Chapter 14 : Complicated
The sound of someone opening the hospital room door caused Miles to bolt upright. The nurses were changing shifts and checking on patients. He smiled as the new nurse came in and introduced herself as Cheri.
"That's great, Cheri. Terrific. Listen, is there any change in his condition? Do the doctors know what kind of accident this was?"
"He says he fell down the stairs. It's difficult to say, and he has been on painkillers since he arrived. Once he wakes up, they will want to do some more tests on him," said Cheri.
"Alright. Be seeing you soon then," said Miles. He stretched and stood up, pacing as the nurse finished her routine and left the room. Alone again with Waylon.
He had driven straight from Leadville to the hospital in Denver, making it in two hours to find Waylon had been treated and admitted overnight. Waylon was asleep and on drugs when Miles arrived. He intended to stay near his friend all night, in case he woke, but sometime during the night he had fallen asleep in a chair, leaning forward on Waylon's hospital bed.
He stared at his friend's one visible eye, the other being bandaged due to a fracture in one of the facial bones in the middle of the face. The bruising and swelling visible around the bandages are horrific. There was also a tan bandage on his ankle—the same leg that he had been favoring when Miles had rushed to Denver to help his friend. It pained him to see his normally happy face looking so pale and splotched with purple bruises.
It was a strange sadness that his friend might finally be single, just as Miles had fallen for Billy Hope. Is this how Waylon for all those months? He had stuck with his new boyfriend while constantly wondering what would happen if he gave the other a chance? Would Waylon really consider dating him? And if he did, what then would happen with Billy?
Time and again, while waiting for sleep, Miles thought of Billy. The pain in his voice when Miles had called and told him their evening was rescheduled. He did not regret being there for Waylon, but he had been extremely excited about his evening. It was made worse by the way Billy had teased him before they hung up their call. Reminding him of exactly what he was going to be missing. Forcing Miles to move the phone away from his mouth and groan loudly in frustration.
Eddie Gluskin was the one behind this-Miles was positive. The nurse could only tell him that Waylon had been dropped off at the emergency room exit by a "friend." Waylon had told the doctors, upon admission, that he had tripped and fallen down the stairs outside his apartment building. While it was true that Waylon was not the most coordinated man Miles knew, he seriously doubted that was the real cause of Waylon's injuries.
Miles pulled the cheap curtains back slightly to look outside. The sun bathed Denver in the orange glow of first light. He could not help but remember the previous morning, waking up next to Billy. To think he would be waking up beside Waylon the very next day.
A soft rustling from the hospital bed caught his attention. Miles immediately dropped the curtain and returned to Waylon's bedside. One eye managed to open, the lids sticking together, actively discouraging him from waking. When Waylon's green eye finally managed to focus on Miles standing next to the bed, his swollen lips slowly spread in a small smile.
"Miles," breathed Waylon, trying, and failing, to sit up. Miles jumped to look at the controls and buttons until he found a way to recline the bed upwards. Once Waylon was sitting upright he yawned and attempted to stretch his limbs. "What are you doing here?" asked Waylon, his voice cracking from disuse. Miles automatically went to where the nurses had left a pitcher of water and some cups.
"The hospital called me. Apparently, I am still your emergency contact, through your old insurance," said Miles, filling up a Styrofoam cup and carrying it over to Waylon. "You look like shit, Park."
"Your mom looks like shit," Waylon replied in his hoarse voice. He took the cup in his hand, careful of the tubes and wires attached to his IV.
"Real mature," said Miles, waiting as Waylon drank in anticipation of taking the cup back and placing it out of the way. "You wanna tell me what happened?"
"Tripped down the stairs in the apartment complex. You know how they are. Concrete. Easily slippery. It was a hell of a tumble…"
"And you went face first?"asked Miles.
"…yeah what are the odds right? Well, considering this is me we're talking about, I guess they're pretty good…" said Waylon.
"What did you do this time? Forgot his medication again? Burnt his favorite pie? Accidentally spilled something on his lap?"
"Do you remember when we met?" Waylon asked, grinning despite his injuries.
"Don't change the subject. You need to get away from this brute. Your life could depend on it. Just look…"
"You were so drunk," Waylon said, chuckling to himself though it turned into a cough due to how dry his throat had become. "Ugh, my throat."
"Just drink more," Miles said, offering the cup again. "Dry mouth is a common symptom of painkillers, they have you on the good stuff."
"Great," deadpanned Waylon, accepting the cup and taking another long drink of water. "I thought you were cute."
"Drunk, sitting on the ledge, and you found that cute…"
"Mmmhmm. Very," said Waylon, his one eye managed to look mischievous even with the bandage over his face. "You reeked. I think you got more of the last bottle on you than in you."
"Just sounding more and more attractive. I get it, you have seen my worst, and what, now I am seeing your worst?"
"I didn't think you were going to jump," said Waylon.
"I wasn't thinking at all…"
"I did think you were going to fall. You were swaying really bad."
"I'm lucky you found me," said Miles. His voice was quiet and gray eyes gazing at his friend's face. "You saved my life. I'm trying to return the favor."
"It sure was easy to save your life," said Waylon. "Just offered you some food and pulled you back to the other side of the safety rail."
"You order your pad thai too spicy. It hurt even worse coming back up the next morning," said Miles, causing Waylon to laugh weakly. "I know I puked all over your bathroom. You never mentioned it."
"It was horrible," Waylon said, snorting with laughter. "I just did not think ridiculing a suicidal guy was the best action. Especially when you woke up so hung over. I felt so sorry for you."
"A relationship built on pity…" Miles said, rolling his eyes. "What a mess."
"I still fell for you. You were such a loyal boyfriend to Chris. You moved across the country and started up some jobs just to keep yourself living here and fighting for him," said Waylon, pausing to take another sip of his water. "I felt like such a bad person. I wanted you to give up, to move on, to consider…other options. And then that day when you were thrown out of the asylum, and the restraining order and you…kissed me."
"I remember," muttered Miles. Chris did not even recognize him anymore. All of his questions were leading nowhere. The frustration finally bubbled over in the form of Miles punching a security guard and earning a restraining order. Waylon had been there, waiting in the Jeep. He had started accompanying Miles on all of his trips, and Miles enjoyed having him there. As soon as security deposited him on the ground outside, Waylon was at his side, and Miles grabbed him and kissed him hard. "That was the day I gave up ever having a real life with Chris. He's not a factor anymore."
"Yeah, but that was also the day I decided I was in love with you. I'm not inexperienced or anything, but I would never make a," Waylon paused, licked his lips and dropped his voice to a whisper, "…a sex tape…with just anyone."
"I memorized every second of it. Did you watch it?"
"Eddie did."
"But why would…" Miles felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as he absorbed what Waylon had said. Waylon stared at the hospital blankets with a tiny frown on his face. Miles re-examined every visible bruise, the places where the gauze bandages were discolored, and flesh colored bandage wrapping up his ankle. "Waylon, I'm so…"
"Stop. It was a stupid thing to do but...It's not your fault. Eddie has anger issues, but he's working on them. I should have checked my email sooner and then it wouldn't have happened. He's been having a rough time this month because of medication issues, but his doctor…"
"Leave him," said Miles, pulling a chair up next to the bed so he could sit level with Waylon. He carefully took Waylon's hand between his, mindful of the IV tubing. "Please, let this be the last time. I'm horrified, Park." Miles squeezed Waylon's hand gently, though it still made his friend wince slightly. "Please."
Waylon gave a mirthless chuckle. "I'm lucky to have Eddie. No one else would put up with someone as…boring, and clumsy, and forgetful as me. I don't have any real talents or something great to bring to a relationship. Eddie is funny, and charming, he has lots of friends, and he's successful at his business and can support me so…"
"What the hell are you even talking about right now? Eddie is a goddamn asshole that hits you and breaks your bones," said Miles, nostrils flaring as he struggled to contain his anger.
"No, the break is a tiny fracture, I won't even need a cast. And it wasn't Eddie, well, not directly, apparently it was hurt the last time he left and slammed the door on it, but I made it worse by not staying off of it. It's my fault…"
"Would you please stop," said Miles, scooting his chair even closer so he could bring his face closer to Waylon's. "I don't know what kind of shit Eddie is feeding you, but you are none of those things. You are the most selfless, thoughtful person I know. You're hilarious when we go out, everyone from your work adores you, I keep all your drunk texts-they're gold. You put yourself out there for your friends, way above and beyond. Shit, you drag strangers into your house and force feed them pad thai."
Waylon stared where Miles held his hand, refusing to meet his eyes. He brought Waylon's hand up to his lips slowly to avoid aggravating any injuries. Miles pushed his lips gently to freshly scraped knuckles. "You saved me back then. I owe you everything. And now you're here and I can't do anything to save you. Eddie's not good for you. He's not good for anyone. He's a brute." Waylon opened his mouth but Miles refused to give up the floor. "No, he is. You know it. You're smart Waylon, I don't know why you're being so dense about this. Just let me help you."
"Okay," Waylon said quietly, still not looking up.
"Yeah? Really? You'll let me help you? We can keep you away from him. If he can't get his act together, he's got to go. You can't keep going to the hospital or getting black eyes. Where is he anyways?"
"He dropped me off at the hospital. I think he's done with me," said Waylon, his voice cracking slightly.
"Good," said Miles, squeezing his friend's hand and drawing out a hiss. "Sorry. But good. You should move on from that asshole. You deserve someone better, someone who would really treasure you and everything you bring to a relationship. You're the best friend a guy can have, and you're really cute, and damn sexy. Fuck, you were my favorite pornstar these past months, and…"
Miles was cut off from his rambling about all of Waylon's high points when his friend's tender lips met his own. Miles froze, not moving, afraid of hurting Waylon's sore face but also afraid because…
"I'm dating someone," said Miles as soon as Waylon pulled away. Visions of Billy naked in bed sprung to mind, as well as a twisting fear of what the Walrider might do if anything tried to come between Miles and Billy. "It's complicated, and new, but I need…" Waylon kissed him again, more insisting, grunting when his sore face pressed into Miles'.
Waylon took Miles' face between his hands and kissed him, soft, gentle caresses of sore lips. The contact broke for just a moment as Waylon sniffed and then resumed feather light kisses along Miles' lips. A tear tickled Miles' skin as it fell down Waylon's cheek. There was something so sad about the kiss, and Miles felt helpless to stop his friend without hurting him. If he could really, finally be with Waylon, he could give him everything he deserved. But, Billy…
A knock on the door caused Waylon to pull away, sniffling and wiping his face as he turned to see the nurse.
"Hi, I'm Cheri, the nurse today. You're awake, how are you feeling?"
Miles made himself sparse, hiding in the corner of the tiny hospital room. He glanced at Waylon, green eye ringed with red in addition to the dusky bruising. Why did they always have the absolute worst timing? He had wanted Waylon for so long. It felt like his brain and heart were at complete odds with what to say and do. He had to tell Waylon about Billy and his growing feelings. He needed to be open. They needed better communication—no more missed connections.
The nurse was finishing up with a blood pressure reading, and Miles inched closer to the bed. He wasn't sure exactly what to do yet. He wanted to kiss Waylon again.
"Alright, we're just going to borrow him for a moment to get another x-ray, and some blood draws, before the doctor comes back up," said Cheri. She had to assist Waylon into a wheelchair. He seemed weak and pained, but he made it into the seat. Cheri had to do something with the IV to disconnect Waylon without removing the needle from his hand. "Okay, we'll be back shortly."
The nurse's perky attitude seemed vastly out of place considering the atmosphere in the room. Green eyes stared into gray from across the room and Miles thought about asking for another minute alone. Everything they had left unsaid for too long was suddenly too much of a burden to shoulder for even another second.
"I'll be here, Park," said Miles, giving a half smile that made Waylon smile in return. "Good luck on your tests."
"I studied all night," said Waylon, grinning. It felt good to make light of the heavy situation. Miles stared as his friend was wheeled out of the room.
He picked up his phone and dialed Billy's number. He pulled back the curtain and stared at the morning light, frowning impatiently as he listened to the ringing.
"Hello?" came a voice thick with sleep.
"Hey kid," said Miles, listening carefully to the quick shuffling on the other side of the phone. He could only imagine Billy sitting up in bed immediately alert at the sound of his voice.
"Miles," said Billy, his voice alone making Miles feel warm. "Is everything alright?"
"Yeah. Nothing life threatening. He was asleep when I got here so I worried all night, but he's up and getting more x-rays or something. Uh, basically an ankle thing and a fracture in his face but it's in the middle so apparently it's just swelling and soreness, no surgery needed. They hope. I guess the x-rays will tell."
"That just sounds awful," said Billy, his tone falling just short from sounding like sincere concern.
"I'm calling because I miss you," said Miles. "I don't know what's going on yet. If he gets released today, I might need to help him at his home for a while, and then…"
"You should bring him here. I could help you watch him. I'm already up at all hours of the night…" said Billy, words picking up speed as he thought up the plan.
"That's sweet that you'd consider it. It's really up to him though. I'll offer," said Miles.
"Okay…" said Billy, sounding dejected.
"I know this is bad timing, and there's history, and everything, but if you were here I would…" Miles' words trailed off as he stared in wide-eyed horror, "…I gotta call you back." Miles ended the call and stood waiting inside the room watching through the open door as Eddie Gluskin checked in at the nurse's station carrying a bouquet of flowers and dressed up for some formal affair.
Miles clenched his fists as he waited just out of sight inside of the room. He waited until Eddie was fully in the hospital room before stepping forward.
"What the fuck are you doing here," growled Miles, glaring up at Eddie. His vivid blue eyes quickly honed in on Miles and he squared his shoulders.
"Are you really this obtuse? Waylon had told you, time and time again, that he's not interested in anything with you. He needs me, and I need him," said Eddie, holding the flowers up to his chest and putting on a sincere face the way others might put on a hat. It was something he could put on and take off at will. "Please, consider your friend's happiness, and stop this sad display of misguided affection…"
Miles' fist connected with Eddie's jaw. Too late Eddie seemed to anticipate the movement and moved to block the blow, but Miles managed to connect his knuckles to Eddie's square jaw with a sick thud. Miles hissed in pain staring at his hand and shaking out his fingers. "Fuck, what is your face made out of…" he said, wincing. He glanced up and saw the murderous glare on Eddie's face a moment too late. "Uh oh-oof!"
The last part turned into a loud exhale as Eddie's fist connected with Miles' stomach, repeatedly. He attempted to push away from the larger man but it was like shoving a brick wall—Eddie wouldn't budge. Finally, Eddie released Miles and he stumbled backwards into a tray of medical equipment that was sitting on the edge of the counter, sending a shower of miscellaneous medical paraphernalia flying. He caught hold of an unused IV stand in an effort to keep himself up, but it gave out under his weight sending them both crashing to the ground.
Miles struggled to regain his breath, groaning at the soreness in his ribs and abdominals. "What the fuck is your problem, Gluskin?!"
"You hit me first, darling," said Eddie.
"Don't you dare fucking call me that," howled Miles as he jumped up and charged Eddie. He was easily deflected and barely caught himself before he face-planted into the wall. He turned to glare defiantly at Eddie but met a strong backhand instead, which caused fuzzy black spots to swim over his vision for a moment. He put his hands on his knees and doubled over, panting for air. He made a huge show of looking defeated, before grabbing the fallen IV stand and swinging it at Eddie like some kind of club.
The metal stand struck Eddie across the chest and sent him stumbling into a security officer. Miles could see a crowd around the nurse's station. Their altercation had been rather loud. Miles stood breathing heavily and glaring at Eddie as he regained his balance.
"I need you both to stop this right now, and come with me, do you hear me?" asked the security guard.
"Of course," said Eddie, "I apologize. My friend and I were just…"
Miles socked Eddie in the face again, cutting his sentence short. Miles already sore fist cracked against the fleshy part of Eddie's cheek. He turned a shocked expression on Miles before glaring again.
"That's it you little shit…"
Miles yelped as Eddie launched at him and quickly maneuvered him into an unprofessional type of headlock. Impossibly tight arm muscles constricted around Miles' body. He tried punching at Eddie's body, kicking at his legs, and finally prying the arms away as his own lungs demanded air. The arms finally unlocked and Miles sucked down huge breaths of air. He looked up, unsteady on his feet, and watched Eddie get handcuffed and pulled out of the room by two officers. He stopped fighting, holding up his hands in surrender.
"That's right, ASSHOLE," screamed Miles the second before his own wrist was grabbed and he felt the cold pinch of handcuffs. "Ah wait, what? He started it!"
"That's not what the nurses said," said the security officer, a young man probably fresh out of training. Miles knew it was pointless to fight and would only get him in even deeper trouble. He had no choice but to follow the men downstairs. He took one last look inside Waylon's room and saw the flowers, torn and littering the floor along with medical supplies. He followed the officers, feeling ashamed and angry at himself.
Eddie wanted nothing to do with the police. He refused to file any charges against Miles and called his friends who quickly bailed him out. There was a five hour holding period set up for Miles. His bail was set, but he had no friends to bail him out, and didn't feel like getting involved with a bond company for such a short sentence. He prepared for a long, sad wait in the county jail with the other minor offenders. He had never made it past the initial holding cell in the past, and was morbidly curious about what an overnight stay in county jail would be like. He was staring at the wall, counting the cinder blocks, when one of the guards called his name.
Miles stood up, and walked to the bars, keeping his head down and mustering his best manners. "Yes, Officer, that's me."
"Made bail," said the officer, preparing to open the cell. Miles smiled in relief before his face slowly turned into a mask of confusion.
"Wait. Who?"
It was almost an hour before Miles had his belongings back and was completely signed and allowed to walk out of the county jail. He wondered if Waylon had managed to come through, despite his injuries? Maybe Eddie, in some strange way, wanted to make it right? He did not have to wonder for long.
"Mr. Upshur," came a voice in the parking lot. A shiny black Mercedes with dark tinted glass had one window rolled down, revealing the face of none other than…
"Jer! Fancy meeting you here," said Miles, walking casually over to the car. "What did they get you for? No wait, let me guess…soliciting a sex worker? Public urination? You got within one hundred and fifty feet of a school…"
"Clever, as always, Mr. Upshur. No, I thought it would be a nice way to thank you for all you've done for me and the company," said Jeremy.
"Oh, you're welcome. I'm working on an even worse piece that's really going to get you guys some publicity. You should be excited," said Miles.
"Yes, you mentioned. Which was why we decided to take a closer look at what exactly you were blathering on about," said Jeremy, giving a humorless chuckle. "Yes, this was really the least we could do considering it's thanks to you that Billy Hope has finally come home—where he belongs."