Fixing Nico [boyxboy / yaoi]

Ch 21 - Waking Up

~NICO~

Ow…

My eyes fluttered dizzily, a hazy blur of flickering fluorescent lights shone overhead… Was this what death was like? I hate fluorescents. Huh… Maybe I'd ended up in Hell after all.

Homophobic asshole, I grumbled inwardly, who knew God really payed attention to all that crap?

I struggled against the heavy thickness that had seemingly glued my eyelids together, groaning slightly as a faint din of noise became apparent. Hm. Maybe I wasn't dead after all…

The thought sent a chill of panic down my spine - my eyes flew open, emotions choking, screaming in my throat - Did I… fail?

I blinked - once, twice, eyelids frantically fluttering as I glanced around me, gaping at what I saw… The room I was trapped in was clinical - too-white, too clean, as the putrid reek of bleach and Dettol attacked my nostrils. Dingy mould was pattered across the off-white ceiling as annoying, metallic machines beeped and blipped besides me - a slight itch under my nose alerted me to the an annoying plastic tub that'd been tabled over my top lip, and another faint tickle across my arm revealed an even worse sight: needles were shoved under the skin of the back of my hand, bands of sticky, white tape pulled across my taunt, pale knuckles, as, over both my forearms, thick, white bandages were fastened around my arms.

I've failed.

You can't even kill yourself… what can you do right? My inner cynic sneers. Despondently, I shifted my heavy, tired eyes around and realised one more thing: the room wasn't empty. Three tense, angry figured loomed above my squeaky, uncomfortable metal hospital bed - three figures I recognised. 

The very first person I saw was Andy; he was hovering awkwardly by the doorway, gnawing on his silver-studded lips, his curving black eyebrows, normally graced with a grin, furrowing together darkly. His browny-green eyes were stormy, troubled and filled with a glinting rage. I'd never seen him look so angry, before, or so… hurt. I bit my lip softly, guilt flooding my weak body.

Was this my fault?

The next sudden sound I heard made me jump - a snarl ripped through the throat of a figure as she crouched before the row of too-shiny pastil chairs that lined my bedside. Blinking rapidly, I realised that the flowing, ebony hair and fiery black eyes belonged to… 'Mum?' I heard myself rasp pathetically.

Mum whipped around, the lines of anger instantly disappearing from her pale face, replaced by something else - something worse. She gaped at me with a look of absolute horror - of worry, anxiety, of emotions pooling too deeply, too painfully in her gaze. I forced myself to drop my eyes… I couldn't do it. I couldn't look into my Mum's deep, black wells of hurt, regret, pain - not without crying.

What have I done? I thought desperately to myself, my bottom lip beginning to tremble.

'Nico!' she cried, the panic in her voice only thinly veiled by an overtone of relief. 'Oh my god… y-you're awake? How are you feeling? Are you okay?' she breathed, then instantly looked as though she regretted the last question… I gritted my teeth.

Great. I've done it now - a failed suicide attempt, and now they're never leave me alone. A feeling of black, horrible doom washed through me, causing my little body to physically shake. They'll never leave me alone. They'll never let me touch a knife again - they'll put me under suicide watch - they'll time how long I take in the bathroom - they-they-they probably won't even leave me in the house alone! Ever - panic suddenly replaced the dread, the doom - all the feelings mixing around in a hectic swamp of hopelessness.