Half-past Not Happening

   Jerome dashed into the hospital room, a piece of paper in hand. The hospital was not a place he would normally want to be on a Saturday evening, but today it felt like his only option.

        When he burst through the door he immediately froze, staring at the limp body lying delicately on the hospital bed. He did not want to believe that it was happening, but seeing all the wires hooked to his bleeding friend made it far to lucid that his friend was slowly dying.

        "Mr. Aceti," The doctor said, entering the room after Jerome, "You may take a seat if you'd like." Silently Jerome sat down, not taking his eyes off of the hospital bed.

        Seeing the concern on Jerome's face the doctor quickly said, "He's--uh-- he's just asleep" then scrambled out of the room, leaving Jerome with his dying friend. The way the doctor said it made it seem like he would be awake in just a small amount of time, but it was known that that was not the case.

        Quietly Jerome listened to the unwavering beat of the heart monitor. He looked dolefully down at the piece of paper in his hand and read it for the fifth, sixth, then seventh times.

Dear Biggums,

Just wanted to let you know that I'm going out tonight, and if anything happens I felt like it was time to tell you, I love you. Not loving each other like we always joke about. I do love you like that, but this is different. So I'm sorry if I've been acting strange. I'm sorry if I've been worrying you. i just felt like I should back off because you would never feel the same way. Knowing what's going to happen, I figured now was the time to tell you:

I love you biggums.

-Mitch

       It had been only and hour since Jerome first found the note taped to his computer. At first, he completely dismissed it, thinking Mitch would just be out on a walk. But when the hospital called he immediately understood.

        Jerome crumpled the paper and threw it agains the wall in anguish, tears stinging his eyes. Despite what the doctor said , making it seem okay, it was uncomfortable clear that Mitch would not be "just asleep" for much longer. Mitch's blood staining the sheets made it obvious that he was dying.

        Jerome stared blankly at the fallen wad of paper. He searched frantically through his thoughts to find the uniform beeping of Mitch's monitor.

        "I'm sorry..." Jerome chocked and tried to calm himself. As he spoke the heart monitor slowed gradually, "You could have told me; because, Mitch, I love you, too"

        As Jerome spoke those last words the slow beat stopped completely and turned into one unwavering, ear-piercing noise, telling hime one thing: Mitch time was up.

        Mitch was dead. Jerome would never see his lively eyes or bright smile. There would be no more "Hungerdeens" or "lootskidoodles". Even bashing skulls with Betty would not make him whole again.

        "It's alright." A tender voice said in his ear. Not quite sure what he was expecting, Jerome turned around. Nothing. Not a nurse or doctor trying to comfort him; not one of his friends had, at any point, come in. Still, even though he could not tell whose voice it was, it still sounded distantly familiar in an almost calming way.

        "No, it's not. M-Mitch is gone. Now I don't have the opportunity to tell him--"

        "Jerome, Biggums, I know. It's alright you never told me, I did the same, didn't I?" Now Jerome realized, it was not voices in his head giving him signs that he was mentally unstable; It was Mitch trying to provide the solace Jerome sought.

        A gentle set of arms wrapped their way around his neck in a loving way. The words "I love you" made their way to Jerome's ears. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw Mitch's smiling face next to his own.

        Still, even with Mitch's consolation Jerome cried-- no-- he sobbed. Despite false hopes people would try to give him he was well aware of everything: the shrieking machine by Mitch's corpse, the fact that Mitch was not actually there with him, the fact that Mitch was, in fact, dead with no revive pass.

        Somewhere inside, though, Jerome still hoped that Mitch being there was not his imagination, and seeking any proof he turned to hug Mitch, but there was nothing. The bittersweet illusion was gone, but the melancholy feeling lingered; Jerome knew he had to face the facts.

​The only time he and Mitch could be with each other would be at half-past never.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~