Organ Donor

The door swung open, and in the brief time before it clicked shut again, I could hear the hectic bustle of the hospital in the halls. Crying babies, phones ringing, lots of shuffling feet. But when the hallway vanished behind the door, it was gone from my mind. It was just me and Kenny here now. I dropped my head back in my pillow, tired.

I knew I was heavily medicated, but I felt better today. more lucid than usual. Not better as in not dying, but better mentally. Kenny didn't say anything as he dragged a green chair from the corner over beside the bed, the legs squeaking across the floor.

He sat down with a plop, backwards, and sighed, "I know what you're going to ask."

I swallowed, and shrugged, looking at the window. The snow was still falling, but more gently than yesterday. It was a delicate, quiet trickle of ice floating down against the wind. It was almost a reassuring sight.

"I bet you do," I sighed finally, "But I'll ask, anyway. What's dying like?"

I looked back at him, but this time he was the one looking at the window. I knew he hated to talk about it. I think he preferred to pretend it wasn't real.

"It hurts," he said, quietly, eyes glued to the window pane, but obviously looking past the frosted glass and chipped paint to something, somewhere else. "It almost never doesn't hurt. It hurts really bad."

I shuddered at the thought. "Is it going to be that bad for me?"

His eyes snapped back to me, "You're not going to die."

I licked my lips, chuckling nervously, "Yeah, right. Look, man… It's okay. You don't have to try and reassure me. I just wanna be real with you right now. I… Cartman was the only other person who matched my blood type, and he… I already have his kidney. What are the odds I can find ANOTHER donor in time? I barely made it the first time." My voice broke, and I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath to steady myself. "I… I understand the position I'm in. And I don't want to pretend everything will be okay. I just want to… know what's going to happen."

He shook his head again, and his eyes glimmered darkly, "You're not going to die. I promise."

I eyed him cautiously, wanting to believe him, but not daring to.

"How can you know that?" I asked warily after a moment of silence.

"I'm…" he paused, and bit his lip, then looked back up at me, "Just trust me. Everything will be fine."

I let out a breath. Kenny was an odd one. He hung around the backs of crowds, spoke little, and rarely made any attempt to distinguish himself at all. He was on no one's bad side. As far as I knew, he wasn't very close emotionally to anyone, but at the same time everyone seemed to like him well enough. Kenny was just a quiet, generally pleasant if occasionally lewd person. Lying was quite out of character for him.

If anyone knew anything about dying, it was Kenny. Maybe I wasn't as sick as I felt?

"If… if you say so, man." I said, almost a whisper, almost only to myself. He nodded, and smiled.

"I do. Trust me. Today is gonna suck, but you're still going to make it to tomorrow." He stood up, and pulled the pillow propping up my feet out from under my ankles. I winced, and she motioned for me to lean up. I needed a little help leaning over because my muscles weren't quite listening to me, but he got the pillow under my lower back and I settled back down. It burned like fire.

"Sorry, I know that stings," he said, shrugging, "but once everything settles it's a lot more comfortable. Kidneys are really touchy. Are you pissing blood yet?" He asked it quite suddenly and I blinked at the change in tone.

"Uh, well- shit, yeah, yeah I am."

He swore. "I gotta go then. Take a nap and try to sleep through the worst of it. I'll catch you in," he paused, his eyes squinting and his eyebrows furrowing together in thought, "a few days, probably. Not sure. We'll see. Keep your chin up. Or down. You know, roll with it." Before I could respond, he had ducked out of the room.

I shifted uncomfortably on the pillow, breathing heavily as the pain surged through me even through the morphine. After a moment, it dulled, and I could feel my blood under my skin- it's hard to describe, but the way it felt was almost quieter. It was just comfortable enough that I managed to slip thankfully out of consciousness.

000

When I woke up, my mother was smiling. I stammered some nondescript, confused vowels at her.

"Oh, bubalah!" She cried, wrapping her arms around my neck. I whined in pain and she pulled away again, but her hands didn't leave my shoulders. I wished she would let go, "It's wonderful! They found a donor!"

I blinked in surprise, "They wha-?"

"He just showed up, sweetie! Oh, thank Moses, he saw me and your father's ad online and was moved by your story. He wants to donate a kidney! He has the right blood type!"

She hugged me again, and even though it hurt, I was too surprised to react. A donor out of nowhere? That wasn't suspicious or strange at all. Especially after Kenny's quiet certainty that I would live.

Behind her, against the wall were two men. One was a young man, about my age, with blond hair slicked back against his head in a neat , almost greaser do. He was standing very straight, but I could see in his eyes he knew me. Really knew me, not just from an ad. The man beside him was a bit older, and was jittering. He kept looking around, and wouldn't meet my eye. He hardly looked like a moved stranger.

The blond man smiled at me when my mother pulled away.

"Hello, Kyle. I don't suppose you remember me? We once went to school together, you know." His accent sounded vaguely english, but a sort of generic english- like a fake accent. I just shook my head, swallowing.

"My name is Gregory. Your parents sent out a mass email; my parents forwarded it too me, and as surprising as it is, it appears I have a dear friend who's a viable match and wants to help. We're so glad to be here, Kyle." He smiled, wide and fake. I didn't like him, but I wanted the kidney.

"Yeah… okay." I said, and looked at the man, shaking in his chair, who nodded at me, then turned back to the window.

Suspicious.

000

I teased the bowl of dry, tasteless, kosher hospital food with my spoon, uninterested. Hospital food was bad enough, kosher hospital food for a diabetic was worse. I wished it was a saturday, so I could call Stan and beg him to bring me something edible. He'd probably initially protest, chastise me on my diet and tell me I'd put myself back int the hospital, but then he would, inevitably, relent, and I'd be riding the high waves of french fries and milkshakes and burgers with bacon on them.

The door creaked open, and Kenny's face peeked in. Seeing I was awake, he swung it open all the way with a smile, and strode toward me. Just behind him in the doorway, was a boy it only took be a moment to recognize- Christophe. He was as old as we were though, now, his face still dirty and tired, his hair still an unkempt brown mess. I'd held him in my arms as he died- my immediate reactionw as relief, knowing he'd been brought back with the rest of the Canadian-American wars' casualties, then distrust, not knowing why he would be here. Visiting me?

Not likely; as he stayed by the door, eying me warily while Kenny grabbed the chair beside the wall and swiveled it around so he could sit in it backwards.

"Kyle!" He said, face breaking open in a smile, "You're okay!"

"Yeah well," I said, pushing my tasteless food onto the table, "You did say I would be."

He shrugged with a laugh, and picked up the bowl, "The hell is this?" He said, wrinkling his nose.

"Diabetic kosher hospital slop."

He spooned out a bit and put it in his mouth, then cringed dramatically, "Oh y-gnaiih, what the fuck is this?"

I laughed, and grabbed it back from him, "It's my lunch."

He kicked his feet up against the metal bracing under the bed, "It's gross, that's what it is. You need bacon."

I snorted, "That was exactly what I was thinking. Maybe you are psychic, after all."

"Nah," He laughed, "I wish. I just know you too well."

"You do," I smiled, then frowned, "You actually do though. How did you know I was going to make it?"

He shrugged with a nervous chuckle, "Heh, well, yeah. You know. I know these things."

I licked my lips, "Right. Did you?"

He blinked in surprise, "Huh?"

"Did you know, or did you do something?"

His eyes left mine, "Well, uh, I. You know."

"No, dude, I don't know. What did you do?"

Kenny looked uncomfortable and nervous, and just as he opened his mouth to respond, Christophe cleared his throat from the doorway.

"Ahem. Kenny. We're running low on time."

Kenny looked back at him, eyes lingering, before he let out a breath, "Yeah. Give me a minute, man, then we can go."

Christophe nodded, and shut the door. Kenny turned back to me.

"Okay. Look. You know... you know I'm sort of a bottom feeder, man. You know where I come from," his eyes looked sincere, "I have my connections. It's nothing you need to worry about. I'm just glad you're okay."

My stomach twisted itself in knots, and I wanted to press him further, but I let it go.

"Okay... Okay."

He smiled again, "Good. Alright, man, I gotta head out. I got some stuff to take care of. I'll probably be back in a couple of days- you think you'll be out of here soon?"

I nodded, "Yeah, they only want to keep me a little longer, then it's bedrest and laziness for a long while."

"Awesome. I heard your mom got you that new Call of Duty game when they put you in here, and I haven't had a chance to play it," He stood up, and raised his fist. I tapped it with my knuckles, and he said, "and you owe me! I'll drop by when I get back, alright?"

"Sure, dude, can't wait."

And with that, the door opened, and I could see Christophe's eyes lingering on me with distaste before the door shut, leaving me alone with my suspicions.

AN/ Thank you for reading! Erosion is still being updated of course, so no worries there. I'm sure you know this already, but reviews stroke my fragile ego and make me more enthusiastic to pump out new chapters! Fave/review my stuff and I'll be more likely to update faster. It's a win win situation here people. ;)