Whore.

Chapter 32: Histamine

He muttered the last part, but I still managed to pick it. I lay back in bed, looking at Swash who had stayed mute but otherwise  looked happy. The doctor left with the writing board and a few nurses came over. Swash just stood there, watching everything. For some reason, nobody told him to leave. I got unhooked from the infusion bag and cardiac monitor and the same doctor came back to perform my examination. I did a bunch of things, from reply whether I had felt stuff on my face to say how many fingers I could see to stick out and waggle my tongue. A lot of it felt very childish. Swash just looked on, smiling. I answered a few questions to prove that my brain was still functional. I think he called it an AMT or something. Once the exam was over, the doctor turned to Swash.

"Are you with him?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you related to him?"
"No, but I brought him here." Swash said flatly.
"Okay, I'll need you to come with me. We have some paper work for you to fill out. I'll suggest, for the future, that you have some EpiPen lying around. Just in case."

Swash made a low grunt and left the room with the doctor. The man on the other side had become unstable again. A collective sigh filled the room.

"Clear!"

I left the hospital a few hours later. It was a little sunny outside, something I couldn't tell from the interior lighting of the ICU. But it was cold. October winds weren't a joke. I shuddered and wrapped my arms around myself, annoyed I didn't have a jacket. Swash probably left mine at home in a rush to get here so I couldn't blame him. I sat in the passenger's seat of the car and Swash got in through the other side. He inserted the keys into the ignition slot but didn't start up. Instead he turned on the heater before turning around to face me.

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea," Swash began apologize.
"Meh," I brushed it off. "I'm alive. What happened in the house? I don't remember much."
"You fell on the ground and I called 911. I had no idea what to do. She said I should make sure you were breathing. The ambulance came later and they started doing some stuff. You were groaning at some times and quiet others and I thought you were going into a coma or something." In essence, typical post-allergy reaction. Nothing fantastic.
"What did they call you for just now??" I remembered him being taken away and having to sit for more than an hour doing nothing but  watch other people not die.
"I had to settle your bills. How come you don't have health insurance?"
"Haven’t paid premiums in ages. Seemed like such a waste of money."
"Seriously, Michael, you can't just live in this modern age without something so basic and so vital."
"Sorry," I muttered. "I hope I didn't cost you another fortune."
"It's fine. I'm just glad you're okay. Bradley was crying when you left. He'll be glad to see you're alright."
"Quite a bit of role reversal," I joked.
"Too soon," he muttered and smiled a bit.

He started up the car and we headed home. It was around 11, as I could tell from the sun's rays filtering down from the cloudy grey sky. I was really hungry. My stomach growled as if on cue. Swash looked at me.

"Hey, I didn't finish dinner, remember?"
"I know. Sorry. I'll keep sesame out of all future dishes."

There was a way he said the 'future' like I was going to be eating in his house for a long time. Or maybe that was just me reading too much into a simple word. I was going to be with him for the next two days, at least. Maybe that's what he meant.

"So, when are you going to see him?" Swash asked suddenly. He looked sullen, like the question had left a bad taste in his mouth.
"Who?" I initially had no idea what he was talking about as my thoughts had been somewhere else. Then it clicked. Malone. I had promised to go see him today. That would explain Swash's expression.

"Oh. Probably sometime this evening. I have to call him first." Swash actually looked jealous. I couldn't blame him. Even I was beginning to feel like a bad investment. He had done so much for me and I had done very little in return. But there was little I could do. This was the situation we found ourselves in. Life often works like that. We don't get what we want all the time. I mean, look at me. I would never have said, as a child, that I wanted to grow up to be a whore in Boystown. But here we are. So I guess he had to suck it up and face reality. The rest of the trip was silent, occasionally punctuated with my stomach growling. I began to feel some excited anticipation and I knew it was from the joy of getting to see Bradley again. We went into the apartment, and it was quiet. I walked to Bradley's room, beginning to feel weak. It was empty.