I am in school one day after the accident when suddenly I get a text
from the Gamzee's foster mom. He is getting worse. I rush out of
school immediately, barely even stopping to sign out. After I barrel
out, calling my mom to pick me up since I can't drive, I silently
hyperventilate, almost fainting with worry. We stop by first store we
find, even though it's in a gas station, and I buy all the Faygo I
can. My mom speeds to the hospital, which shows the situation is
serious. She almost never goes above the speed limit, or even within
5mph of it.
As soon as I get to the hospital, I'm frantically wheeling myself in,
barely keeping my hysteria controlled as I scream at the poor lady at
the reception desk. She lets me through and I slam my hand repeatedly
on the "open door" button laying on top of the smooth metal elevator
control panel. The doors open up and I wheel myself in, screaming at
the elevator to go faster, faster to my dying matesprit. Too late, too
late are the words whirling around in my brain, hoping they're not
true, not true. Circling faster and faster are the wheels on my
wheelchair, faster than they've ever gone before. I burst into the
room labeled "Makara" to the sight of a ridiculously pale Gamzee
curled up in the fetal position, grinning slightly at the sight of me.
"Oh n-no Gamzee! What h-happened?
His voice is soft and weak, and I have to lean in just to hear it.
"Motherfucking nothing Tavbro. I just started feeling bad and suddenly
I had all these nurses crowding around be me."
"Is there anything I can do for you? I got you some Faygo."
"No thanks. I'm not thirsty."
This was a bad sign. He always was thirsty for Faygo.
"There is one thing though. Come closer."
I slowly approach, trying not to be too loud so as not to disturb the
other patients.
"Tavros, because I don't have much time-"
"That's not true! Don't say that!
"Don't lie to me. There is one thing though. Tell me a story."
"But Gamzee, what about?
"Anything."
"W-well, okay... Here goes nothing."
I curl up next to him, careful not to knock any of the spindly wires leading
into his body, and begin weave my story, spinning the threads of his
despair into a light, carefree day from long ago.