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Survival and being alive are two very different things. That in and of itself was complicated. But being alive after wishing for death, that was worse. Especially when your body was incredibly fucked up after.
Those exact thoughts were running through Hank Olsen's head as he gripped his abdomen. He was having another bad episode, and he felt like hell had been brought down upon him.
It was the middle of the night, and he was having the worst pain in his life. Every part of his abdomen was having extreme cramps, and the slightest bit of movement made it worse.
Looking around, he noticed someone looking at him. Baker.
"Olson, are you ok? You look like you're giving birth." Art let out a chuckle, which quickly ended as he realized the severity of the situation.
"Shit I'm sorry," in a flash, Olson felt the taller man by his side. He grabbed his arm, feeling pain shoot up his entire body. He wasn't able to contain the string of curses that followed, but he managed to not wake anyone else up.
"Olson, where's your pain med's?" He pointing at a night stand, an orange bottle laying on it. Art quickly grabbed two, handing them to Olson along with a glass of water nearby.
Hank hastily took it, downing both in a swift motion. "Fuck, the pain's still there." He clawed at his abdomen with quick movements. "Talk to me Art. It'll distract me from the pain."
The taller boy nervously stood there, thinking of something to say. Before the walk, Baker had stories he'd tell that had been passed down. They always made the crowd laugh. But now, he couldn't remember any. He was at a loss.
"Shit, sorry. Memory. Just, tell me about your day."
"....Olsen that's even worse."
A rustle was heard next to them, and under the moonlight Collie Parker's shiny black hair was illuminated. It was messy but straight, framing his face beautifully.
"If I tell a story, will you shut the fuck up?"
The two nodded, Art sitting down at the foot of Olsen's bed while the latter rubbed his abdomen.
"Once upon a time, there were two gay fuckers. One was named....Bay. The other was named Meter. Anyway one day the two gay shits decided that they loved each other. So they fucked. The end."
Before Parker was able to even enjoy the reaction of his story, two pillows were thrown directly at his head. It sent his head flying back down, a loud thump being heard throughout the room.
"Collie, at least me and McVries don't try to fuck when the others are at examinations." Garratty pointed an accusatory finger at Parker and Barkovitch.
"Me and Barkovitch are purely platonic fucker."
"That's not what you said last night."
"Garrison Micheal Barkovitch, shut the fuck up!"
The two bickered a bit, going back and forth. It sounded like an old married couple.
"While the couple fights, how about me and Garatty tell a story." McVries had seemingly woken up, which was a bit surprising to all the other parties involved. Then again, it was heard to sleep when people were screaming in your ear.
"I'll start," Garatty propped himself up, and began telling his tale. "In the land of Equestria, there was a pony named.....Brownie."
"Brownie? Really Ray? A color?"
"How about you give a name then?"
"Peppermint milk, Dinosaur ass, something! At least make it creative."
"Fine. Peppermint milk lived in the woods, eating berries."
"Horse eat grass."
"Fine. Peppermint milk lived in the woods, eating grass. One day, she discovered a book, buried in the soil. And when she opened it-"
"Horse don't have fingers. How the fuck is she opening the book?"
Ray practically leaped off his bed, jumping on top of McVries and practically strangling him. (Not really, Ray could never hurt his boyfriend.)
Barkovitch and Collie stopped arguing, watching in amusement as the two men wrestled it out on top of a hospital bed. Neither looked particularly angry, more just annoyed with each other. Garatty was wining, having pinned down Peter.
"You two," a light was flicked on, "need to calm down."
The cause of the event was none other than Richard Harkness. He was missing his glasses, and his freckles were a golden brown in the hospital light. His prosthetic foot was currently facing the wrong way, and he seemed to be irritated. But then again, who wouldn't be?
"Olsen, Art, since these 4 are incompetent idiots I'll tell a story. On December 7th, 1941 there was an attack made on the United States. Under the rule of the Nazi's, Japan bombed a military base. It was called Pearl Harbor."
"Richard, telling them the events of World War II doesn't count as a story." Stebbin's slowly lifted himself up, his voice groggy compared to his current vocabulary.
Harkness let out a pout, aggressively scribbling notes into his book while giving Stebbins occasional glares. It was childish, but at the same time Richard did act like a child a lot. It was more expected of him at the very least.
Olsen had been cracking up the entire time, holding onto Art's arm as if it was a binding force. "Holy shit, this is better than any of the stories you could have told." Suddenly, the pain came back, more intense than before. Olsen grabbed his abdomen, letting out a cry of pain.
Baker grabbed him by the shoulder, leaning the smaller boy into his side and rubbing his arm. "Deep breaths Olsen. It'll pass."
"Fuck! I wish that fucking gun killed me!"
The silence that enveloped the room was louder than any noise that could have been made. Everyone was looking at Olsen, with looks ranging from shock to anger.
"Olsen, don't say that. Don't ever fucking say that." Collie's voice sounded bitter and angry, each word carrying a bite to it. Parker got angry a lot, but it never sounded like this. It was never this intense.
"Collie's right. You saw how many people died. They weren't ready."
Garratty's voice cut through the tension like glass. His eyes were cold and unforgiving.
"Olsen, do you seriously wish you were dead?"
Richard seemed puzzled at the thought. In a world where he himself has seen people die, never did Harkness think he'd hear Hank wished for death.
"Yes! I do! My body is fucked up, and I'm never gonna live a good life! I'm in pain, and maybe if I was dead it wouldn't be like this! Maybe I would be happy!"
Big fight crocodile tears rolled down his face, and his voice cracked as sobs snuck through. Art grabbed his shoulder, giving it a squeeze and pulling him into his side.
"How do you think we feel? Hell, we all wanted to die. But we aren't. So let's make the best of it." The usually quiet Stebbins spoke up, his voice warm in the cold room.
And maybe he was right. Hank was dead. He was alive. He was lucky. So maybe, it was time to take ahold of life. He had his friends, and his lover. That was enough.
No words needed to be said after that. Everyone turned off the lights, laying back down. Barkovitch and Collie laid separately, holding hands between the gap of their beds. Ray and McVries were cuddling, both letting out small remarks every so often. And Richard and Stebbins were asleep on Stebbins bed, the blonde practically holding the smaller one.
Meanwhile, Hank laid down onto Art's chest. The two enveloped their limbs, the warmth of the room providing comfort in the coldness. He was glad to be alive.