The Foreigner & The Pessimist (malexmale)

12. Zuuro

"What's going on?" Lane asks, as the medics unload him from the ambulance.

It's the fifth time since we left Unity High that he's asked that question, and it's getting harder and harder for me to keep myself from freaking out each time. The medics assure me that confusion is normal with this type of head injury, but it's still really scary seeing him like this. Seeing him pass so quickly between lucid and disoriented.

I step down and find my place at his side again, as his eyes flick nervously between the unfamiliar faces around him. I take his hand and give it a little squeeze to get his attention. "We're at the hospital. You had an accident." I tell him, as one of the medics gives the attending doctor the rundown of his current condition.

He's got a closed head injury – which basically means Darin didn't crack his skull open – and a laceration to the back of his head. He's showing signs of disorientation, but he's awake and responsive. His vitals are stable, and he's maintained his airway.

He's fine. He's gonna be fine. I tell myself. I can't afford to freak out right now. He needs me to be calm, so he stays calm, because as scary as this is for me, it's worse for him.

We're taken to a small room, where two more doctors and a nurse wait for us. I can feel Lane's panic rising even more as they move him from the medic's gurney to one of their own, breaking our connection, and pushing me back towards the wall. And then the medics are gone, and it's just me, and Lane, and the doctors, and they're all moving and talking so fast that I can't even follow what's going on anymore.

"You need to go. You can stand outside the room, but you can't be in here." Someone says, and suddenly there's a nurse putting her arm around my back and guiding me out the door.

"We'll take good care of your friend." She says, and then she slides the door shut in my face.

This is bad. It has to be bad, because if it wasn't, they wouldn't be getting too him so fast, would they?

I cut my hand – bad – shortly after we moved here, so I've been to the emergency room before. They never worked on me this quickly. My mom and I waited almost an hour for them to stitch me up, and there were some other people there that day that'd been waiting even longer.

Because severe cases take precedence over non-severe cases, I learned. So, that means Lane's case must be severe. It means the medics were wrong, and I should be worried, because this is bad. It's really, really bad.

I close my eyes, trying to keep my breathing even. Please be okay. Please...please...please just be okay.

I came all this way to find him. We haven't even really gotten the chance to get to know each other yet. I can't lose him now. This can't be all the time we get. This can't be what separates us. He has to be okay. Suddenly, what happened this morning over breakfast doesn't seem like such a big deal anymore. Not when compared to this.

When I open my eyes again, it's to the crashing of Lane kicking someone – one of the doctors, I think – into a cart behind her. They finally unstrapped him from the backboard, and he isn't just panicked anymore; he's combative.

The doctor Lane kicked opens the door. "We need some help in here! And someone page Dr. Edwards!" she calls; not even paying me an ounce of her attention.

"I can help. I can get him to calm down." I tell her. I don't know why he's suddenly so terrified, maybe it's because he's just confused or maybe it's something else, but I know I can help him.

She doesn't even look at me as she opens the door a little wider for three more people to enter the already crowded room. "No, you stay out here. We've got it handled."