Chapter Two-Hundred and Eighty-Seven
Claire stepped into John's hospital room, gently kissing his lips and placing a cup of water beside him. "Hey Sugar." She smiled, brushing his hair back and looking into those deep brown eyes of his. "How do you feel?"
He pulled her down to him again, slipping his tongue between her teeth and tasting every inch of her. He moaned into her mouth as she returned his kiss, tangling his fingers in her hair and trying to pull himself closer to her with a hand around her ribs.
She pushed him back down, gently touching his neck that they'd released from the brace for a moment. "Stay down. You can't support your head yet."
He growled, moving his head slightly until Claire corrected his placement on the pillows. "I can too."
She cocked a brow, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine. If you can sit up by yourself, I'll take it back."
He smirked, carefully pushing himself off of the pillows before he collapsed back with a cry of pain. "Fuck!" He grit his teeth, fighting the tears as Claire placed the brace back on his neck and clipped it in place. "Fuck, fuck, fuck…"
She rolled her eyes, slipping her hands under his hospital gown and rubbing gentle circles on his pecs. "I told you." She kissed him again, brushing a stray tear from his cheek.
"My feet are all tingly…" He croaked, still trying to regain his breath.
Her eyes widened, before she rushed to get Ryan. "Ryan!" She stumbled to a halt in front of the doctor, gasping for breath. "John said his feet are tingling."
Ryan pushed past her, stepping into John's room and grabbing something from one of the drawers. "Get the covers away from his feet." He opened the needle, ignoring the panic in John's eyes as he lined it up with the tips of his toes. "Let me know if you can feel this." He pricked John's skin, sighing in relief when John pulled away and hissed in pain. "Thank God…" He placed his hands on John's legs, squeezing them all the way up to just below the knee. "You can feel that, right?"
John nodded a little, gasping as Ryan squeezed on a tender spot. "Ow…"
Claire combed her fingers through John's hair, attempting to relax him. She hated seeing him in pain, but as of late, that seemed to be the only thing she ever got to see. He'd broken his foot while in prison, and several of the tendons in his knee had been torn or stretched. He hadn't told anyone what had happened, and Claire was pretty sure he wouldn't be talking anytime soon. With John, it could be days or even years before he would talk about it.
John sighed as he flipped through the channels on the tv again, itching to have something interesting to do in this boring hell. He moved his eyes to the door as it was pushed open, snarling when he saw that it was Timothy. "What the hell are you doing here?" He asked, never taking his eyes off of him as he stepped to the foot of the bed.
"You think you're so high and mighty?" He asked, throwing a news paper at him. "You look down from your stage, watching all of them worship you and bow at your feet. What about the rest of us? The sorry saps who don't get to live your life of fame."
"What are you talking about? I play for fun. I play for enjoyment."
Timothy stepped toward the head of John's bed, jerking a pillow out from under John's head. "Bullshit." He growled, forcing the pillow over John's face and holding it tight against the thrashing boy as he fought for breath. "All you care about is yourself."
John's hand landed on the call button for Nancy, slamming his finger on it repeatedly until Timothy was yanked away from him and the pillow fell from his face. He gasped for breath, rolling onto his side in an attempt to make it easier to get air into his lungs.