Bloody Texas

Hide your Children from the Infection

Lance held his arms out to his side as he followed the yellow line on the hospital floor. His dark brown ankle boots clicked the floor with each one of his dramatic steps. His baby pink long sleeved shirt once fit him nicely, but now hung off his wrists. On hot summer days, his favorite things to wear were his jean shorts and thigh-high white stockings. Sometimes people would comment on his feminine clothing and makeup, but Lance never cared.

A petite Asian nurse gave him a little wave as she passed by, which he returned with a small nod. After a few more steps Lance reached a right turn. He lifted his head curiously and examined his surroundings. If he followed the line and turned right, it would lead him into an elevator; and if he turned left, it would lead him to a stairwell. His mother always told him to use the elevator since he may get hurt if he took the stairs. His head switched directions as he rolled over his options. After a moment, he smirked and turned left.

The silver door handle was chilly, unlike the air outside. The walls of the stairwell were painted an ugly beige, giving off a prison vibe. The only welcoming aura was the sunlight that lit up the claustrophobic area. Lance rolled his eyes and skipped up the stairs with his hands behind his back. The scraping of his boots bounced off the walls as he hopped up each step. He licked his lips and increased his speed. It was always the little things that brought him the most joy. When he got a little too confident on the last step up, the sole of his brown boot caught on the edge of the stair. The cherry blossom-themed Pandora bracelet on his wrist clattered as he caught himself with his knees with a little yelp. He blinked a few times, processing what had just happened.

Black converses entered his field of view with a scrape, "Are you alright, miss?"

The voice was gentle but laced with a harsh tone. Lance lifted his eyes to a pale man with a black mullet holding a hand down for him. He was dressed in ripped black jeans and a band t-shirt–highly inappropriate for the weather in Lance's opinion.

The boy's eyes widened a little when he met Lance's gaze, "-ah, sir then?"

He stared at his hand for a moment before taking it and standing up. A stinging pain shot his knees and right calf when he straightened them, causing him to wince. His stockings had torn and blood trickled into the white fabric. Rolling his eyes, he let out an annoyed "Oh no."

The man's eyes widened a little, "Oh, we should take care of that."

Lance rubbed his forehead with his palm, "Yeah, I'm gonna need to see a doctor."

"A doctor?" His face lit up, "Come with me." He took a step toward the stairs, but stopped and turned back to Lance. "Here," he held his arms out with his back to him, "hop on."

Lance was taken aback by his bold actions. The man was nice, but Lance didn't trust people easily. "Er- why?"

His head turned to look over his shoulder, "It wouldn't be good if you tripped again," his eyes fell to Lance's bloody legs, "and you don't look so good."

Lance wanted to protest, but he didn't have a choice. He was already getting a little light-headed. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around the boy's neck as he crouched to grab Lance's thighs. With a little jump, he started up the stairs. "My name's Keith, by the way."

Keith's hair smelled like the sun and dust. "Lance," he added.

"That's a pretty name." He opened the door with his elbow and they entered the hospital hallway. A crowd of voices and various beeping filled the air. It was like they passed through a void into a new world of motion.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a kid," Lance pouted.

Keith chuckled, then leaned over the counter to a nurse, "Call my brother to room 306."

The nurse responded with a 'right away' and turned to pick up a phone. Keith returned his attention back to Lance as he entered a room, "How old are you anyway?"

Lance hopped off his back and found a spot on the white bed, "Twenty."

Keith rolled over to Lance in a small black office chair, "Really?" He reached for Lance's knees.

Lance quickly stopped his hands with a panicked slap, "Uh, you're gonna need gloves."

Keith eyed him suspiciously, but shrugged and retrieved a pair from the wall. Snapping them onto his wrists, he unlaced Lance's boots and set them on the floor.

The rubber brushed against Lance's thigh as Keith pulled down his stocking. It was ticklish, but he held back from kicking Keith in the stomach right there. The whole situation felt awkward, so he opted to try and start another conversation. "So, you a doctor here?"

Keith slid the left stocking off his foot, "No, but my brother is."

"Oh," Lance's gaze shifted around the room, "Where is he?"

The other stocking came off, "He'll be here real' soon."

Lance's mouth squished together as he tried to stifle a laugh.

Keith shot him a curious look, "What?"

Lance smiled wide, "You talk like a cowboy, too."

He sighed, "Barely."

Lance's finger shot at him, rattling his bracelet, "See?!" He imitated a terribly thick southern accent, "Barely."

Keith thought about it for a second, then laughed. "Yeah, I guess I do." He shook his head in amusement and tugged his other stocking off. "But nowhere near as bad as you do."

"Hey, that's not fair!" Lance playfully slapped his shoulder.

A low, exasperated voice sounded from the entrance. "What's got you laughing?" A man in a lab coat flipped through papers on a clipboard. A distinct scar ran across his nose.

Keith turned to face the doctor with a hand on his knee, "Well, I found a little fr-"

Lance immediately recognized the muscular man. His mouth dropped, "Dr. Shirogane?"

His eyes widened behind his thin glasses, "Lance?" He threw his clipboard into the counter and pushed Keith's chair away, sliding up one of his own. He fussed over Lance with a worried voice, "What happened to you?! You were just here!"

Lance rubbed the back of his neck and turned away with a nervous chuckle, "I- uh- I took the stairs."

"Shiro, you know him?" Keith pointed to Lance with his thumb.

Shiro slid a shiny tray table over to his side, "I'm his doctor." He eyed Keith's hands, "And take those gloves off, you can't touch him."

Lance's chest ached a little and he sulked like a chastised toddler. He knew that Dr. Shirogane didn't mean it like that, but the phrase alone was still offensive. His oldest brother Mark used to yell at his children for hugging Lance at holiday gatherings. When everything was revealed through gossip, members of his family slowly started to keep their distance as if breathing the same air would infect them too. The only person that didn't ever show any sign of disgust was his dad. He only showed fatherly love for his son.

Keith plopped back in his chair and crossed his arms, "Why can't I? You can touch him."

"I'm a doctor," Shiro continued patching up Lance's wounds. "I've been trained to-"

"I have AIDS," Lance spat out. Years of bottling up his emotions made him a lot more blunt with people. They always scrunched up their faces and took a step back, hiding their children behind their legs. Then they make up a convenient excuse and quickly run away. It was better to get it over with quickly than drag out a conversation that would result in hateful ignorance. Keith had been nice and helpful, but maybe their time together was up. At least it was fun while it lasted.

Keith used his shoe as an anchor, swinging his chair side to side. His eyebrow lowered to his cheek, "So?"