Problems

|| Chapter 31 ||

We're nearing the end here, guys. I'm excited for your reactions.

CW: hospitals, psychiatric ward, panic attacks

It's the beeping that comes first.

Dim at the beginning, then louder and louder, burrowing its way into his brain, into the cozy cocoon that Alex had tucked himself away in.

Spots of color burst in his vision, though through the fog clouding his brain he knew that his eyes were closed. Streaks of yellow and red burst across the blackness, and he squeezed his eyes tighter. He wanted to go back to sleep, hide in the comforting blackness and the warm embrace of blankets.

The beeping was growing louder, and with it, the hum of machines around him. He slowly became aware of an IV leading into the top of his hand, a stinging sensation that he couldn't ignore. And sheets that scratched against his arms, the thin pillow his head rested on.

Memories came trickling in, slowly, then with the force of a dam breaking.

Pills. A bottle of vodka. Smashing John's razor. Laying on the floor, the ceiling spinning above him.

He was in the hospital.

And it didn't work.

He opened his eyes, blinking away the spots. The room was dim. Machines hummed around him. An oxygen cannula was laced across his nose.

I can't even fucking kill myself.

A small sob slipped out of his mouth. Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes, dripping down and soaking into the pillowcase.

I can't even fucking kill myself.

Someone shifted off to his left, and Alex turned his head. John was sitting in a chair next to the hospital bed, tangled in a blanket, his head lolling back against his shoulder. He blinked, eyes fluttering, and slowly lifted his head, squinting in the darkness. His eyes roamed the room, darting over the heart monitor, the IV drip, and landing on Alex.

They widened immediately, and he sat up, the blanket falling off of his shoulder and puddling in his lap.

"Alex!"

John hit the call button on the side of the bed, and Alex heard a distant ding in the hallway.

The tears were coming faster now, shaking his body. John grasped his hand tightly like it was a lifeline, and the beeping grew faster as Alex sobbed. He tried to talk, to get words out, but his voice didn't want to work.

"Hey," John swiped a tear from his face, his own voice wobbly. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay."

The door opened and a nurse ducked her head into the room. Her eyebrows shot up as she took in the scene. "I'll get Dr. Mitchells."

Alex opened his mouth. "I'm- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry-" his voice was crackly, as though it hadn't been used in a long time, and John kept brushing away the tears that streamed from his eyes.

"I didn't- I didn't mean to-" he gasped around the words, and John just shook his head, his own tears welling up.

"It's okay. It's okay, sweetheart. It's gonna be okay."

A doctor pushed the door open, a clipboard in his hand. He took in the scene- sobbing Alex, equally distressed John, and a heart monitor that was going crazy.

As he stepped into the room, a flurry of nurses followed him, each moving around the pair of boys and checking monitors, detaching wires and tubes and adjusting the oxygen levels.

The doctor stayed at the end of the bed, face passive. Alex turned to him, eyes still glistening.

"Hello, Alexander. I'm Doctor Mitchells. Do you remember me?"