Wilting Flowers

21: Plummet

Tw: Panic Attack/Self harm/Alcoholism/Suicide

Reader Discretion Advised

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The hospital's large waiting room smelled of sanitizing chemicals and blood. The harsh overhead lights made Grim's eyes hurt.

He'd only been in a hospital once, that he remembered. He dislocated a knee at five years old, and his father panicked. Even though he hated hospitals, he got Grim to the ER immediately. Grim hadn't understood his reaction at the time- the look in his eyes, his gasping breath. Later, he was no stranger to it. His father had a panic attack.

Even after he'd realized, it took him a bit to figure out why.

When his mother got sick while pregnant with him, his father was sure she would be okay. After all, the hospital was more than capable of handling it.

Mortality is unpredictable. It's terrifying.

His mother died in that hospital.

Now, with the clock ticking away, one hour, forty-two minutes and sixteen seconds since the doctors put Immy under anesthesia, Grim could feel his father's terror. He was on the edge of a cliff, growing closer and closer- Grim felt as though counting was his only lifeline.

He hadn't taken his eyes off the clock much. Gabriel was beside him on the big leather couch, and Grim knew he should probably say something. He didn't particularly care.

He put all of his terror into counting the time. He hadn't realized how much his physical state had changed until Gabriel finally spoke.

"Dude- I'm sorry, but you need to snap the fuck out of it. Look at your hands," He uttered.

The words startled Grim. He looked Gabriel in the eyes for the first time since he'd hastily taken off his roller skates. His deep brown eyes were wide, his brows knitted together. Grim looked to his lap, as he asked.

The fabric of his jeans was balled up into his fists, his grip so tight that his hands were shaking violently. He released them and his hands immediately cramped. He winced.

"You've been zoned out since we got here- please say something."

Grim paused, thinking.

"...I don't like hospitals," He breathed.

Gabriel sighed, his shoulders relaxing a little.

"Yeah, I can tell," He murmured back. His voice was smooth, comforting. He was cooing as if he was talking to a child. "Here." He handed him a plastic cup full of water.

Grim held it for a moment, just to cool his hands. Eventually, he put the cup to his lips and let the cold water soothe his throat. He set it down and looked back at Gabriel.

"We don't have to talk." Gabriel smiled reassuringly. "I just want you out of your head for a while."

He looked at the TV in the corner of the room. It was playing Spongebob Squarepants, something about house painting? Grim couldn't really focus on it, now that he had been snapped out of his trance. It was now apparent that Grim had no clue how Immy was.

He flew into possibilities. What if they dosed her with too little anesthesia? What if they gave her too much? What if the doctor cheated their way through med school and doesn't give two shits about their patients? Immy's a mortal. Do they know? They have to, they have her special case card- they could kill her. Oh my god- but they're professionals- what if I assume something and end up killing her myself? That's realistically more likely, if I'm holding her- wait, they're doing surgery on her left arm. It's bleeding. It's been four years- oh god, it's been four years-