Chapter XI: When We Were Good
According to Max, too much of anything was bad, all things in moderation. Normally, Fang agreed whole heartedly with the statement. It was their joint theory that if the world would just take more things in moderation, there would be no addiction, no war, no disagreements, no tragedy. All things in moderation. It made the world so much better.
But then again, maybe not in all situations was moderation best. Like... um... well, he'd think of something else later, but the point was: she was being completely ridiculous when she'd tried to apply it to their current situation. Meaning: she'd suggested they take a break from the hospital and spend a day in the city.
The blonde girl had said all he (yes, she'd singled him out among the group) did these days was sit by Iggy's bedside and talk to his comatose body. According to her, he needed to go out and get something to eat, take a nap, relax- at least for a short time. That had been last night, and he'd laughed and brushed it off as just a half-baked plan she'd forget in the morning. As most of them were.
So he'd spent the night in Iggy's silent company, dozing off occasionally, though only when he'd heard Max pass by. She worried too much, really, a coke and some sugar was better than a couple hours of sleep. He couldn't remember the last time he got a full night of sleep. Most recent ones were filled with worry, and even before that, he and Iggy had spent many nights up together, just talking.
In any case, he'd spent that night just as any other, not really concerned with what Max had said earlier. But, that morning, when he'd left the room for only a moment to grab a coke and settle back down by Iggy's side, she'd shooed him out of room and wouldn't let him through, despite his best attempts to break down the door.
Instead, while he sat outside in the hallway, grumbling to himself, she hatched a plan with Dr. Martinez, who arranged their entire day in a matter of minutes. Taxi cabs, restaurants, shops and even a show. A day for him, and everyone else in the group, to be happy with. After all, it was so unhealthy to sit around and be sad, cooped up in a hospital. How can it be unhealthy to sit in a hospital, for god's sake?
But it's what they said.
"C'mon," Max said, bursting through the door like a gust of wind after nearly twenty minutes being cooped up in that room with Dr. Martinez. Honestly, he'd expected something a little more grandiose, a great announcement of exactly what they were going to do that day. But she just said 'c'mon'? Very disappointing.
"Get your coat, the taxi will be here soon." she said, turning to him suddenly. As she looked down upon him, her eyes turned softer, and her mouth fell into a sympathetic frown. Fang forced himself to look away, he didn't need her pity. He didn't need her at all. He had never needed her and her stupid ideas and concern. Not even at the School. She'd been the needy one...
"I don't want to," Fang moaned, rubbing his cheek miserably. He was sitting with his back pressed against the cold, white hospital wall, his knees curled to his chest, and his arms wrapped around his knee caps, resting his forehead on top of his arms. A small, compact package, a.k.a., the fetal position. Despite the fact that Fang had perfected the art of bottling his emotions, he still found comfort in this position.
She groaned in a very netted manor as a way of response, but tried to stay nice and sweet. Plastering a smile on her face, and lowering her voice as if talking to a small, scared child, she squatted down next to him, putting her hand sympathetically on top of his.
"He's gonna be fine," she cooed, her voice sweet like honey, but maybe too sweet, "He might even wake up soon."
"But what if he wakes up today?" Fang said pointedly. She knew quite well that he planned to be there the second he woke up.
"I can assure you, he won't," that was Dr. Martinez, appearing from the depths of yet another all white hospital room. Fang couldn't help but shudder a little, the more he stayed here, he hated the hospital. The whiteness, cleanliness, the smell of chemicals... it was like the School all over again.
"How can you know that?" he raised an eyebrow, knowing there was no way for them to be able to pinpoint the exact second anything was going to happen. It simply wasn't possible.
"He may, um, well," she blushed a bit at her own wordlessness, "We might have to send him into surgery again. Nothing big, just some light swelling of the brain that we might have to clear up. And if we send him in, he'll be guaranteed to be out all day."
"And if you don't send him in?" Fang murmured softly, pulling himself up off the floor, ignoring Max's outstretched hand of help.
"If you want, we could give him a light sedative, so he won't wake up." she offered with a bit of a shrug, as it to say 'this is what I can do, take it or leave it.'
"No," Fang said sharply, surprising both women, "Don't drug him. I'll just... I'll... god, I don't know." Dejectedly, he ran his fingers through his hair, he was completely torn. On one side, seemingly selfishly, he did want to take some time outside the hospital, to see things and what not, to relax and get himself together, but also, he knew he shouldn't leave Iggy's side. He loved him, he loved him so much, he couldn't bear the thought of him waking up, and for him, Fang, not to be there. Instead he might wake up to the face of some blonde nurse named Debbie, or something. Ugh, Debbie, what an awful name.
"Fang," Max said quietly, throwing a look at Dr. Martinez as if to say 'just a second' and pulling him down the hall, so no one else could hear them, "He's not going to love you any less if you're not there the second who wakes up."
But she didn't understand. He would. He really wouldn't love him as much, he had to be there. He absolutely had to. Because if Iggy didn't remember, then he'd have to be there, to remind him of what happened, and how much they loved each other.
He couldn't imagine what would happen if Iggy didn't remember. No, actually, that was a lie. He could, but really, he didn't want to try.
Maybe things would go back to the way they were before, when they were just friends. But if it did, Fang knew his heart would still ache for something he couldn't have.
Maybe he'd remember later, but would it be too late? When they were each confined into their roles as heterosexual men, and they were forced to move on?
In either scenario, Fang was sure one of them would end up with their heart ripped out, laying bloody on the floor while the other moved on. He was pretty certain that would be him, too, that ended up with the broken heart.
"Fang," Max said impatiently, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the elevator, "You're not going to do him any good if you tire yourself to death.
"Have a little fun, it's not going to kill either of you." she said, pushing the Ground Floor button.
How could she know? Fang wondered to himself, listening to the tones of the elevator as they stood in silence. Fang's thoughts traveling back to Iggy once more, Baby, I'm so sorry, he thought over and over again, praying to be blessed with Angel's telepathy, if only for a moment, I swear I'll be back soon.
Maybe later he'd ask the little girl to give Iggy a message for him... then again, maybe not. Maybe some things should just stay between them.
"What time are we getting back?" he asked as they stepped off the elevator and into the lobby area. At least then he could count down the hours 'till he was back again. And then he could probably hurry things up by telling them they were going to be late, or that they were taking too long.
"Eight, maybe?" Max shrugged in an annoyingly nonchalant way, "I can't really say."
"Where are we going first?" he questioned, out of the corner of his eye seeing Nudge, Gazzy and Angel rise from a section of waiting chairs near the nurse's station.
"Fang," Max said, opening the door for the group to file out, "Just relax, okay? It's all gonna turn out just fine."
Right, Fang had the urge to roll his eyes, but thought the better of it, knowing that Max's eyes would constantly be following him today. Any anti-social behavior would not be tolerated. Maybe Iggy's the lucky one.
Panic gripped Iggy tightly as he awoke with a terrified scream.
It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare. But a terrifying one all the same. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust his eyes to the pitch black, lightless dark that enclosed him. Enclosed him so tightly he felt as if he might suffocate in the eternal blankness.
But then, it hit him.
He was blind. He couldn't see anymore...
A whimpered sob escaped his throat, his mind racing desperately with scattered thoughts and visions of everything he'd never see again. He was blind! He was blind! Oh god, how could this happen?
He wanted to scream, to throw things and be glad to hear the sound of the delicate instruments spread out around the School breaking. The instruments that had taken away his sight forever, and not to mention their creators and operators, they'd go with them. The stupid bastards... how could they do this to him?
But he couldn't. He didn't know where they were, much less where he was. He was completely helpless.
By now, hot tears were dripping down his face and sobs were racketing through his chest.
He was so helpless, god it was pathetic the way he had to rely on people for everything now, the way he woke up like this, completely terrified because he couldn't see. It was so sad, it was like he was another little kid again, and not the tall-for-his-age ten-year-old he really was.
His life was ruined, dammit. Nothing would ever be right. Never again. Thanks to them, them and their stupid ideas and experiments. They gave him wings, perfect vision, speed, strength, but then they took it all away. In that one moment, they completely fucked the rest of his life up.
He pulled his knees to his chest, trying to muffle his sobs in the blankets.
Finally, unable to stop his emotions from sounding, a small cry escaped his throat, "Why did this happen to me?"
Curled in the fetal position, sobbing into his knees, Iggy could have not been anymore alone.
"You okay?" Nudge asked, looking at Fang with eyes full of concern and wonder. Her mouth turned down into a slight frown, and her brow furrowed. It wasn't a suitable look for Nudge, who was usually so bright and happy. Not at all.
Crammed in a car with her on his left, and Gazzy on his right, Fang was beginning to discover claustrophobia. It was... unnerving to sit so close to people. No matter how well he knew them. It still made him shiver and pull into himself, to feel Nudge's arm touching his, and Gazzy's hip bone in his thigh. Ugh. People.
Not to mention the overhanging scent of cigarettes in the car. And the fact that the driver insisted on playing his country music at the loudest possible tone. Plus, the A/C was broken, leaving the car stuffy and hot.
He was really beginning to hate Max now.
"Fine," he mumbled, brushing her off without a second thought. Not like she really understood what he was going through anyways. Nobody she loved was in a coma... then again, she was eleven. Not like she'd loved anyone like that before.
"Because if you're not, you know you can always talk to me. I'm good at listening. Iggy used to talk to me a lot, when we were back in Colorado. He told me a lot of things, like how he hated being blind, and how Max's Taylor Twins CD always annoyed him, and he told me about cooking too. I wish he would have taught me how to cook, cause that would have been so cool, I've always wanted to cook-"
"Nudge, please, just be quiet," Fang said sternly, clapping his hands over his ears firmly, attempting to divert the noise without luck, "I have a headache."
"Oh, sorry," she said quietly, "But if you ever wanna talk, you know I'm here."
Fang didn't say anything, he only shook his head and forced his eyes to follow a young couple wandering down the street, despite the burning sensation he felt deep inside, he wanted to talk to Nudge. He wanted to tell her everything, but he couldn't find the right words. Maybe later, when the words came to him. But not right now.
Fang could hear the sound, he could have heard it miles away. The tortured, muffled cries of Iggy. He'd woken up to the sound a dozen times, if not more. Usually, he was right at Iggy's side, hugging him and making the hurt go away. But even since the operation, he couldn't bring himself to make that walk down the hall and hold his best friend as he'd done a thousand times before.
It was so terrifying, the thought that Iggy, who he'd known for so long, could be hurt in such a way. Now, things would never be the same, and Fang knew that. He knew that very well. Never again would he be able to play hide and seek or tag. Well, maybe he would, but it wouldn't be the same. It'd all change. Because Iggy wouldn't be able to see them hiding, or see who he was running after... he'd have to play some other way. Change the rules.
And Fang was completely frightened of change. No more pattens, no more sameness. How could he possibly know what to do in a situation like this?
Yes, he told himself, curling onto his side and trying to block out the sound of Iggy's sobs, it was best not to get involved with this. For both of them.
The first event on the itinerary for the day was shopping. Or, in Fang's case, sitting around different shops aimlessly watching Dr. Martinez fuss over Angel and Gazzy while Max would attempt as usual to penny-pinch. Usually it went something like this:
"Maaax! I want this!" Whatever Angel was holding up, it was guaranteed to be pink, sparkly and very, very expensive. It was simply her taste.
"Sweetheart, I don't think..." But Max's desperate pleas not to bankrupt their sponsor would be silenced immediately.
"It's okay, here, Angel, let me see that," Dr. Martinez would coo, you could see her eyes bulge when she saw the price, but she'd smile and nod, taking out her credit card once more.
Max would usually try to talk her out of it, Angel would throw a fit and she'd shut up. No one really wanted to deal with the problem of Angel using her powers in the middle of a crowded store. That would be like setting off a bomb in a retirement home. It was just cruel. Plain and simple.
Then, the scenario would be repeated. Only this time, with Gazzy.
"Look! Look! It's so cool!" Whatever he was holding, it was usually robotic and just as expensive as whatever his sister had selected.
And well... you get the rest. Save one thing, his fits would be based around his newly discovered pyromania. And you thought Iggy was dangerous with fire!
No, the little Gasman seemed to be completely flame resistant. Except... the things around him usually weren't. Not a pretty picture. Not at all.
The only place Nudge got excited (surprising she hadn't gotten so aroused any where else, but not surprising what the one place she chose to be ecstatic was) was when they stopped at a RiteAid to get Angel a candy bar and she saw the makeup section. It was her current life dream to be a beautician. Last week she wanted to be a neurosurgeon/horse trainer.
She now had eyeshadow and nail polish in every color imaginable, eyeliner in black, blue and silver, and lip gloss in every flavor the candy shop offered. She wanted to get more hair dye too, but no one really trusted her that much. Iggy would have, but he was kind of a in a coma. One had to admit though, she did do a pretty good dye job last time.
Fang had gotten excited... no where, though Max had forcibly bought him some new clothes at a few places. He showed little interest, but he had to admit he needed them, so he let her buy them. No matter how much he didn't want to let her.
Dr. Martinez had tried to talk to him a few times, but he brushed her off. She checked in with the hospital twice, they'd sent him in, surgery went marvelous, he was fine. That seemed to be about it.
But Fang's heart still felt heavy with the guilt that he was leaving his best friend behind.
They went to lunch at a small restaurant called the Indigo Grill, where they bought out the back room and had ten of everything on the menu. They ate every last bit too.
"Fang," Nudge whispered halfway through their dozens of appetizers.
"What?" he hissed back, poking at his nacho plate boredly.
"No one else is listening," Which was true, most were engrossed with the fact that Total had suddenly developed a liking for Angel's onion ring plate, and was thereby stomping all over it. He didn't quite get why this was so important though.
At least, not until that day's earlier conversation hit him.
"Nudge!" Fang hissed sharply, "Get it through your head! I don't want to talk-"
"Stop lying," her voice was steeling cold, "I've seen the way you've been sulking all day. Don't tell me you 'don't want to talk about it', it's pretty obvious what you're doing. You're just cutting yourself off from us, and by doing that, nothing's going to get better. Just talk to me, Fang! I'm not going to laugh at you for saying more than one sentence consecutively!"
Fang groaned under his breath, but secretly, he could feel a bit of a flutter in his chest. A part of him- albeit, a very small part- knew he needed to do this. But another part, a much larger part, fought against it.
Well, you know what happened in David and Goliath.
And it all came pouring out. How Max had kissed him. His irrational fear of not being there when Iggy woke up. And how much he missed his voice, and the feeling of his skin against his own.
Nudge sat there, and didn't say a word for the remainder of their meal. Fang sat there, and was on the verge of tears for the remainder of their meal. But it was probably the best thing that had happened in a long time.
Iggy wanted to hear Fang's voice, to feel his breath against his ear and mostly, see his eyes light up in a smile once again. In fact, that's probably what he wanted the most in the world. He couldn't care less if he saw Max or Nudge, if their images faded from his memory what was he to do about it?
But he swore to himself the very day he awoke without his site, he'd remember Fang's face forever.
His hair, how it was nearly black but not quite, and the way it fell into his eyes when he was really concentrated on what was in front of him. His eyes, which were brown, but they had a ring of gold and sepia around his pupil. How the lit up in the morning. The way his face was eloquently shaped, with high cheek bones, a refined nose and a strong jaw line. He didn't look like anyone else he could ever imagine. Because Fang was one in a million. There would never again be anyone like him.
The reason he said it that way (what Max had called his 'pessimistic' way) was because Iggy felt like he was losing him.
Max had to admit, she enjoyed the day, even if almost everyone else didn't. It was good to get out, see what else was happening in the world. And to get food that didn't come out of a vending machine.
But the only other people who seemed to agree were Angel and Gasman, who took full advantage of the day and ate and shopped to their hearts content. But they were young, and easily forgot the tragedy that they'd left that morning. Almost running from. But Nudge and Fang didn't. Neither said more than two consecutive sentences that day, and neither bought anything or ate at their own will.
Maybe if Iggy died, no! No! That was a cruel thought! A horribly cruel thought! How could she even think that?
If he did, though... they'd move on...
Max pinched herself as punishment for even considering something so... heartless... cold... Not that she was thinking of killing him herself... but if he had... He wasn't though, he was going to wake up. Really soon. And they'd all leave New York and find themselves somewhere safe and warm. Maybe in Florida or something. Disney hadn't done them wrong yet.
Calm down Maximum, it's a natural part of mourning to blame the dead or dying person, the voice chimed in.
He's not dead yet. He's not going to die either.
Maximum... are you prepared for the fact that your friend could very well be dead when you return today?
No! The doctors-
Since when have you trusted doctors, Maximum? Honestly, haven't you learned anything?
She didn't reply to that, because she realized the voice was right. What had all their years at the school taught them, if not to be cautious? Never trust outside forces?
Oh god, what had she done?
"Iggy?" The boy's head shot up, bobbing in the darkness, searching for the sound of footsteps as the voice sounded from the doorway.
"F-Fang?" his voice was trembling, and then he could hear the sound of the door shutting, and hesitant foot steps...
But wait, this was wrong. That night- the night he'd woken up, crying for Fang- he'd never come. He'd spent the whole night alone, crying in his room and feeling sorry for himself... then how come...?
But before Iggy could register what was happening, his point of view flipped. He was standing in the corner of a room- almost exactly how he had pictured his room at the school- watching as fourteen-year-old Fang crept through the doorway. He took a seat at... his bedside?
But no, he was there... in the corner... he couldn't be...
Yet as he took a step closer, it was obvious now that the body in the bed was his own. With wires and oxygen and all sorts of tubes hooked up to his body... what happened? He didn't remember this happening before...
"I'm sorry." That was Fang, whispering to the body, "I didn't want to leave. Max made me. But I'm back now."
Iggy wanted to ask him where he'd gone, why he was apologizing, but found his voice was lost.
"I miss you... I miss you a lot... Everybody else does... I wish you'd wake up."
Iggy pinched himself, wanting to scream 'I'm right here!', but his voice was lost within his chest, and his body had gone so numb he couldn't even feel the pinching of the skin on his forearm. He glared at his slumbering body, as if to say 'Wake up, damn you!'. Of course, it didn't.
"I'm sorry this happened," Fang's voice suddenly seemed louder. As if projecting from a louder speaker of some sort, "I love you."
"I love you," Fang whispered, holding Iggy's pale, limp hand tightly in his own.
"Mmm, Fang."