If You Must Whisper

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I get sick in cars on good days. Today is not a good day. And this isn't a car.

This is a loud, bright red ambulance that takes turns too wide and only has a window looking backwards. Even the bright white interior lights contribute to my mounting nausea. It gets so bad that the (admittedly very attractive) paramedic has to pump anti-nausea drugs into my IV. He gives me an annoyed look that plainly says, 'seriously? Your "friend" is on death's door, and you need anti-nausea drugs? Wanker'. (Okay, maybe he doesn't look quite that judgmental...)

Despite my escalating urge to vomit, I don't let go of Baz's hand. I think probably could have ridden in the car with Penny and Agatha, but I didn't want to leave him, and the paramedics wanted to keep an eye on me, just in case. Fiona's conked out on a second gurney a few feet away, and since there wasn't enough room for a third, I convinced the paramedics to let me sit on the bench, instead of calling a backup ambulance to bring me along.

My entire body aches; I'm more tired than I've been in a long, long time. But I manage to stay awake enough to hold onto Baz, occasionally murmuring comforting things to him. Though his eyes are at half-mast and dip closed every so often, he manages to stay awake as well, his gaze never leaving mine.

"I'm never letting go of you again," I whisper, rubbing my thumb in circles on the back of his chilled hand.

"Good." His voice is still no more than the barest breath of air. Sounding pained and drugged up, his words muffled through his oxygen mask, but beautifully, wonderfully alive. "Good."


Author's note:

Happy New Year! Thank you all for being so wonderfully supportive; you're the best readers ever! 2017 had its ups and downs, but seeing your votes and comments never failed to brighten my day. I know this last year has been tough for a lot of people, so here's to a better 2018, yeah?

Yours very sincerely,



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In honor of the new year, I drew Simon using the style I liked to draw in 5 years ago. :)

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