TWENTY FIVE

12.9K 480 750
                                    

TWENTY FIVE

The dim lights in the room in the basement of the hospital cast shadows on their faces. Will had been in a similar room at the hospital he did practicum at while at school. It's the room meant for family and friends to say goodbye to their loved ones, right beside the morgue. He never imagined that he would be one of those people saying goodbye.

Her body was mostly covered by a dark sheet, so that only her face and hands could be seen. If he didn't know better, he could think that she was simply napping. She would never wake up. She would never wake up and it would be all his fault. Will knew that something was wrong with her before she had started spasming. He knew what the flu like symptoms could have meant, and he just sat there, watched her life slip away before his eyes. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to forget that sight. He now had more empathy for what Nico went through every night.

Will left that room as soon as he could, taking a deep breath as soon as he was in the well-lit hallway. It was probably just his mind, but he swore he could smell death down here. His mom was still saying goodbye so he did what he did whenever he needed to distract his mind, to think of something else, he started going through and listing all the bones in his body. Thinking logically, medically, was his defense mechanism. Nico had called him out on it the first time Rory was in the hospital, but he couldn't help it. If people were just patients, if his baby sister laying on the cold metal table was just a patient, it didn't hurt so bad.

He wasn't sure how he ended up back at the hotel room. All details of the past twenty-four hours blurred together, but he could still clearly feel the emptiness in his chest. Nico was gone. He wasn't sure if he was there when Will got there, or if the room was empty. He didn't care. Will had gone through every bone and muscle and part of his body, inside and out so many times that now all he wanted to do was lay his head down on his pillow and forget the world.

Gravity seemed extra strong everywhere he went. While it's pull lessoned the farther from the hospital he was, his feet still fragged, his arms felt heavy at his sides, his face made it impossible to do anything than remain uniformly blank. Laying on the bed felt like his body was trying to pull him through and underground. Moving required so much effort that he just laid there. Even when his stomach was yelling, when his bladder was feeling like it was going to explode, when there was a blindingly painful throbbing in his head.

He heard the door open and close. He heard a voice talking to him, but he kept his eyes closed and remained still. He couldn't process what the voice was saying; it only made his headache searingly bad. He felt a cold hand press against his face, causing him to recoil. He let out a sharp cry at the sudden movement. He felt like he was going to throw up, like he had the world's worst hangover increased by a tenfold. He managed to dry heave, leaning over the side of the bed, but he hadn't consumed anything in the past twenty-four hours at least. There was nothing left inside of him, making the hollow emptiness ever more present.

Cold hands guided him upright, and a cool liquid was against his lips so he sipped slowly. Pills were placed in his hand that he swallowed. He sat there, sipping water and focusing on the hand that was rubbing circles up and down his back until the world came into focus and the stabbing pain behind his eyes had reduced to a more tolerable amount, as long as he moved slowly.

"Eat something." The voice and the cold hands were connected to Nico, who was seated cross-legged on the bed with some bread and cooked vegetables in a bowl. Exhaustion was clear in his face, but he just moved the bowl towards Will, who reached numbly to grab it.

Will felt some energy return to his body the more he ate, but he was still unable to eat more than half the bowl before feeling sick again. "Sorry, I know this isn't what you had planned for this weekend." His voice was rough and scratchy.

Flatmates - Solangelo AUWhere stories live. Discover now