Your name is Dave Strider, and you have just returned home from a walk meant to clear your head. Just before you left, you had gotten into a big argument with your friend/roommate Karkat about your relationship with your boyfriend John. Unfortunately, you found this not nearly as relaxing as expected, so you do what any normal twenty-something would do, and pour yourself a tall glass of Apple Juice and sit down to watch Sponge Bob on the couch. But you notice there is something wrong. It's unusually quiet in your shitty 3 bedroom apartment today. You call out "John?" no answer. "Karkat?" no reply. The silence is literally driving you mad. You get up to investigate, pulling yourself off the couch. You walk towards the bedroom that you and John share, to find it empty. You creep down the hallway past Karkat's room, to find the door closed. You press your ear to the door to hear muffled music playing from his laptop. You shrug and keep walking down the hall. You walk past the bathroom and you hear a thud. Something has hit the floor. Not just something. SomeONE.
That someone, you strongly believe is John. You knock on the door violently "John?" "John, are you okay?!" "Answer me!" Nothing. You try and open the door to find that it's locked. You pound furiously on the door "OPEN THE GODAMNED DOOR EGBERT!" Your years of training with bro have prepared you for this. You stand back about a foot and kick the door with your entire weight pushing into the painted wood. It crashes against the wall of the bathroom. The lights aren't on. But you smell it. Heavy and metallic. You flick on the light and your suspicion is confirmed. There is blood forming a puddle under your boyfriend. He is slumped against the wall. The left corner of his shirt is slowly turning red. You can't identify where he's bleeding. You fall to your knees, next to him, shaking his limp body.
He is unconscious.
You grab his hand, and turn it over to check for a pulse. Now you see why he's bleeding. Trailing up from below his thumb to the inside of his elbow are about 6 vertical slices into the pale flesh of his forearm. You heart has officially fallen from your chest to your stomach as you realize what he had just tried to do. He had attempted to take his own life. You panic, and check for a pulse, and find there isn't one. You pull the fading boy into your arms. You hear someone screaming, and waling. Oh wait. That's you. You hear pounding of someone running. You assume it's Karkat because it stops and behind the blood pumping in your brain, you hear him scream. Less than 2 minutes later, you hear the sound of sirens, and you start to feel like an idiot because it hadn't even occurred to you to call an ambulance. Three men in clean white jumpsuits push past you and scoop John out of your arms, and onto the gurney waiting outside the door of the bathroom.
They are trying to run to save him, but you run faster and catch John's good hand and hold on. They tell you that you need to let go but you refuse. You need to be with him. They tie a rubber tourniquet around John's bicep to keep him from bleeding any more than he already has. He is attached to a heart monitor and given vigorous CPR. He's not breathing. He barely has a pulse. The ambulance is flying down the road and the only thing to accompany your panic is the EMT screaming "We're losing him! We're losing him!" You feel like the world has nearly slowed to a stop. Maybe because the beeps on the heart monitor attached to your dying boyfriend have become few and far between. You lean down and rest your forehead on John's shoulder, and take his hand into both of yours. It is limp and cold and you are terrified. You take off your shades and tuck them into the collar of your shirt, which is now stained with a combination of gross tears, and your boyfriend's blood. After what seems like an eternity, you are led to the waiting room of the Intensive Care Unit. Once arriving at the hospital, they had three men drag you away from the gurney. You fought for all you were worth. If he was going to die, he sure as hell wasn't going to do it alone. You started out sitting, but the anxiety that has been caused by this whole fiasco, so you eventually stand up and now you are pacing violently.
You hear the screams of a family in despair as they lost they receive the news that their young son had just passed away. You are now completely alone in the stark white, sterile, disgustingly quiet hospital waiting room. Through the small window on the door that currently separates you and the hospital room they've hauled John off to, you see a doctor walking your way looking solemn… Your heart has risen up from the place it'd been resting in your stomach, to lodging in your throat. The doctor was not very tall, kinda stocky, and was balding. He had thin, wire framed glasses and a nervous look in his eyes. He opens the door and approaches you. He takes off his glasses and holds on to them and looks at you with a sad expression.
Tears are threatening to fall as he says what you have been swearing to god you wouldn't hear.
"He's stable, but he lost a lot of blood. You can go see him, but remember, this might be goodbye." You push past the doctor before he is even done speaking. You sprint to the full extent of your physical ability to your lover's side. He is asleep, and still so pale… He looks like he's dead, with the pale face and the lips tinted ever so slightly with blue. But the slight rising and falling of his chest through shallow breaths confirm his mortality.
The beeping on the heart monitor is comforting as you carefully and quietly sit in the chair next to John. You see his entire left arm is covered in white gauze with thin red lines of blood soaking through them. You take his right hand in yours and kiss the knuckle. It's still limp, and cold and lifeless. "Damnit John… What were you thinking?" You blink, trying to get the teary blur to leave your eyes. "What would have happened if I hadn't found you? If I had showed up any later?" you use your other hand to stroke the black tresses off of John's forehead. "What if Karkat had found you dead, and didn't know what to do?" You are crying now. The tears refuse to stop falling. "Because…" you pause to swallow your tears "because what if I'm in love with you Egbert?" You're body is wracked with violent sobs. You're still gripping John's hand, but now instead of looking at the pale, dying face of John Egbert, you are resting your elbow on the edge of his bed with your face in your had, weeping like a goddamned infant.
"Damnit John, I am in love with you. I need you to be okay, because seriously, I don't think I'm going to be able to live with losing you". A solid 15 minutes pass before you have regained your composure and can sit up again. You have gotten about 35 texts and calls from Karkat, Jade and Rose. You decide to step out and call them back. John seemed stable enough, so you decide it's safe. All of the messages say basically the same thing "Trying to get in to see him. ICU is really tight." "Is John okay? Wat happened?" "Call me when you get this!" etc. etc. You really aren't in the mood to talk to Karkat, even though you owe it to him.
You should really call Rose or Jade, but you just can't. Right now, you need to be alone with the love of your life. You check the time and see that almost three hours have gone by since you got here. You saunter quietly back into John's room and sit next to him again. You grip his hand again and just watch him sleep. It's slightly unnerving to see how many bags of donated blood he's gone through to replenish how much he's lost. You count 2 empty bags on the nursing table, and another three attached to the IV tubes.
A nurse comes in and hooks up an oxygen tank to him so he is taking better breaths than he is because he's asleep so that the blood pumps faster. She gives you a sympathetic nod and tells you that he should be awake soon. Another 2 hours pass and there is no change… You are really tired and not feeling well, and there's still blood staining your shirt and pants from holding onto your John. You lean in and kiss john on the forehead. You've been holding his cold hand for almost 4 hours and not once has there been any sign of life. When press your lips to his head, you swear you feel a very faint squeeze from the hand you've been holding.
"John?" you whisper, "John, are you awake? John?" A very faint groan escaped his lips. Elated, you run to the door and yell for a doctor. "Someone! Anyone! Come on!" and with that, more than 5 doctors, nurses and other hospital personnel come running in your direction. You turn back and see that John is weakly struggling to open his eyes. "D-dave?" his voice is raspy and nearly silent. You run to his side and take is face carefully in your hands and tell him "I'm right here, John. I've been right here." He smiles weakly and a scowl comes over his face "Dave… I am going to die." He says. You feel anger boiling in your stomach "Don't you dare."
The doctors have pushed you aside and are now just confirming your sanity and making sure he's really awake, and testing his vitals and all that stupid shit. You just want to fucking be with him, but you can't. And then… The entire room stops breathing, and the heart monitor stops beeping.