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Chapter 25- The Destined Diagnosis

Connor returned home following his meeting with Jonah. Although he'd left with the intention to explain the plan he shared with his new friend Matt regarding LGBT+ education, he'd returned home with a newfound concern; his boyfriend was already missing spending their days together. Naturally, he was in the same boat, wishing he could still see him as often as before. Still, he was glad that they had dispelled Jonah's fears and made plans to walk home together the following day. As the long-haired teen got himself ready for bed, he was once again stopped, his focus now on the sudden pain erupting from his chest to his throat, his breathing suddenly short and forced, as though he was struggling against what felt like a build-up of phlegm in his throat. His assumption lead him to the bathroom, a now empty bottle of water on the counter at his side as he hunched over the sink, coughing and spluttering, desperately trying to get whatever was stuck in his throat out of his system and into the basin.
This began another night in front of the sink. Connor, continuously trying to rid himself of the uncomfortable feeling deep in his chest, slammed his palm against his torso again, coughing loudly, doubling over as his eyes slammed shut. Choking and sputtering into the sink, he felt saliva leaving his lips, some landing on his hands instead. Connor didn't feel any better as he brought a hand up to his mouth, now coughing into it instead, feeling his palm growing gradually damper. His eyes remained closed until his tongue stirred, tasting something different and unclear filling his mouth. Removing his hand, he coughed it out into the sink, the taste of something metallic lingering on his tongue. His eyes opened in panic. He was coughing up something that tasted slightly metallic? Oh god, he thought to himself as he saw the inside of the sink; splattered with something thick and deep red. Connor looked up to the mirror next, seeing the corners of his mouth and his lips stained dark crimson instead of their usual flushed pink. He couldn't cry out, scream or express his horror as, as soon as he opened his mouth again, Connor felt his throat tighten, causing him to choke once again, his coughing carrying on, feeling to him as though it wouldn't stop ever again. His eyes shut tightly, his arms shaking as he kept coughing, louder and louder, eventually forcing it back, trying to use his voice.

"Mum, Dad!" He yelled or, at least, tried to. His voice was rough, hoarse and it pained him to use. He choked and sputtered for a few more minutes, his legs beginning to shake in the sheer panic of what was happening. What was happening? Since when was his throat so bad?

A minute passed before he could call out again, the door flying open quickly after this time, his father having been woken up by his coughing and then alerted of the seriousness by his son's voice calling for him and his wife, who was such a heavy sleeper than she remained asleep. Simon ran into the bathroom having seen his son doubled over the sink, seeing the blood dripping from his lips. He had no idea what to do when he saw him, his only response was to take Connor's shoulder, hugging him from the side and rubbing his back, panicking as he realised his son urgently needed to go to the hospital. Connor's knees gave out from the fear and pain he was in, tumbling back into his father's arms before collapsing to the floor, still sputtering as blood dripped from his mouth onto the tiled floor below them. He found himself on his side, his father behind him, ensuring he didn't roll onto his back and make his choking worse. Simon's own breathing was unstable as he saw Connor in such a state. Rubbing his shoulder, he pushed himself off the ground.
"Stay there, I'm calling an ambulance," Simon exclaimed, as though Connor was able to move. He ran as fast as he could back into the bedroom, grabbing his phone from the dresser and dialling '999'. It was him running into the room, the door flying open and then slamming shut again that finally woke Nina, who only saw him leave the room again, saying something that she couldn't quite hear. The woman sat up in bed, wiping her eyes and ripping the covers off her, slowly following after her husband to the bathroom.
Simon remained crouched in front of his son, who remained on his side, his body weak and his eyes still closed. He continued coughing and sputtering, however no longer as violently. Blood dripped from the corner of his lips to his cheek, and then to the floor as his eyes fluttered open, seeing his father still with him. His gaze was torn away to the doorway as he heard the familiar voice of his mother. He was tired, scared and weak, struggling to make out what she was saying. He could hear his father vaguely, giving their address.
"I don't know," he heard Simon say, panicked, "he's coughing up blood and-... yes, he's awake... uhm, okay," he then looked back into Connor's eyes, "you've got to stay awake for me, okay? Can you hear me?"
Connor nodded, his movements stiff and minimal.
"Okay, good. Take my hand-" Simon held Connor's hand tightly "-and hold me as tightly as you can." The teenage boy did as he was told to the best of his ability. His grip, while he strained to hold Simon tightly, his father noticed was loose and weak. He had to make sure he was still conscious somehow, while also staying on the phone until the ambulance arrived, just as he'd been asked.