Hello!

It's not Thursday, but know I won't be able to post tomorrow - so I'm doing it today.

Lou and Nancy Rock!

SM owns.

* Lyrics inside: "I'll Be There For You" by Bon Jovi form the "New Jersey" LP (1988)

Chapter 10

I'm confused. Then, I'm nauseous. And paralyzed.

He's gone.

The bed is empty, sheets straightened. Nothing is beeping in the semi-darkness, no trace of the patient, not even his used glass of water. I can't figure it out. He was here a few minutes ago. He was here. No way he's been transferred - not without his Doctor's permission, which means, mine, and not in the evening. These things don't happen in the evenings.

Unless… unless we've seriously challenged Fate, and he's in the ICU for real.

Maybe he's dying. Maybe I'm losing him at this very moment.

You… well goddamnit, you fucked up, crazy, evil BITCH, how could you!

I weep while my body gives out, and I grab the bed frame for support.

"Looking for someone?"

The familiar voice behind me makes me even weaker in the knees. My ears get warm, and I suddenly realize it's so easy to breathe. I know this voice. I love this voice.

I turn to look at his feeble attempts to walk, using every possible surface for leverage. I'm so proud of him, but so pissed, bile is going to erupt from my throat.

"Why are you out of bed, Jasper?" I do my best not to shout. He looks so proud of himself too, although his features are somehow distorted, probably by pain.

"I couldn't wait for the nurse and ventured to the restroom. Didn't want to put a stain on those white sheets, you know." It's a pity he looks so content. I can't - simply can't leave it like this.

"Don't you ever, and I mean EVER get up without a doctor's permission, hear? EVER!" His pout almost makes me regret my outburst, but no, this shouldn't happen again. I really mean it.

"What's gotten into you, Doctor?" His eyebrows are raised. "It wasn't that bad."

"Let me explain. You can get yourself into the ICU earlier than planned. Is that reason enough?"

A short, noisy intake of breath indicates he's about to speak, but no words follow. He must have thought it over, I guess, and as he nods several times to whatever runs through his mind, he takes a couple of steps forward. When he's finally beside me, standing still in anticipation, it dawns on me he expects me to lay him down.

I let go of the bed frame and face him, our chests almost touching. I hear his breathing, and smell the trace of sweat coming from his neck. I should bathe him… Oh… Focus, Cullen. He takes my hand and retreats, his back turned on the bed, and I follow. Then he grabs at my elbow and sits, putting his weight on my arm, making me lean over. Now I can smell the sweat even stronger, and I wonder why it smells so good. Pleasant, and warm. Before I know it, he's pushed the sheets aside, and his palms crawl over my shoulders, locking at the nape of my neck. His weight makes me lean further until his head rests on the pillow, and he pulls some more. Our lips touch.

I don't dare to move. This is magnificent. Our second kiss, initiated by him.

No tongues this time, only several long moments of us connected in the most delicate of ways.

Then he unclasps his hands, which is a sign for me to stand up, reluctantly.

"You sorta overreacted, admit it," he says.

"Yeah. For a minute I thought you were dead. It was shocking. I love you, remember?"

"No, you don't love me, Edward."

"Yes, I do."

"But you hardly know me? How is it possible?"

He smiles, as if I'm a kid who can't figure out how to tie his shoelaces.

I stand silent. How do I explain this? Why don't they believe me? My mom and dad, and now, him?

"Okay, listen… There's a line in a song that plays in a loop in my mind. 'When you breathe, I wanna be the air for you.'* I know people don't say things like that in their everyday life, but when I look at your lips, I want to be sucked through them. I want to be your every gulp of air. I want to be consumed by you in every way humanly possible, actually."

"That's called attraction, Edward." He purses his lips and looks aside.

I have nothing else to say. I only hope he'll understand, some day. Right now, there's no use in telling him that simply looking at him is blinding, suffocating, and exhausting. Yes, I'm attracted, why wouldn't I be? He's beautiful. The image of his lips wrapped around my cock sends waves of pleasure from the soles of my feet, up my calves, knees and thighs, straight to my balls and guts. The single thought of making contact with his body, penetrating him, makes me dizzy. I don't let myself think of that.

But there's more to it. True fact, I don't know him, at all. Yet, I feel like I've lived in his head for ages, hearing his every thought. I know his thoughts are beautiful, and his heart is beautiful. He's strong, and undefeatable, although he's suffered.

I'd stand in a bullet's way if that would save his life. I'd give my kidney, or any of my organs, if needed.

And I imagine growing old with him by my side.

I call this love. He'll understand, some day.

A soft knock on the door interrupts my chain of thought. Jasper has dozed off, but he snaps his head to the sound of the opening door. A nurse steps in, someone I've never seen; she must be new. She's carrying a clean glass and a bottle of water, as well as medicine on a tray.

"Oh, sorry, Doctor." She hesitates whether to come closer or leave, so I encourage her to bring the tray in and do whatever she needs to do.

"My name is Jane, nice to meet you. I just started today. Nurse Stanley sent me earlier with a bedpan, but I found no one. I didn't know if it was okay to make the bed while you were gone, Sir. I hope you didn't mind." She talks to Jasper. "Here, I brought you a clean glass, and your pills. I'm going to leave now." She puts the tray on the nightstand and walks by me, "Doctor," she nods, and then disappears.

The pills are in Jasper's mouth, and he's about to drink from the bottle, when I'm hit by a thought.

"Spit!" I shout. "Spit them out, Jasper!"

He spits, and coughs, and looks at me with those huge eyes.

"I haven't prescribed these!" I can't be calm, and I realize I'm shouting at him. The look of horror on his face is clear. I guess mine looks the same, but that was too many pills. "That amount, Jasper, would kill you."

I sit on the bed beside him, hold his hand, and stare at him for a long time. His breathing calms, and he looks me straight in the eye.

"I have to disappear. Quickly." He clenches the bedsheet. "I'm starting a convulsion, you call your colleagues to help, and witness, right?"

Once again, he lets saliva stain his cheek and his eyes roll up.

So, we have not time left. We're doing it now.