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Chris stood in the corridors of the hospital, anxiously waiting for the doctors to return with more information. He tapped his foot against the tiled floor, trying to channel his fear into a physical action which didn’t involve screaming and crying. The cold lights beamed down over his face, not once dimming despite the hour, and irritated his eyes with their uncanny brightness. Faint beeping sounds echoed down the hall in off-putting monotone tunes. The air was unnaturally chilly and sent shivers prickling his skin, with the reek of sanitary alcohol burning his nose. Nurses silently walked through the unnervingly blank halls, never making eye contact or speaking. Overall, the environment gave an uncomfortably alien presence, and certainly weren’t helping to ease the sickening anxiety riddling through him.
As much he wanted it to stop, the memories of what had just occurred ran through Chris’ mind like a broken record once again.
The text message.
Speeding to Joey’s house.
His body on the bathroom floor.
The bottle of pills.
The ambulance.
Cradling his body.
Begging him to live.
The recollection sent a new spike of consternation coiling through his chest, and his stomach twisted around to the point he thought he might throw up. Leaning further against the blank hallway wall, Chris sighed heavily. He didn’t know how much longer he could wait for the doctors to return. He didn’t know how much injury Joey had sustained. He didn’t know if he was being cared for enough. He didn’t know if he was even alive. The last realization sent another pang of fear ripping through him. Joey could be dead for all he knew. And he wouldn’t even be there to comfort him in the last few moments.
Chris stomped his foot firmly against the tiled hospital floor. He felt a desperate anger rising out of the fear, but he knew it wouldn’t do anything. Sighing, he rubbed his tired eyes, irritated from the obnoxiously bright hospital lights. Checking his watch, he saw that it was four in the morning; over three hours since they had arrived. Immediately, Joey had been taken through the emergency room and to somewhere further within the labyrinthine tunnel of the institution. Chris had been escorted to a hallway and requested to wait until a doctor informed him on what happened. He had been waiting in dreadful fear since then.
“Chris?”
He jolted slightly with shock and eagerly turned to who had spoken. A doctor was approaching him from down the hall. Chris felt his skin prick with anticipation as the doctor finally stepped close enough to him. He wasn’t sure if he was grateful or horrified for the answer.
“Is he okay?” His voice shook as he spoke, but tried to hide it.
The doctor met his gaze, expression giving away nothing.
“Yes, he’s stable. But there’ll be a long recovery. Would you like to see him?”
Before the doctor could even finish the question, Chris had started down the direction the doctor had come from. The professional quickly took the lead, guiding him through a twisting maze of hallways and wards which all looked identical to him. Finally, they stopped in front of a small room. The doctor opened the door and let Chris inside, lingering by the entrance.
Within, the room was dark and gloomy, and a melancholic air tainted the vicinity. Laying in one of the hospital beds was a small, exhausted figure. He opened his eyes slightly at noticing someone enter.
Chris felt his heart drop at the sight of Joey. He was glad that he was okay, but seeing him like this - after what had just happened - felt like a set of invisible weights had been dropped on his soul. He looked so fragile and weak, so defeated and hopeless… Tears toyed at the edges of Chris’ eyes, but he forced them back. He had to be strong right now, no matter how heavy the pain felt.
As Joey’s gaze met his own, a fresh stake of grief impaled his heart. His eyes were so sorrowful and broken that it almost resonated off him in a palpable presence, infecting Chris’ own emotions. A new wave of despondence washed over him as him and Joey simply watched each other across the room, neither moving or speaking. They both knew what the other was feeling.
Eventually, when the silence felt too pressing, Chris gingerly stepped closer to the bed.
“Hey, man…” He started quietly.
There was too much to say, but not enough words to describe it.
Joey watched him in silence for a little longer before breaking away.
“I’m sorry…” He murmured quietly.
Chris stepped to the side of the bed and gently placed his hand on Joey’s shoulder, his fear hardening defensively. “Don’t be sorry. Don’t you ever be sorry. It’s not your fault, and it never will be your fault.” His voice broke as raw emotion filled his throat.
Joey still didn’t meet his gaze, looking out absently at the blank walls. When he didn’t respond, Chris continued.
“I love you. You know that, right?”
That made him redirect his sight back to Chris. In the dim light, he could see tears starting to wet his eyes emotively.
“I know, I just… I don’t know…”
Chris rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. “It’s okay. Just know that I love you,” After a moment he added. “You can talk to me anytime you need, you know. Or if you just want someone to be with, so you’re not alone. I’m always here to help you.”
Joey sighed and slouched further back into the bed. He was clearly exhausted, and he had every right to be.
“You should get some rest,” He suggested, pulling his hand away. “You’ll feel better after some sleep.”
“But will I?”
Chris didn’t answer. He couldn’t promise that he would feel any better or worse when he woke up, and he didn’t want to promise him lies.
“Just get some sleep. Please.” Chris stepped back from the bed. He didn’t want to leave him, but Joey needed to rest more than anything. Painfully, he turned to the door.
“Wait.”
Chris spun back around. Joey was watching him desperately from his bed.
“Can you stay?”
A slice of grief cut across his heart at the distress in Joey’s voice. Immediately, he walked back across to the bed and pulled a chair over beside it. It felt better to stay than to leave, after what they had both been through.
He grabbed hold of Joey’s hand and clasped it fondly.
“Of course.”