Reflections

Chapter 3-Gabriel

"Hey, dude, wake up," My brother said, shaking my body roughly.

"Go away, Michael. Let me sleep." I groaned, swatting his hands away from my body.

"Dude, you've been sleeping since you got home from sports, Dad wants us downstairs for dinner," Micheal said, and I could practically hear the eye roll in his voice.

"Oh, whatever, Michelle," I retorted, sitting up in my bed. "You're just mad because you can't sleep as beautifully as mwah." I dramatically put my hand on my chest, standing up and off my bed to walk downstairs.

Even walking down, the stairs made me winded, but I paid no mind to it as the delicious scent of dinner filled my nose and I made my way excitedly to the dining room.

"So nice of you to join us, Gabriel." My father said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, yeah, I bet. You're just so thrilled to see me, aren't ya, Dad?" I reply just as sarcastically, my usual smirk or grin pulling into a frown.

"Gabriel, be nice." My younger brother, Castiel, reminded me. He was the baby of the family, but he was also the peacekeeper. He was trusted with each of our secrets, and he just so happened to be my closest brother.

"Whatever." I scoffed under my breath.

"Let us pray." My father said, and I had to resist the urge to groan and roll my eyes. Each of us took each other's hand, and my father closed his eyes, bowing his head, and began to pray. Throughout the prayer, I mocked him. He was a religious asshole; how could I not?

Dinner began as everyone started eating. It was quiet except for the sounds of faint wheezing coming from deep within my chest.

"Are you alright, Gabriel?" Castiel whispered to me. I just brushed him off, telling him I was alright, and that I was probably just coming down with a cold. But he didn't look convinced.

Once dinner was done, everyone was excused to do their own thing.

"Gabriel, can I speak with you for a second?" Castiel said, breaking me from my way up to the stairs.

"Yeah, what's up?" I said, my eyes meeting Castiel's usually emotionless ones; but now they were filled with worry.

"You're getting worse. Your wheezing is louder," he stated the obvious; typical Castiel. "Don't you think it's time to tell Dad about it? Go see a doctor?" Castiel said bluntly, but I could see behind the facade. He was full of emotion that was ready to burst, he was worried about his older brother.

"He won't listen, Castiel. We both know this," I frowned. "I already tried when the symptoms first started."

"Then try again, Gabe." Castiel frowned. "You have gotten significantly worse in the last few months, even. Go to the doctor and get checked out, find out what's happening to you, before it's too late." And maybe Castiel was right. But our father would never listen. He wouldn't even listen when Micheal ran away, not when Lucifer told him over and over again to get his lazy ass up and do something. But no, he didn't care about his missing son, why would he care if his son just had a small case of asthma?

Even though we didn't know what it was, we had our guesses. Nothing too life-threatening, hopefully.

"I'll see what I can do for you. But eventually, you have to talk to him yourself, Gabriel." And with that, Castiel walked away, his trench coat waving behind him as he walked up the stairs and to his room.

I sighed, making my way to our father's office, where he wrote and published books.

"What do you need, Gabriel?" He said from his computer, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"Dad, we need to talk. Like have a serious discussion and all that wonderful jazz," I said, imitating jazz hands as I walked in and sat in a chair that was next to his desk.

"About what?" He mumbled. I could hear his fingers clack on the keys as he continued typing, not looking up at me.

"I need to see a doctor, Dad. Castiel is worried about me, he's shoved me into doing this. What a piece of cake that was, am I right?" I scoffed, rolling my eyes as I leaned into the leather chair.

"Why would you need to see a doctor? You seem fine."

"No, Dad. Maybe if you paid any mind to your kids, you'd be able to see how winded I am 24/7, walking up the stairs breaks me out in a sweat. Not only that, but I wheeze like I've been smoking for 500 years. I cough like I'm hacking up a lung and don't even get me started on everything else." I frown, looking at my father with determination. If Castiel was worried about me, I'd try my damn hardest to get this through to my dad.

"Gabriel, you're fine. You just want the attention," he sighed, looking at from his computer. "If you want the attention so bad, try to do something that's actually noticeable; like slitting your wrist or acting crazy." And with that, he looked back at his computer screen, clacking away.

I stood up from his office chair, walking over to his office door, and slamming it as I walked out.

"What did he just say?" Castiel said, and I jumped.

"Jesus Christ!" I said, putting my hand on my racing heart. My wheezing picked up.

"No, I'm Castiel." He said bluntly, almost confused.

"Cass, never change." I chuckled, a small cough erupting from my throat. Castiel's dull and confused eyes changed to worry.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything? A glass of water?" He suddenly barraged me with questions.

"Cass, I'm fine. Just a little cough." I wheezed. "I'm gunna go lay down," I said, feeling the fatigue rush onto my body like a waterfall.

"Okay, Gabe. You holler for me if you need me, okay?" He said, patting my shoulder.

"Yeah, if I can." I joked, but Castiel didn't find it very funny. He walked away; I could tell his thoughts were all over the place. But from the outside, he looked like normal, emotionless Castiel.

I walked up the stairs, albeit slowly, wheezing hard as I made it to the top. Sweat broke out on my forehead, but I pushed myself up and off of the railing to make my way to my room.

Once into my room, I flop down on my bed, letting the soft mattress sink under my weight.

I felt my heart hammer against my chest, my breathing goes rigid. I blamed it on the stairs. And who knows, maybe it was just a bad case of asthma. But I couldn't help but let anxiety creep up on me like a crazy stalker.

I lay there for a few minutes more, catching my breath. A couple of harsh coughs left my throat. But I lay in my comfortable bed nonetheless.

A painful cough erupted from my throat, making me shoot up in my bed and cuff my hands around my mouth to try and muffle it. I didn't need Castiel to worry more about me.

I race to the bathroom, bending over the sink as my horrid coughing continues. It felt like something was clawing its way out of my chest, from my lungs and tearing up my throat.

I coughed and it didn't seem to stop. It wouldn't stop. Blood spewed out of my mouth, splattering into the pristine white sink bowl. I didn't care how loud I was coughing at this point. I just wanted the pain to stop, I wanted to be able to breathe, to be normal.

I didn't notice Castiel rush into my bathroom. Gasping as he put his hands on my shoulders.

"Oh my god." Is what he said over and over again as he frantically took his phone from his pockets, dialing the number for an ambulance. The last thing I heard was Castiel's frantic talking, I could hear his talking trembling with unshed tears. Spots spotted my vision, and I felt my head crash against the ground as my world went black.