AN: Many of you know this story from DeviantArt. I have not been updating my account there very often, due to limited computer access (my phone doesn't update things well, unfortunately). For those of you who don't, this was inspired from my father's car accident, a year ago next month. It kept me busy during the hours I couldn't sleep while waiting to hear from the hospital, after Dad got sent hours away when they found a fracture in one of his disks in his neck.
Several of the lines are actual things I jotted down in the waiting room of the hospital while they wouldn't let me see my Dad. I have learned to hate waiting rooms from this experience. Three hours and they wouldn't even tell us how he was doing.
I was partway through writing the second chapter, two months later, when my father suddenly had a heart attack and died. All of my writing, my art, everything, just…well, I couldn't focus. It took six months before I felt I was regaining some of my desire to try. This story, as well as my one titled Taming Of The Scarecrow, are two projects I'm hoping to focus on again, as I'm regaining voice. It will likely be a slow process, but I plan on bringing the two stories to a satisfactory end, as I had intended, and so, if you can be patient, I hope I do not disappoint.
This story is now so far beyond OCC now, but I still enjoy writing it, and thus I hope others will still enjoy reading it.
All characters except for the doctors and the people in the other car all belong to Tessa Stone, who is awesome and willingly allows us to play with her characters.
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He sat there, holding the broken pocket watch in his hands. Toni was sitting next to him, going back and forth between putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder and staring out the window at the people leaving the ER. Zombie Guy- what had Hanna called him today? Takashi? Leon?- had opted to stay outside, while Hanna was across the room. Somewhere to his left was Conrad, who was trying to avoid looking at the other occupants of the room. And the mirrors.
Mirrors on every fucking wall of the waiting room. Why? So everyone can see how much they're freaking out?
The guy a few chairs away got up and entered the single, unisex, handicap accessible bathroom. A minute or two pass of silence before the sound of vomiting can be heard. It's not pleasant, nothing about this place is. The dead silence beyond the fragmented whispers of conversation, the uncomfortable mock-cushioned wood-framed chairs, the growing dread of not knowing how he was doing.
Remembering his face, covered in blood, and the front of the car, all smashed to hell.
Veser's grip on the watch tightened. "How long has it been since the lady said twenty minutes?"
Toni paused to think.
"Probably about forty."
A numb nod, back to staring at the watch. It wasn't ticking. Idly, he wondered how pissed Ples would be about that.
Broken glass everywhere. The windshield was fragmented, but the driver's window was gone. The airbag hadn't deployed, Ples, laying limp against the steering wheel-
Veser shot up, running the few feet to the door and the desk beyond.
"Hi, I arrived with the patient Ples Tibenoch…" The woman nodded. "I…was wondering if anything came out about how he was doing?"
The woman smiled. "They were wheeling him in to get a CAT scan of his head and neck."
"Can I see him?"
"The police are still with him, so I can't let you. I'm sorry."
Veser nodded, "Okay." It wounded weak, even to his own ears. The lady flashed him an apologetic smile.
"Just go back to the waiting room. I'll have someone come get you."
The waiting room was just as cheery as he had left it, though his friends gazed at him as he took his seat.
"They're checking out his head."
Hanna shifted in his chair. Silence took control of the room again. Conrad busied himself rereading the posters on the wall, fidgeting with his hood as he passed within view of one of the mirrors.
Toni placed her hand on his shoulder again, forcing a small smile.
"He's going to be okay."
Veser nodded, but couldn't force himself to agree.
Hanna stood up. "I need some air," and he ran out the door. Through the windows, Toni watched as he moved to cling to his zombie's shirt.
A new girl entered the room and looked around, bee-lining to the television in the corner and turning it on.
She must have some emergency, Veser thought bitterly. Look, she's laughing. She's watching tv and laughing while Ples is laying in a bed somewhere bleeding and oh my god, what if he's dying? Fuck, FUCK, that's what's taking them so long. He's dying and they don't know how to tell us an it's all my fault and--
"Are you here for Mr. Tibenoch?"
Veser was on his feet before anyone else had a chance to move.
"Yes. How is he? Can we see him?"
"We're still waiting for the results of the x-rays, but he appears to be just fine. Um…" The doctor looked Veser over, "are you family?"
"Yes."
"May I ask how?"
"Boyfriend?" he tried. The doctor appeared skeptical. "Hey, I know there's a bit of an age gap. Don't judge us."
"…This way, please."
Veser nodded, looking at Toni. She smiled.
"We'll go tell Hanna."
"Okay." And he followed the doctor out into the hallway. Ples' room was three down from the entrance, and the door was open. Veser peaked in. It was silent, aside from the heart monitor.
"Ples?" He took a few steps in.
The nurse that was taking the older man's blood pressure smiled.
"He's okay."
No, no he's not okay. He's not ticking. How can he be okay if he's not ticking?
The nurse stepped out, talking to the doctor in a whispered voice. Veser paid them no mind, moving to take in the surreal sight of Ples in a green, polka-dot hospital gown. There was an IV in his arm, connected to nothing, and the gashes on his forehead were still bleeding. His wallet lay on the table next to him, beside his shattered glasses.
"…How are you feeling?"
"Not…too bad, I suppose." The brace on his neck kept him from turning too far, but he searched out Veser with his eyes, taking in the small scratches on his face. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, yeah…um…here." He placed the broken pocket watch in one of Ples' hands. Ples rubbed it with his thumb, before raising it above his head to look at it with a frown.
"Broken."
"I'm sorry."
Ples lowered his hand, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he locked them with Veser's.
"The watch can be fixed. I'm just glad it wasn't you that got broken."
"Instead it was you," Veser's voice cracked, and he had to look away. He focused on the ceiling, with all it's little dots and lines. And the lights, with the stupid plastic covering to try and make it look like the sky. One even had stupid fake kites "flying" around.
"Veser," Ples made sure the boy was looking at him, "I'm fine."
"You look like shit."
"Thanks for the reassurance," there was a hint of a laugh at the end, causing Veser to give a small, weary smile.
"Well, you do."
Blood and glass. Ples' limp form over the steering wheel, illuminated by the headlights of the vehicle that'd struck them. Shaken people staggering out of the other car. More vehicles stopping. Blue lights in the distance, coming closer.
Head wounds bleed, he knows. Gods does Veser know. But there's so much dripping down and Ples isn't moving and he's dead, he's dead, oh gods he's dead. He's just lost Lee and now he's lost Ples, too, and it's all his fault. Ples was picking him up and fuck, he should've just stayed at the dorm over the break but he'd asked Ples and now…
Now he was scrambling over the seat, glass digging into his hands and legs but it doesn't matter, pain doesn't matter, he's dealt with pain but Ples isn't moving and he just needs to know.
A few shaky breaths and Veser is relieved; he hasn't lost him yet, not yet, and he's still holding on to him when the paramedics come to take them away.
Ples' hand touches Veser's and the younger jumps, just slightly.
"I apologize for scaring you."
"I don't get scared." He tightened his grip on the old man's hand anyway.
"For worrying you, then."
Veser nods, looking down at their joined hands. Ples' skin had always been paler than his, but in the hospital lighting, the difference was much more apparent. Instead of looking like a man who hardly saw the sun, he looked more like…Well, like Conrad. Like he was dead and reanimated. But while he knew a few dead boys that could still talk and move, the hand in his was warm, and the heart monitor in the corner beeped on, counting the seconds of silence away before the doctor appeared in the door.
"Mr. Tibenoch, how are you feeling?"
"About the same as the last time you asked." He moved, as if to get up, before stopping himself. "May I sit up?"
"Go ahead. The nurses will be in to take the neck brace off in a minute. I would like to talk to your boyfriend for a minute, is that alright?"
"I-I…He…He…I d-don't….we're…" Still laying down, he cast Veser a look.
What did you tell them?
Veser shrugged-It got me in to see you, didn't it?-before giving him a smile, releasing his hand to follow the doctor out of the room.
"The results of the CAT scan were clean, so we'll be releasing him into your care," the doctor began, making his way across the very short hallway to a glass office. A few of the nurses he'd seen before were sitting there, filling out paperwork, or chatting amongst themselves. Some guy walked by with a urinal, presumably on his way to take it to testing.
"It'd be best for him to take the next few days easy, plenty of bed rest to avoid pulling the stitches. He'll want to make an appointment in five to seven days to get them removed so the injuries can heal with less chance of scarring. Closer to five would be preferable." Veser nodded. "The rest will also help make sure there is no damage to his spine."
"I thought the x-ray came out clean?"
"It has. But damage can still be done after the fact, so it's best he avoids any strenuous activities for the next week or so. And if he feels any pain, we encourage he get it checked out immediately before it becomes anything serious."
"Okay, so bed and I should do all the work," Veser smiled, taking the clipboard from the doctor and scribbling his name on the dotted line. "Anything else?"
"Once he's dressed, he's free to go."
"Thank you."
Veser hurried back into the room just as the nurses were leaving with the neck brace. Inside, Ples was just buttoning his pants. He looked at him, before focusing his attention on the stained shirt lying on the bed, pulling it on with a sigh.
"The nurses have done nothing but give me distressing looks since you left," Ples said, doing up the buttons.
"They're just jealous. C'mon, you get all of this," Veser gestured to himself, "waiting on you hand and foot for the next few weeks."
Ples frowned. "I don't want you waiting on me."
Veser pouted. "Oh come on! I can take care of you really good!"
"That's not…" Ples caught sight of one of the nurses glancing in at them, face turning red as he moved to put on his shoes. "I-I am…q-quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you."
"Too bad," Veser grinned. "Doctor's orders."
"R-really, it's not…necessary."
"I'm staying with you anyway," Veser threw an arm around his shoulders best he could with the height difference, leading him from the room. "So it doesn't matter. I'm gonna anyway."
He took Ples' sigh as a sign of surrender.
