So, it has been a really long time since I've actually written fanfiction. Or even written anything at all. So I decided to go through the unfinished stories that have been gathering dust on my computer. This is a story I've written a long time ago. I never posted it because it didn't feel finished yet. But considering that I'm probably never going to rewrite this story or add to it, I might as well put it on here for you guys. Maybe someone will like it, even though I'm not entirely convinced of this story myself.
Enjoy!
Is It Time Yet?
Zoey Edison knew she was considered weird and she knew well enough why. For one, she was about the only person in the world who didn't mind the smell of retirement homes. Well, maybe that was slightly exaggerated. But she had always felt a special connection to them. Then another thing that others might find strange: she loved taking care of old people, even the grumpy ones who really didn't want to be in a nursing home. And let's face it, how many of its residents actually liked being in there.
Most people didn't understand; her boyfriend certainly didn't. He was always complaining that she smelled like hospitals and old people. Which she had to admit wasn't necessarily untrue, no matter how hard St Mary's tried to make the place a bit more homey, less hospital-like.
It was still early as she did her rounds, waking up the residents and bringing breakfast to the ones who couldn't make it to the dining room anymore.
"Good morning, Mrs Coleridge! Did you sleep well?" she asked as she entered the sunlit room. Mrs Coleridge was one of their early birds. Somehow, she was always up when the nurses started their morning rounds. And as usual, she was bustling about the room, watering her many plants.
"Go away."
"I will as soon as I've given you your morning shot." The brisk old lady ignored her as she shuffled in and out of her bathroom, returning with a bright green watering-can. "Come on, Mrs Coleridge, it'll be done in no time, I promise."
"Leave me alone, I'm busy."
"It'll only take a minute and then you can go right back to your plants."
It took another round of coaxing and pleading before the woman finally sat down in an armchair and held out her arm, aiming an annoyed glare at her nurse.
"Alright, all done," Zoey announced as she cleared up the syringe. "Breakfast will be served in half an hour."
"I know, now go away."
Zoey sighed as she closed the door behind her. They all knew about Mrs Coleridge. Most of the time, she was a sweetheart with an amazing sense of humour. But not in the morning. She could get really crabby and uncooperative during the first few hours of the day. Zoey had already learned from the beginning not to take it personally. By noon, Mrs Coleridge would've forgotten all about whatever had irked her that morning and she'd be back to being her hilarious self.
The resident in the next room was another early riser. No matter at which hour they stood at his door, he was always up and dressed and ready for the day. Judging by the silence that met her as she approached the room, he wasn't singing this time. Not yet, at least.
Zoey had barely walked in, when a still strong voice met her.
"Good morning, Zoey."
"Good morning, Blaine. Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, I did. I had a wonderful dream."
Blaine Anderson was sitting comfortably in an armchair, his face turned towards the early sunlight coming in through the window. Laugh lines surrounded his closed eyes and his mouth, showing off eighty-three years of joy. His grey hair was illuminated by the sunshine, which gave it an almost ethereal glow.
"Yeah? What did you dream about?" she asked, adding, "I'm going to take your blood pressure, alright, love?"
"About Kurt," Blaine answered with a dreamy smile, obediently lifting up his arm for her. "I miss him."
An uncomfortable feeling stirred in the pit of her stomach. Zoey never knew what to say when residents made comments like that. She didn't want to sound falsely understanding or even pitying. Truth was, she had no idea what it was like to miss someone like that and she could only hope she wouldn't have to for a very long time.
"I'm sure you do," she eventually settled on. She finished taking his blood pressure, which was a bit lower than usual but not alarmingly so, and noted the results down in his chart. After promising to come get him when it was time for breakfast, she left his room to continue the rest of her rounds.
Blaine Anderson was her favourite resident. Zoey knew full well that she wasn't supposed to have favourites, but she couldn't help it. He was just so nice and charming. He was never cross and always did as they asked, never complaining about the food or the medication he had to take for his condition, or even about the staff, like some other residents – whose names she wouldn't mention – did. Overall, he was a very likeable guy and Zoey was more than sure she wasn't the only one who thought of it that way. But despite his nearly perpetual good mood, he did have some bouts of melancholy every once in a while.
Like that one day in March, a day Zoey would never forget.
It was cloudy, with the sun breaking through every now and then. Uncharacteristically, Blaine had been sitting in his room all morning. When she went to check if he needed anything, he asked her a question that, in hindsight, would make the hairs on her arm stand up.
"Is it time yet?"
"Time for what, dear?" she asked as she straightened up the sheets of his bed, smoothing out the creases he couldn't see.
"Is it time to go yet?"
Racking her brains, Zoey tried to figure out whether they had any activities planned that day that she'd forgotten about, but she came up empty.
"What do you mean, Blaine? Where are you going?"
"To Kurt, of course."
Zoey froze. For a while, she stared at him, searching his face for even the smallest sign that he was just kidding. But his unseeing eyes revealed nothing.
"No, Blaine, it's not time yet," she finally said tentatively. "We'd like to keep you with us a bit longer."
He smiled sadly, not uttering another word.
Later that day, Zoey mentioned the incident to one of her colleagues, suggesting he might be depressed and maybe they should think of getting him a therapist? But her former mentor didn't think it was necessary.
"He's just a bit down today. No need to panic. They all have their moments every now and then," Vicky assured her.
Zoey nodded, but she was still worried. Vicky was right, though. The next day, Blaine seemed happier than ever, singing old songs she vaguely recognised and even playing the piano a few times. He told anyone who cared to listen detailed stories of his youth, about Kurt and how they'd met, and about how, back in the day, he and his husband had been stars on Broadway. All day long, he was so full of energy that it was like the medication he'd taken that morning had made him at least ten years younger.
So it came as a shock to Zoey when she found him in bed the next morning, the curtains still closed.
"Blaine?"
She reached out to wake him, but drew her hand back when she took a closer look at him. It wouldn't be of any use. The tears that welled up in her eyes obscured the sight of his closed eyes, the peaceful expression on his face and the small, content smile around his mouth.
It wasn't the first time one of her residents had died, and she knew it wouldn't be the last time. That was one of the downsides of her job. But this particular passing was hitting her hard. Powerless to contain her emotions, she stumbled out into the hallway, barely able to get a word out. To her relief, Vicky immediately took charge of the situation. She quickly ordered a few of the other nurses into the room before gently guiding her shell-shocked colleague into the break room and handing her a cup of tea.
Later that day, as she lay in bed next to her boyfriend and listened to his breathing, Zoey would remember the way Blaine had looked, how serene, as he lay motionless in his bed. She would remember the days leading up to it and eventually realise she could actually be happy for him. First, she would grieve, but eventually, she'd rejoice; now Blaine was finally reunited with his beloved Kurt.
The end
