A/N: SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! and also sorry because this is unedited and may/will contain stupid.
Jamie
Skye had helped me out with Jared, and he had agreed to let me go for a couple of day to go see my brother. That was the humane thing to do, but he couldn't postpone shooting much longer. He had said that by Tuesday, we had to be up and running. Now I was running through the airport, going straight for the last flight to Copenhagen; Skye running behind me.
When we get to the security check I stop and look back at her. The line was all gone and there were about 10 minutes till take off.
"This is as far as I go," She says as she catches up to me, she wasn't far behind.
"Skye I'm scared," I say.
"Don't worry just yet," Skye answers, knowing what I meant, it was not the flight to which I was referring. She takes my hand in hers and squeezes it.
"The doctors say he was in critical condition. What if? What if he..?" I speak quickly, the words coming out in a stream. Once again I felt like I can't breathe. The words refusing to come out of my mouth, though they are loud and clear in my head. What if he is already dead?
"Jamie, look at me," she places her hand on my cheek and avert my eyes to hers. We're close her body against mine, "he isn't. Just take one little thing at a time. Take care of yourself, okay?"
I nod shortly, "I promise," I say before leaning forward and embrace her, pressing her small frame against mine. Shortly after I release her and start toward security check, but I haven't even got two steps before she yanks me back.
She presses her lips intensely to mine, and I kiss her back with just as much eagerness.
She is the one to break us apart, "you need to hurry" she says. I nod, taking my things. Just for good luck I kiss her again, it made the fear ebb away.
"Jamie, take off is in 6 minutes."
I ran to the security people and took off my shoes and placed all the other stuff in a tray. I got though it just in time, as I look back at her, already running toward the gate, she is waving.
When I sit in my seat, the plane quickly takes off. But thankfully there is wifi. I unlock my phone and go to twitter. Where I make a private message to Skye's profile.
'I'll miss you.' I write. About 20 minutes later the reply tick in, she must have gotten home.
'I already miss you.' It is quickly followed by another message, 'we're doing this again? Like really doing it? No games? No stupidity? Just you and me?
'I'd like nothing more.' then I add, 'just you and me.'
She replies with a bunch of kissy smileys and hearts, and I find myself smiling goofily.
'I need to tell you something.' I write knowing that keeping secrets from her now will only come crashing down around me in the future.
'Shot.'
I decide to go straight to the point, 'The girl I kissed at the party was Lily...'
Next followed dead silence for a whole 35 minutes. My heart is drumming hard in my chest. Had I screw it up? I have a ringing in my ears. I have almost decided that my life is officially over when the message ticks in.
'Did it mean anything?'
'No, not anymore.' I write hastily.
'Ok.'
'I'm sorry.' I write.
'I kissed someone too, you don't need to say that.'
'We're fucked up, Skye..'
'Well let's be fucked up together then.' is her reply. And I smile again.
Then I write a quote I heard from somewhere, 'I'm not a freak, I am just freak-ish.'
By then our conversation glided over to less sore subjects like Evelyn snarky comments on Instagram, to Patrick constant hair whipping. It kept my mind of the fact that my brother is dying.
Copenhagen is a small city compared to many others, but it has culture like no other. Most of the buildings are old with beautiful carvings and green bronze roofs. Though the sky is always grey and the wind always brisk, the place is beautiful.
But I don't take the time to take in the surroundings; I rush to the hospital, not bothering to check into a hotel or anything at all. I take a cap, even though they're very expensive in Denmark and head to the national hospital, where I know my brother is kept.
The world is sort of a haze, I know if I stop and think, I'll lose it. I'll cry like a baby and that won't help anyone. Not yet. I need to see him. About ten minutes from the hospital I get a text from my mom.
'Doctors say he is stable. But he is still in a coma. '
I don't reply, I just pocket the phone and wait the last ten minutes before I quickly pay the cabby and sprint into the foyer of the hospital. I head to the counter where a slightly chubby, but pretty nurse with blond hair and blue sat in her nurse white clothes.
"Where do you keep Sam Bower? I'm his bother."
"Third floor, room 34b." she tells me giving me the kind 'nurse' smile.
"Thank you," I say and head for the elevators, get to the third floor. I walk swiftly in the directions the signs direct, then suddenly out of the blue, the sigh appear. Room 34b.
The door is closed.
A couple of nurses pass by me. An elderly wheels by in his underwear.
I feel nauseated. Like my non-existent dinner could suddenly make a rerun. I am shaking all over, not knowing what I'll find behind the door.
He is stable Jamie. I try to calm myself. Nothing has happened yet.
Then I press down the door handle and walk in. My mother sits by the side of the bed slumped in a chair. My father sit's a little farther away at the end of the bed, he is sleeping too. They look exhausted.
At last my gaze settles on my brother. He is pale tugged neatly under the covers. His blond hair is spread out in a halo around his face. He looks peaceful, like he is just sleeping. I notice the cast on his right arm and his covers seem bigger at his legs then they should be. He has probably broken about every bone in his body.
The room has white walls with a yellow steak going through the middle of it and the floors is linoleum there's a sink by the door, the only other things in the room is the chairs which my parents are sitting, a table, a turned off TV and my brothers bed. The curtains are drawn.
"Jamie?" it is my mother's groggy voice, she was lifting herself up from the chair. I notice her looking at my brother out of the corners of her eyes, just to check if he's still out. Hoping that he wasn't. "You're here." she says.
"I am," I answer, "What do the doctors say? Will he wake up?" I talk quietly.
My mother leans back in her chair with a heavy sigh, "They say he got badly hurt, broke a lot of bones. He is nearly in a full body cast. But he only got a concussion, no damaged to the brain or the spine. They say that eventually he'll wake up, just a matter of time. How much time, they don't know. They say it could be everything between a day, to a week."
I walk over to the other side of the bed to where my mother isn't sitting. Sam's face is blue on the side facing me, that's why I didn't see it from the door. He has scratches on his cheekbone, and stitches through the left eyebrow.
Carefully I sit down on the side of the bed and take his hand in mine, this arm is free of casts, so I cautiously lift it onto my lap.
"Sam, would you please just wake up?" I whisper my voice cracking. I sit like that for hours, not moving just stroking his hand absentmindedly in the end. I stare at his unmoving face, watch the steady rise of his chest, and listen to the steady beep of the machine mapping his heart rhythm. That was until one single ringing tone filled the room. It rang intensely.
My head snap to the heart monitor, one uninterrupted line filled the screen. His heart has stopped.
"SAM!" I jolt up from my chair, I stand over him and I know that he is gone, that his heart is no longer beating, "SAM, PLEASE! NO, SAM! NOT YOU! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!" I shake his shoulders, grab his face. He doesn't move.
Before I know it I, along with my father and mother were ushered out the room by nurses and doctors. The last thing I see are the doctors ripping Sam's shirt open, revealing a purple and blue scrawny chest.
We are told to sit in the chairs outside, waiting for the doctors to do their job. I did no such thing. With the adrenaline still pumping in my veins I sprint down the corridor, and just keep running till I find an exit and hit the cold air outside. The sky is grey, which fits my mood perfectly, no thunder would have been more accurate, but my luck is just sort of out.
I run and run and run. Charging around on some grass field behind the hospital, wearing my black skinny jeans, plain black shirt and leader jacket, I must look ridiculous. Like someone ready to be thrown in the loony bin. Maybe I am.
My brother's face keeps emerging in my mind. The face I last saw. So pale and lifeless, despite all the bruising. His dead face. As I keep running more faces start to appear. The face he had on his 18th birthday when I took him to a music store in London and told him to pick his very own guitar. He could pick any one of them, no matter the price. His face had lit up with happiness and overpowering joy. He had spent hours in the store, trying out approximately every guitar.
Memories of him and I fighting in the car on our way on a family vacation play in my mind - like an actual tape. I had been 11, he had been 6. We had fought for the right of the Pac - man Gameboy. It had been so ridiculous. We had both ended with falling asleep in the car anyway.
The most recent memory coming up was a couple weeks ago when I had facetimed him and told him I had landed the role of Jace again. He had told me he should play a concert at the academy. He had seemed so full of life and joy. He had even talked to some extent about some girl in his class.
Suddenly I stop the dead, the adrenaline drained from my body. I am sweaty, my breath is rapid and I am pretty sure my hair has a striking resemblance to Einstein's.
I lay down on my back in the grass, it's cold and the cold seep up through my body. It's soothing. The cold. I stare at the grey sky. There is absolutely nothing interesting about that stupid grey sky.
My breath slows and become steady after a short while. The sweat on my body freezes and I start to shiver. My hair probably still look like a mad man's.
Slowly I get up, my joint and muscles aching. I hobble inside, gradually feeling the heat returning to my body as my circulation reboot. I raise my hands to pat down my disoriented hair and find out that I have been crying. My cheeks are wet. Huh. Funny. I didn't even notice. I had been too busy running like lions were at my heels.
I remove them with the back on my hand. When I get back to the hall where I left my parents, they're gone.
I feel the panic rise in my chest as I near room 34b. He is dead. He is dead. He is dead. My head keep chanting, like it was some kind of idiotic battle roar. I swing open the door and find my mother and father stand over the bed, looking down at Sam. He is dead. He is dead. My brain roars.
And then I hear it, that faint steady beep.
He is alive.
"He is alive, sweetie," my mom says, turning to me. She holds out her hand I take it. Feeling like I'm an eleven year old boy again. I hold onto it, her hands are soft and strong. A mother's hands. She wraps her arms around me and hugs me tightly. And I hug her back, my father comes around and pats my back. I hug him next.
"Where'd you go, sweetheart?" my mom asks in a quiet voice, "you were suddenly gone. We tried looking for you."
"I went for a run," I answer, not bothering to find a more valid excuse. She looks oddly at me for a second, but decides not to question it. So she just nods and hugs me again.
"What happened?" I asked, "why..?" my voice trails off. Why did his heart give out.
My mother tells me the same vague story the Doctors gave her. He had a heart attack. It could happen when the body had been injured so badly as his. We just had to hope it didn't happen again.
***
Very little happened the next day, saturday. I had checked into a little motel near the hospital where I kept my things and slept. Otherwise I was at the hospital, accompanying my brother and my parents. A constant knot of fear had settled in my body, I just didn't know where exactly. So it was hard unknotting it.
I took my phone and went to twitter and wrote.
'Pray for baby Bower.'
Then I went to private messages and saw Skye had sent me two messages yesterday evening.
'How is he?' is the first message.
'Are you okay, Jamie?' is the next. I miss her, I miss her so badly it hurts all over. I want her to be with me. I want her to be in my arms and myself in hers. I want to know she is safe and mine and that she loves me and that I love her, even though it is way too soon to say that sort of thing again. I figure it must be the sleep deprivation talking. I barely slept at night, I just lay awake staring at the ceiling. Every time I closed my eyes I had nightmares.
'He had a heart attack yesterday, but he survived it. He seems fine now.' I send it, and then write another one to answer her next question, 'I am alright, considering...'
This means that I am absolutely terrible and that I am about to go nuts. The waiting will kill me faster than anything else.
I decide to write another message, three words. 'I miss you.'
Her answer came quick.
'I wish I would be there with you. I miss you too.' Then there was added a kissy smiley.
'I'll have to go back on Monday,' I write.
'I know. If you wanna stay I can talk to Jared for you?'
'No don't, not just yet. He can wake up any day now.' I write back.
'Justgive me the word and I'll do it.'
Then I proceed to asking about everyone at home, but her answers seem very distraught and I wonder what is really going on. Or maybe I am just imagining things. I need sleep. Badly.
***
Sunday Sam's heart stops again.
A/N: ... ups...
Do you think Sam will.. pas on?
Also, did I kill your feels? I was about to cry myself sometimes.. To be honest...