Hospital for the Exceptionals

Five.

The head nurse- a dark, mysterious, short man by the name of Jace- is hunched at his desk, reading over files when we burst through the door with Sam's alcohol-poisoned body. Sadly, he's not surprised to see us.
"Him again?" Jace exhales with exasperation.
Ms. K nods. "The infirmary is too far, so I figured we better come here instead. Drank a little too much. Do you believe you can get him back to whatever normal counts for him?"
"Probably." He stretches his arms behind his small head. "Alright. Let's get down to business. Set him on the floor," he commands without looking at me.
I mentally drop the platform I have attached to his body and he falls to the floor with a noisy thud. Ms. K and nurse Jace both give me a look.
"Sorry," I mutter. But I still give myself a pat on the back internally for carrying him all this way with only a few flaws.
Jace removes a vile from his pocket. It's miniature and filled with a clear liquid that I'm guessing is water. He uncaps it, and the liquid magically takes flight, twisting a few feet above the ground like an airborne snake. Then, it suddenly shoots down Sam's throat, and Jace drops his hand. Ms. K and I watch intently.
"What it's doing," he explained, "is kind of like a hemodialysis.. It's moving through the body via blood vessels and collecting toxins and alcohol as it goes. It can only bond with so much of these, however, so his body will have to do the rest of the cleansing overnight. Someone will have to keep a close eye on him because he's unconscious and so young, just in case anything happens, but unless something does, he should make a full recovery."
"What is it?" I point, curiosity getting the best of me.
Jace stares me straight in the eyes, seeming taken aback that I had the guts to speak. His eyes are a clear amber.
"The liquid?" He questions, motioning to the vile. I hesitate, then nod. He continues to speak. "Pure magic and some serotonin from a chicken. Would you have ever thought science and the supernatural would ever work so well together?"
Before I can answer, floating out of Sam's mouth, rushed an inverse waterfall of a sparkly maple colored liquid. It appears intriguing and revolting at the same time, like those ER shows where you have to watch someone go under the knife to remove an object that they'd been impaled by. With a faint wave of Jace's hand, it soars over to the sink and disappears down the drain. Already, Sam looks less blue, pale, and weak, but it's obvious he's not going to wake for at least several hours. I think back to what he mumbled before he blacked out. Something about Luther and forgetting her or whatever else. What caused him to drink so much? Or did he not know when to stop? Maybe he didn't want to stop.
"I have to stay in my office and continue finishing up some important documents, but he needs to get to the infirmary ASAP, so they can hook him up to some fluids. Do you mind taking him there for me?"
"It won't be a problem, nurse," Ms. K interjects. "Thank you for your help, see you around."
"Just doin' my job. Have a good night."
"We can discuss your punishment on the way over," she says to me under her breath once the nurse has turned away. "Can you carry him again?"
"I can try," I doubtfully reply. "I'm very tired. That last one took a lot out of me."
"Do your best. It's okay if you can't make it there, I'm sure we can get help along the way."
~||~
I carried Sam about half way there (it was a pretty bumpy trip, I lost control of him a few times) before I dropped him and couldn't pick him up anymore. Now, with the help of a few staff members, Ms. K and I are rushing his limp body down the hall. When we get there, it's about eight pm.
"Thank you all for your help," Ms. K praises as they rest him on a bed in the infirmary. The staff echoes some words and leaves, probably to retreat to their rooms for the night. That leaves me, a nurse hooking up an IV, Ms. K, and an unconscious Sam.
"I've been thinking," the teacher says, retiring a wrinkled hand on the edge of the bed. "I understand why you retaliated like that. You were scared, weren't you?"
"I was dying," I respond without exaggerating.
"Sunday wasn't going to kill you, Casey. Her powers aren't that strong. The worst she could do is knock you out for a few days. Still.. You probably didn't know any better, but you did cause her a head injury.. Hm." Her gaze flits from me, to the strange bed, and back to me again. "Your penalty is monitoring him for the rest of the night. The nurse is pretty tired, and I think she could use the load off of one of her patients," she declares.
I stare at her, confused. "What about sleep?"
"Sleep," she drones, tasting the word, "with both eyes open."
She and the nurse exit the room, and only Sam and I remain.
I reach for my phone, but then regretfully remember they took it, and begin to twist my bracelet instead. I don't want to be here. When your only company's asleep, thoughts replace them uninvited. So instead, I focus on the sleeping boy. He isn't really attractive, but he's sort of.. Cute, in a crooked way. Short, shaggy hair that is more auburn than red in the dim light. Eyebrows that are  surprisingly thick for their light color. Pink lips that part just slightly when he sleeps. He'd be fun to draw, I suddenly think. I used to draw a little, back home, because it would ease the stress. But I was only ever good at it when I drew something more than once. I had practice that way, and a plan. I exhale, knowing nothing good can come from thinking of that house, and look around the room.
Next to Sam's bed is a ledge jutting out of the wall. It has a sink, a pen, a clipboard, paper towels, and a needle disposer. The pen and clipboard are all that I need. I run over and grab them really quickly, then sit back down on the edge of the bed. Sam's information is on the clipboard, but the back is blank, so I turn the piece of paper around and start there.
Lines and curves erupt from the pen's tip, crossing over and blending together like ingredients to a pie. It doesn't look perfect to start out with- rather abstract- but I've just begun, and it's harsh to judge something when it's not even finished yet.
I draw every little detail my eyes can drink in- all his little eyelashes down to the creases in his blanket. I draw for hours, until it hurts, until the picture is the loudest thing in the room. When I'm done, it's almost one in the morning.
I'm exhausted. I guess the patients here don't get many visitors, because  I can't find any chairs nearby, from what I can see Which isn't much, by the way. The only light source now is coming from the window, which is spilling out just enough moonlight so I can see the blue outline of things. The only space I could sleep on is either the floor.. Or next to Sam.
I'll admit- it would be extremely awkward for him to wake up before me and find a). a portrait of him sleeping on the end of the bed and b). a boy he doesn't know sharing the bed with him. But the floor is cold and hard, and he owes me for carrying him all this way and watching over him all night, and what better way to thank me than now? Move over, alcohol boy.
Despite the fact that I'm overweight, I fit in nicely, and we share the space evenly. Soon enough, I'm out like a light, and I fall into a very strange dream.