The Graduate (Glee - Sam Evans Fan Fiction)

Chapter Fourteen ~ Diagnosis

"He stayed here? This whole time?" I ask, still in disbelief that the boy whom I presumed had next to no interest in me had decided to watch over me for the past three days.

"I mean, he went to school but he skipped a lot of classes to be here before anyone else." Brittany informs me, her eyes are dancing and I can tell she's trying to pry something from me. Despite the fact that there's not a thing to pry. 

"Surprised?" Santana chirps from my other side, an adorable amount of smugness in her voice.

I nod with an expression that even I can't put a description to. I don't know what I'm feeling. I don't know whether I'm touched or a little irritated. All the same, I'm pulled from my wondering state when a knock sounds at the door.

"Hello, ladies." The doctor greets Brittany and Santana before she looks to me with a kind smile.
"Good morning, Teegan. How are you feeling?"

"Light." I say, my voice is almost a whisper. I'm still feeling pretty dozy, and I'm sure that if I closed my eyes now I'd be out within five seconds.

All the same, my doctor lets out a soft chuckle and takes a few steps further in to the room.
"That's normal. Any dizziness? Nausea?"

I shake my head once. "Not really." I say and she nods, glancing down to her clipboard as she moves to the beeping-machinery on the other side of Santana, who takes my left hand in hers and offers me a soothing smile. The smile that I've missed so much. 
I exhale before I ask, "What happened to me?" and the doctor's eyes move from the machine to mine. She moves to stand at the foot of the bed.

"You've been in an induced coma for the past 72 hours," she begins, and I nod in understanding. She pauses before continuing,
"as a result of alcohol poisoning." she says slowly. Santana presses her head to my stomach and her shoulders begin to shake. When I look over to Brittany her eyes are closed, her cheeks damp, her breath rattling.

"Your sister tells me that you have a history of alcoholism." The doctor says quietly, I can tell she's not trying to push me to Santana's state. But I don't feel the tears yet, I feel numb. Utterly lifeless.

I don't directly respond. "I've been clean for eight months." I say abruptly and hear Santana's breath hitch beside me.

"But you'd been drinking the night before you collapsed?" She asks me as if she already knows the answer, and she clearly does. I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs but there is no oxygen, no space for me to scream.

My eyes begin to sting when I nod in confirmation, not that she needs my god-damned approval because she's already made her first judgement.

"I didn't drink that much." My voice betrays me and Santana's head rises - her expression so hurt and so damaged and I feel utterly breathless.
"I ha- I had three drinks. Three." I say, holding up a hand. Was it three? I can't even begin to recall that night.

"Teegan, you've suffered severe liver damage." She says and I almost lose my breath completely.
"Along with the effects of your addiction last year, whatever you had to drink the other night was the tip of the iceberg." Her tone is soft, she's trying to make this appear more curable and less serious than it is in reality. I know exactly what this is, I know what it means. 
Santana's sobs quicken beside me and Brittany presses her forehead to my damp temple.

I wipe my tears with my free hand and look back up to the doctor.
"Okay," I sniff, "So I don't drink. I- I can do that, it was a one off." 

"Teegan, your body can only handle so much and with the state that your liver is in, you won't be able to manage much at all without collapsing again." She says, exhaling slowly before she takes the final hurdle.
"If you carry on your liver will completely give out, Teegan. You'll be dead within a month." 

I lose my breath when Santana's eyes peer up at me through wettened lashes. Her cheeks are smeared black and I can barely make out the rosy cheeks that I adore so much. She continues to sob, and my lungs appear smaller and smaller and tighter and tighter by the second. I don't even notice the disappearance of the doctor as I bring my hand up to caress Santana's silky ebony hair.
"Shh." I whisper. Brittany lays herself beside me on the bed and ducks her head in to the crook of my neck, I hear no sobs but I feel the dampness of her cheeks on my skin.

~~~

"You can't carry on like this, Teegs." Santana sniffs. She buries her still fragile expression in to the coffee that Brittany had previously handed her.

"I know." I nod slowly. I'm still a little speechless. Even the thought of death had never occurred to me as a result of what I always thought was a fallback, a way to feel numb and better about everything.

"No, I mean it." She sets the polystyrene cup on the small table beside her. "This can't go on. You can come back to New York if that's what you really want, if that's what it takes." She says. I can tell she is frantic, and I can tell that a part of her is expecting me to fall off the wagon if she leaves me again.

"No, I- I'm liking it here." I say and, for once I actually think I mean it.

"I just think that you're too close to Mom. What if she gets to you again? I won't be closeby."

"I have Brit." I remind her gentle expression.
"And I told you, she isn't going to call anymore. Not either of us." I sip at my ice water - memories of that evening beginning to flood back. Small snippets replaying in my mind, over and over and over.
"That night was a one-off. I was angry, I was livid about the things she said and I needed- I don't know, some comfort." I say, my tone quick. I don't really quite know how to explain this feeling to anyone other than myself. 

"But that can't be your comfort, T. It can't, you heard what the doctor said." She says and part of me wants Brittany to speak, but she hasn't said two words since the doctor left the room, and the only word she had said was a sigh - "Coffee."

"I know, I- it won't happen again, okay?" I say with a hand to my forehead - oh, the pounding.

Santana's breath shakes before she speaks again. 
"Get some sleep, T." She says softly, brushing the hair from my forehead with one hand and tucking the duvet up and around my shoulders.

"We'll be here when you wake up."