rolled his eyes, “Jay.”
Jared took a deep breath, “What time are you being released tomorrow?”
“I don’t know,” Shannon answered, “I was busy being made part metal.”
“Sorry,” Jared whispered, “You’re right.”
“Go home Jay, you’re probably tired and I’m about to be knocked out by this medicine.” Shannon mumbled, already half-asleep, “I’ll still be laying here for you to wheel me home tomorrow.”
“But-“
“Go. Before I make the nurse escort you out,” Shannon ordered through a yawn, “Good night Jared.”
Jared sighed, relenting. Gnawing on his bottom lip, Jared quickly pecked his brother’s forehead, “Night Shan.”