Okay, I know, I know: Another story. But this is the sequel to AFM, which people have been waiting for, so... Also, you should read Another Fine Mess to understand this story better. Oh, and, this story was mostly inspired by Paper Wing by Rise Against, but only the lyrics below... It's kinda confusing, and the story doesn't go in order of the lyrics, which aren't really even that important, but meh... So, hopefully you enjoy this XD
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Paper Wings by Rise Against
One last thing I beg you please
Just before you go
I've watched you fly on paper wings
Halfway around the world
Until they burned up in the atmosphere
Sent you spiraling down
We'll meet somewhere far from here
With no one else around
To catch you falling down
And I'm looking at you now
And I can't tell if you're laughing
Between each smile there's a tear in your eye
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"Damn it Tom, would you slow down already?" Doug called out, partly irritated and partly angered at his friend's actions. The entire drive to the hospital had been in silence, with Tom ignoring Doug whenever he had been spoken to. Doug had soon given up on talking to the younger man, although he would have been pretty good if Tom had just yelled at him to shut up already. At least then he knew that Tom still had the ability to speak. Or that he at least wanted to talk, anyways. Then again, Doug was never good when things became silent; he wasn't used to dealing silence. Once they had gotten to the hospital, Tom was no better off: He had unbuckled his seatbelt - Doug was actually pretty surprised to see that he had pulled his on – before Doug had found a parking spot, and had then bolted from the vehicle before the engine had finished its sputtering and the ignition had been cut dead completely. Doug had called after him, yet again annoyed, although more worried than angered now, and had hurried to escape the confines of the vehicle himself, sprinting after Tom like a marathon runner.
Doug had only been running for a few seconds when he was stopped by a sudden outburst of anger represented in the form of a blaring horn. He had only a second before he realized that the car would hit him if he didn't move, and quickly jumped out of the way. The horn blaring had just been a warning at him to move, and luckily he had, because the car had continued going without stopping. If Doug hadn't of moved, he would have been hit. He could have taken down the license plate number, but instead ignored his inner 'cop instincts' and turned his attention on finding Tom. The idiot driver could deal with his problem later when he actually hit somebody not as lucky as Doug had been. The officer just hoped that that somebody wouldn't be his just as idiotic friend wandering around the parking lot. Intent on not having that happen, he began to look around the parking lot and easily spotted the younger man heading towards the hospital. And, luckily for Doug, Tom had decided to head towards the entrance at a steady pace, and he didn't have to jog far before he had caught up with him. It was then that Tom finally decided to say something.
"I'm scared," Tom told Doug in a shaky voice and slowing his pace. He came to a complete stop and turned to look at the other man. "I mean, I'm afraid of what the doctors might find out, ya know?"
Doug had looked at Tom strangely, first surprised that he had spoken, then surprised at the choice of words he had chosen to let escape his mouth. He nodded slowly, though, understanding completely. "Yeah, of course, but you haven't passed out or anything, so it can't be that bad, right?"
Tom smiled slightly, wanting to agree with the older man. He hadn't passed out, at least that part was right, but he had felt light-headed earlier, and dizzy enough that he had thought he would. He didn't, though, and had decided not to say anything. He was too scared to say anything about how he was feeling, because he had a bad feeling in his gut as to why he felt so crappy. So he decided not to say anything about it. What hurt could a few more lies cause, anyways?
"Right," Tom agreed. "I actually do feel a bit better. Well, besides where it hurts like a bitch 'cause I'm bruised to hell and back."
Doug laughed, clapping Tom on the shoulder. "Yeah, you'll be fine in a few days, I bet. But you're still going to get checked out, so c'mon, or else I'll carry you in there."
Tom groaned slightly, then continued onwards, knowing full-well that if he didn't, Doug would do exactly what he said he would. And Tom didn't want to enter the hospital being treated like a child. He was twenty-four, after-all. Actually, he thought with an inner smile, I'm almost twenty-five.
"What?" Doug asked suddenly, and Tom glanced up at him with a confused look in his eye. "What do you mean what? I didn't say anything."
"You were smiling," Doug replied. "Just wondering why, because I don't think it's because you're happy about going to the hospital."
"Oh," Tom mumbled. He hadn't realized he had been smiling; Doug had, though. "Nothing, just thinking about something." Tom paused for a second, and then he spoke again, "And no, I don't wanna talk about it. Because it wasn't a bad thought, Doug. I mean, I smiled, didn't I?"
Tom continued walking towards the entrance, feet still clad in a dead man's boots hitting the pavement lightly as he went, creating a hollow tap-tap sound. Doug stared after him, wondering how Tom was always able to do that, because he didn't think he was that easy to read.
"You coming?" Tom asked, turning slightly to look at Doug, who now stood a few feet behind the younger man. "'Cause I'm not goin' in without you."
"Yeah, didn't think you would," Doug mumbled before walking after Tom, who didn't move another step until the other man was standing beside him. They were only a few steps from the door now, and Doug could see a few nurses and doctors hurrying around inside, pushing stretchers and wheelchairs, or talking to the patients sitting in the chairs lined against the wall near the door. He smiled slightly at how white it was in there, with the uniforms of both the doctors and nurses standing out in contrast against the duller shade of white that coated the walls, and the purples and blues of the furniture.
"Would you stop gawking at whatever you're gawking at," Tom spoke up harshly, breaking Doug out of his thoughts, "So that we can just go in and get this finished with? Or else I'm leaving."
"Uh-uh, Tommy, you can't leave," Doug replied, pulling his gaze away from an older man who was being pushed down the hallway in a wheelchair, his left leg encased in a light blue cast like a caterpillar in its cocoon before emerging as a butterfly.
"I don't have to," Tom replied suddenly with seriousness in his voice. "I mean, you can't make me go in there." Tom pointed towards the entrance, then stepped aside as the same older man Doug had seen previously was pushed through the entrance slowly by a younger man who was probably his son. He smiled gently at Tom, the corners of his mouth creasing as he did so, and Tom smiled back. No need to be rude to your elders, especially when they have no idea why you're in such a bad mood.
"Could you believe I got this in a motorcycle accident?" he asked Tom in a low, slightly aged voice and pointing at his leg. Then he began to laugh, with lungs that seemed to have lasted longer than his age.
"Really?" Tom replied, smiling again. Doug laughed, and then the younger man pushing the wheel chair did so as well. The only one who didn't laugh was Tom, and Doug could see that he wasn't really even smiling. Well, he was. Except the smile seemed fake. At least to Doug it did, because he knew Tom pretty well, and it wasn't hard to tell whether or not his facial features were correct and fully there.
"Yup," the older man replied, wiping at his eyes. Doug was pulled from his thoughts at this spoken word, and he quickly tore his eyes from Tom, who he had been staring at. He didn't need to be caught, because then he would have a hard time trying to explain why he was doing so. "Well, have a good day, goodbye," the man finished, and Doug muttered a quick goodbye as Tom waved his hand.
Then they were off again, a son pushing a father who thought he was much younger than he actually was.
"You okay?" Doug asked once they had disappeared behind a car, refocusing his attention on Tom once again. Except this time he wasn't staring like an idiot while random thoughts floated throughout his head. This time his gaze he had focused on the younger man was purely concern.
"Yeah, course I am," Tom replied, "Why? Did I wave wrong?" This last part was sarcasm, and Doug knew it. He would have laughed, too, if Tom hadn't sounded so harsh as well as sarcastic. And Doug knew pretty well what bitter sarcasm was like.
"No, just noticed something different about your smile," the older man replied. "Guess it doesn't matter, though, it might have just been your waving that threw me off, who knows?"
"Fuck you, Doug," Tom hissed with a sudden anger. "I mean, I'm sorry I don't feel like smiling, okay? I'm sorry that I don't find an old man with a cast on his leg amusing. And I'm sorry I ever went to El Salvador with you, because you shoulda just realized that she was dead! But no, you had to go find out for sure. So fuck you, and goodbye." Tom hissed the last word strongly, then turned away from the entrance, ready to leave. He would have, too, if Doug had not stopped him with a forceful grip on the shoulder.
"Get offa me," Tom hissed. "Now. Get the hell off me, Doug."
"Not until you tell me what the fuck your problem is," Doug answered with his own anger. His annoyance was gone, and his worry had burrowed away inside of him so that the anger could be let out in full force. He turned Tom around quickly so that they were now facing each other, and stared directly into the other man's eyes. He had expected to see hate and anger swimming around like fish underwater in Tom's gaze; instead he saw fear and pain, and he quickly let his hand fell, knowing that he had helped in bringing those feelings out. "I-I'm sorry, Tom," he muttered stupidly. "I shouldn't of grabbed you like that."
"Yeah?" Tom asked bitterly, his gaze darkening. "Next time just fuck off and leave me alone, alright?"
Tom spun around quickly, ignoring the pain that shot throughout his body like a wildfire. Maybe he did need the hospital, but right now he didn't care. He just wanted to get away from Doug and everybody else in the world. This time there was no grip on the shoulder to hold him back, and he quickly walked off, feet pounding against the pavement heavily.
"Tom, wait-!" Tom heard Doug call out, although he didn't really seem to notice. He had heard, but he had chosen to just ignore whatever came next. If Doug felt ignored, then maybe he would finally realize that Tom wanted to be left alone. If he didn't, then at least Tom could leave Doug alone, instead. And ignoring him seemed to be the best way to do so. So he kept walking through the parking lot, hopefully towards a road where he could catch a cab, not listening to anything that Dog continued to yell at him. He was probably just offering me a ride or something like it, anyways, Tom thought. Which doesn't matter because I'll have a ride soon, so just piss off. He had wanted to turn around and shout the last part right at Doug, but he realized that that would show signs of hearing and listening to Doug, and that Tom did not want to do. So instead he muttered it under his breath, added Doug at the end, and quickened his pace. He knew that if he didn't get into a cab soon, then Doug would hop into his vehicle and follow him. He would probably even try to push him into it, as well, and Tom did not want to have to explain to anybody why his best friend was attempting to kidnap him. Or why it looked like he was, because how could you kidnap your best friend when you're really just trying to help him? Tom shook his head back and forth rapidly, trying to knock the thoughts out of his head: thinking was really to starting to hurt his head, and it was mostly because everything he was thinking was extremely confusing and made no sense at all. Finally all that was left in his mind were blank thoughts, an array of emptiness waiting for thoughts to be laid out, like an artist's canvas before they destroy it artistically.
Doug stared after Tom, confused at what had just happened. One moment Tom had been ignoring him, the next they were talking and laughing. Then there was the old man and his son, another conversation, and then the anger had come. After that, Tom was gone. It had happened so fast, as well, and that was why Doug was now standing at the entrance of a hospital with no reason for heading inside anytime soon. That would actually be a pretty stupid idea, now, because his reason for going inside had just stormed off in a rushed burst of anger and hate. Actually, Doug thought, that may have seemed like anger and hate, and I guess it was, but there was also pain there. He thought about following Tom, but then realized that he should wait until the younger man had calmed down. Then he could have an easy conversation, and try to figure out what had just happened. Until then, though, Doug had a little boy to take care of. He wouldn't deal with Tom until tomorrow, because he would see him at work... if Tom even showed up. If he didn't, then Doug would track him down. But if Doug didn't get Clavo, go home, and find a babysitter for tomorrow, then he would be the one not going into Jump Street Chapel tomorrow. So until tomorrow, he would just forget about everything that had just happened, let Tom calm down(probably drink his problems away), and figure out what he was going to do with Clavo. He wasn't entirely sure, yet, although he would have to figure it out soon. Doug pushed every thought about Tom out of his head, and instead started thinking about Clavo: where he would sleep, what he would eat, where he would get clothes for him, and a babysitter. There were probably more things to worry about, and this made Doug sigh in annoyance. He hadn't known what he was getting into before, but now he was beginning to realize exactly what that was: a ton of confusion and a major change in his life.
TBC...
