The Jock, The Nerd and The Geek

26

He ran up the stairs, searching through every room. Everywhere looked completely empty, like a soul hadn't been there in weeks. His fear grew when he thought that she was possibly not in the house before he reached the kitchen and froze.

Alex was laying on the floor in a corner, her phone in her left hand, wearing a pink nightdress and around her head like a halo—

Blood.

There was so much blood.

Marcos rushed to her, raising her head to his laps, the blood coating his hand and clothes but he didn't care as he held her face.

Her skin was cold under his touch, and pale. And when he put his ear to her mouth, she was still breathing, but there were coming out shallow. Low. Barely there.

And beside her, her pill bottle nearly empty.

As soon as he saw it, he remembered bringing out his phone, making a call, the rest of the night happening in a blur.

Paris coming to find them that way, the paramedics coming after, Marcos holding unto her hand as they rushed her to the hospital with Paris beside him, and then waiting in the hall after they rushed her into an emergency room.

He remembered his Mother and Abuela calling and him telling them he was in the hospital, though Maria had panicked, thinking he was the one hurt until he told her who it was.

"Can I— Can I stay?" He hadn't cried yet. He couldn't. Crying meant— Meant she was dead, and she wasn't. He knew she wasn't. "And you don't have to. Paris— Paris is here too."

The male that was standing beside him, resting on a wall looked at him when he mentioned his name though he said nothing as his Mother replied softly, "Of course, both of you, take care of yourself. Your Abuela and I would be praying for her, okay?"

"Okay,"

Marcos wasn't sure what happened next, but the next morning, he felt someone shaking him a a little and when he woke up, Paris was crouched beside him.

Slowly, he sat up, his body protesting from laying on the metal seats, his head hurting as he rubbed his eyes, "Sorry, I shouldn't—"

"It's okay," Paris replied. His voice had lost the bite he usually had. It sounded unguarded. More vulnerable than Marcos had ever heard him sound. "She's awake,"

Whatever sleep was left in his eyes vanished as he stared at him, his voice coming out shaky. "Have— Have you seen her?"

Paris shook his head. He looked tired too, though he seemed more in control of his emotions than Marcos was. But somehow, he knew if he cried right there, Paris would too. "You can go first, after you change your clothes. I brought some of mine for you. Plus, you're the one who knows what really happened when she called."

There was no sound of jealousy, or hate that she didn't call him first. Instead, Paris sounded grateful it wasn't him, and somehow, Marcos understood that. He had been the one to find Andrea, and him finding Alex in that state would have hurt more than anything.

So he did as he asked. He went to the bathroom, washing his hands and then his face before taking off his clothes, changing into a black hoodie and ash sweatpants before going to her room.