Healing Gabriel: Chapter Thirty-Nine
My eyelids cracked open the tiniest bit after I heard my bedroom door squeak open against its hinges. I propped myself up in my mountain of pillows and blankets my mom had practically buried me in earlier that day (and, hey, I wasn't complaining; I would rather be buried six feet under ancient Thomas the Tank Engine bed sheets than dirt and grass).
"Hey," a voice said, kicking the door closed behind them. If I could've, I would've sighed in consternation, but I didn't feel like getting more breathless than I already was. I had been secretly hoping it would've been Gabriel who was coming to see me again, as it was now Sunday night, but deep down I knew he was probably busy with school and all, so I tried not to look too disappointed at the sight of my brother rather than my kitten.
"How're you feeling?" Dylan asked, leaning against my door. I was pretty sure he was holding a tray of soup, but my eyes were quickly losing their focus so I couldn't be positive. I just plopped back down against my mattress, miserable as shit.
"Life sucks," I groaned out, wheezing a little.
"Nah, life doesn't suck, just yours," he teased, but I wasn't in the mood to hear anything he had to say. I didn't even want to look at his stupid, smug face.
"Shut--" gasp "--the fu--" gasp "--ck up."
"You shut the fuck up. You can't even insult me right."
It was getting more and more difficult to catch my breath the longer I laid down, but that was okay because maybe I'd finally pass out and wouldn't have to deal with him. "Get out," I demanded weakly, gritting my teeth.
"Sit up," he commanded, his voice making up for the dominance that I had lacked. He was also ignoring my request and instead coming closer to my side of the bed.
"I said," deep inhale "get out."
"I said," he mimicked a gasping noise (like the asshole he was), "sit up."
I let out a groan of agitation, which was a mistake because it wasted whatever small dollops of air I had left, and I began wheezing and trembling all over. That only lasted for less than a second, though, 'cause Dylan hauled me up against my headboard and handed me a cold glass of water. I didn't want to drink the water, but I knew I had to in order to catch my breath, so I straightened my back best I could and took a small sip.
"You know, I don't like picking on you when you're sick. It's no fun."
I narrowed my eyes at him and put the cup down on top of my nightstand. "Then don't do it," I muttered softly, trying not to waste anymore breath than necessary.
"But I have to," he said, grinning as he ruffled the sticky, sweaty tendrils of dark brown hair off my forehead. "You're my little brother."
"I'm only a year younger than you," I responded, my eyelids dripping over my eyes like melted candle wax. It was hard to keep my eyes open for too long without getting dizzy, so I shut them.
"Exactly, that makes me older. So, how're you feeling? Any better?"
"Not really." Worse, actually, but I wasn't about to tell him or anyone else that.
"Mom's been trying to push your appointment to sooner, but your doctor is really busy, I guess."
"Does that mean that if I die, it'll be their fault and we can sue them for," intake of breath, sip of water "improper treatment of the ill and dying?"
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Healing Gabriel (BoyxBoy)Teen Fiction
Haunted. Terrified. Alone. Those three words seem to be the only emotions that seventeen year old Gabriel Adams knows how to feel. At the age of thirteen, when other boys were chasing after pretty girls and playing in the dirt, Gabriel had been kidn...