Silver (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 17

Blaire’s POV



“LET— “


Kick.


“ME— “


Kick.


“IN!”


With one final kick, I managed to nail the security guard guy in the balls, and I ran off, fleeing into the hospital.


“IS GRAYSON VON REUBEN ALIVE?! ANYONE?! YELLOOOOO?!” I yodeled, screaming at the top of my lungs.


“Shhh!” A nurse put her finger up to her lips, staring at me. “Are you okay, little boy?”


“I’m not little!” I screamed, stomping my foot. “I’m seventeen! Is Grayson Von Reuben alive?!”


“Can you describe to me what he’s like?” she asked, and I hiccupped, wiping my tears away. Stupid bitch.


“He’s seventeen he has dark brown hair he has a colored streak down the middle he has pretty eyes he’s deersexual he once raped a dead deer and he got called ‘daddy’ by librarian— “ I stopped once I noticed the expression she wore on her face once I got to my Grayson baby raping a dead deer.


“Have you checked the psychotic ward, dear?”


“He’s not mental! He’s just deersexual!” I yell in frustration. “He’s depressed! He might’ve tried to commit suicide by falling off a tree and he looked really dead and he seriously made me faint and right that librarian thing I’m not saying that Grayson was the librarian’s daddy I think that would be a little wrong since she’s so old and – “


“Carter!” She yelled, before holding a hand to her forehead. “Take care of this boy, please.” She then went behind the counter and took two aspirin, holding her head in her hands.


Pssh. Nurses aren’t supposed to get headaches! They’re supposed to fall in love with the doctor and have an affair with him, hiding the affair from his wife, and they’re supposed to accidentally get her pregnant and—


“Hi, I’m Carter,” a tall, skinny man came out of the back room, smiling at me in his blue doctor scrubs. “Who’re you?”


“Blaire.” I looked up at him. He had a crew cut and a ski slope nose, and I could see his little brown nose hairs wiggling as he breathed.


“Just Blaire?” He asked, and I nodded, sniffling. He handed me a tissue and turned away when I blew my nose.


Well, he’s nice.


“What’s your last name, sonny?” He asked, leading me to a plush bench off to the side, patting the area besides him. I sat down besides him and shrugged.


“I dunno. I’m in a foster home.”


“I’m sorry, dear.” He smiled sorrowfully and took out a lollipop from his pocket, handing it to me. ‘On the other hand, I heard what you were saying to Sheila,” he gestured to the nurse with her head still in her hands. “You’re a funny kid.”


“Really?” I beamed, sitting up straighter. “Thank you! But I’m not trying to be funny! Grayson really is deersexual and the nurse called him ‘daddy’ because I was being disruptive and even in Starbucks people thought I was his son even if we were both seventeen I mean—“


“Relax, Blaire. Breathe,” Carter chuckled, running his hand through his spiky brown hair. “So who are you looking for? Grayson?”


“Yeah! I think he fell off a tree and didn’t even bother saving himself because he was really sad and somewhat suicidal because nobody really liked him and appreciated him except for me and I kind of led him on because I let him kiss me and—“


“Wait. Start over.” Carter raised his eyebrows. “From the beginning.”


So I told this Carter guy everything. About how Grayson would make things for everyone and fix things up, and that stupid job in a porn theater where I embarrassed him and how I lost him money and how he bought me the world and…


Oh god.


I started sobbing hysterically into Carter’s shoulder, and he held me tight, grabbing a box of tissues from the table besides him, not caring that Mariah Carey’s cover on InStyle was now face-down on the ground.


“Shhh. Don’t worry, we’ll save him,” he whispered, handing me a Kleenex. I blew my nose loudly and he took the tissue from me, not caring that I had snot all over him.


“But…but…but I kissed him and everything and I led him on and I still feel really baaaaaaaaad!” I wailed, noticing that I was now on Carter’s lap. He held me in a fatherly way; a comfortable way, not in a pedophilic way. Someone who was comforting.


“You can sort out your feelings for Grayson AFTER we save him. I think he’s in the pulmonary ward of the hospital. He’s the one with the silver streak in the middle of his hair, right?”


Silver?


“Uh, sure. He’s…he’s colorblind,” I admitted, “and he said that the only color he could see was silver. In my eyes.”


Carter had a soft smile on his lips as he carried me like a little boy, walking over to the big door. I wrapped my arms around his neck like a little kid again and marveled at all the shiny tools as he laughed to himself.


“Grayson must really like you.”


“But I let him down. I even agreed to go to the dance with Justyduck.”


“’Scuse me?” Carter said, chuckling. “What?”


“Justin. Grayson hates him. But then again, everyone hates Grayson, and Grayson hates everyone.”


Carter nodded after a while, taking me to the pulmonary ward. “I was like that, too. I thought it was me against the world, until I found my boyfriend—“


“WHAT OH MY LORD YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND WHY DID YOU JUST MENTION IT NOW WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM?!”  I shrieked, right before Carter shushed me with his hand.


“Shhh. Don’t wake the surgeon—“


“EWWW ICKY WALK FASTER!”


Carter sped out of there before I could cause a bigger disruption, and he led me down to a row of silver doors.


“His name is James,” he said dreamily, jiggling me up and down like a baby. “He’s so wonderful.”


“Where is he now? Is he at home?”


“He’s…” Carter trailed off. “He’s…oh, look, this is Grayson’s room!”


I leapt off of Carter’s neck and burst into the room, and nearly had a heart attack as I looked at what was in front of me.


Grayson was laying there on a…death bed, I suppose, with blue tubes and red tubes and a tube up his…oh god…


He was so pale. Just laying there, with a heart monitor next to him, beeping away unevenly. His chest was covered in bruises where the tubes inserted his body, and his eyelids were almost translucent.


“Is…he okay?”


What was I saying? Was I blind? Could I not see the pale, bruised guy in front of me?


I started to cry again, and Carter tried to keep me quiet, holding his fingers up to his lips. “He’s got pneumonia from the lake water and a bunch of other symptoms. Let him rest.”


“But…but…” I blubbered, a mess of snot and tears as Carter hushed me, wiping my face. “He’ll…he’ll live, right?”


“Ah…”


I started wailing even louder, and Carter had to carry me out of there before I jumped on Grayson. “Caaaaaaaarter!”


“Shhh!” He hissed. “I’m not supposed to bring you in there!”


“Bu…but…”


“Shhh.” He deposited me outside on the plush bench again and sat with me as I folded up my feet under me, curling into a tiny ball. “Don’t worry. I don’t think he’ll die.”


“That’s the worst thing you can say to someone!” I wailed, kicking the bench. “Stop!”


“I’m sorry.” Carter grew quiet and folded his hands, staring at the floor. “Sorry.”


I stopped to think about what I had just said, then stopped crying long enough to look up at Carter. “Were you a Grayson before?”


“Excuse me?”


“I…nevermind.”


Carter studied me for a second, then got up. “Alright.”


“Alright what? Aren’t you going to stay with me?”


Carter began to walk away, putting his hands in his pockets. “Carter?”


“Sorry, kid. You’re on your own now.”


Carter was definitely a Grayson. And I had just hurt him.


“I’m sorry.”


But he was gone.


Now I felt bad. With the added guilt on me, I couldn’t think anymore.


The others were in a hotel down the road, and technically, I wasn’t even supposed to be here. It was 3 in the morning, and I had snuck out.


I’m surprised that the hospital hasn’t kicked me out yet. But I did knee the security guard  in the balls, and I’m pretty sure that I’d be kicked out if it wasn’t for Blaire’s amazing knee-the-guy-in-the-nuts technique.


Carter came back out with a coffee cup in his hands, and he walked past me without another glance. “Carter, wait.”


He sighed. “What?”


“I’m sorry. You were just trying to help.” I put my fingers in my mouth, and Carter immediately swatted them out.


“This is a hospital. I don’t want you to get sick,” he hissed.


“Can you stay with me?”


“What about your foster mother?”


I shrugged.  “Blaire, you’re out past curfew, even if you’re in a hospital. You’re technically not supposed to be here.”


“Pleaaaaase,” I begged, my nailbeds looking very tempting. “I’m staying here all night, no matter how long it takes me.”


Carter looked at me with such a scornful look, I had to look away.


“Fine.”


He sat down next to me, and I instinctively curled up next to him. He petted my hair down and stared at the mute TV in the brightly lit fluorescent waiting room, watching two sweaty men play football.


Ooooh…Blaire likey…



“Where’s your boyfriend?” I piped up. “Does he get lonely when you’re here all night?”


“Erm…he’s…” Carter trailed off. “He’s in Iraq.”


“Oh.”


Oh.


Oh.


“I’m sorry.”


“It’s fine. He gets back next week, though. If…if he can get through this week.”


Carter was in fear of someone else’s life too. It really wasn’t just me. Maybe he understood why I had to stay in this stupid goddamn hospital room all night.


“He’ll get back safe. I promise.”


“And Grayson will live.”


“Promise?”


Carter looked at me with sad eyes. “I don’t make empty promises. I’m sorry, Blaire.”


“It’s…it’s fiiiiiiine!” I bawled. “I’m fiiiiine!”


“Shhh. Just sleep.”


“Nooooooo…”


“I promise I’ll wake you up,” Carter stuck his pinky up. “Promise.”


I stared at his long, smooth finger. “Promise me you’ll wake me up when you receive news?” I hiccupped, and Carter merely nodded.


“Trust me, Blaire.”


I hesitantly took his pinky and shook it.


“Okay.”






Grayson’s POV




I know I’m not dead yet. I know I’m not dead, because whenever I breathe, I can feel my chest contract painfully from all the tubes inside of me.


I know I’m not dead yet because I can hear people talking about me, talking about why I’m in there in the first place. I know I’m not dead because when they shock me with the paddles when my heart monitor almost stops beeping, I fly three feet into the air, bound by electricity.


I know I’m not dead because I can feel the scorching pain swirl around my insides. The way that a fire seems to be burning in my lungs.


And I definitely know I’m not dead when I can hear a very faint voice, later on, asking if I was going to be okay or not. That very familiar voice, once beautiful, now choked with sobs and ugly snorts. Not that I’m complaining though— at least I can hear Blaire.


I wish I could just wake up and explain everything to Blaire, explain what happened, but I can’t move. All I can do is lay there, and hope that I don’t die before I can tell Blaire that I’m sorry. 



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Le apologize for bad chapter, kind of in a rush, didn't get to edit, really sorry :c