After a short nap, I wake up at 7pm, leaving long enough to get ready. I try my best to not look dead, but it doesn't really make a difference.
8pm rolls around, and I hear Scott beep his (mom's) car. I say bye to my dad, put my beanie on and leave the house.
"Hey, man." Says Scott, getting out the car and opening the passenger door for me.
"Thanks." I say as he shuts the door behind me.
We arrive to a house with music booming out of the open windows, empty cups, cans and bottles strewn across the lawn. Drunk teenagers stagger around, kissing, laughing, singing, dancing. I gulp nervously.
"Dude, we don't have to go if you don't want to." Scott assures me as we get out of the car.
"No, no, no. I want to." I say, looking up at the flashing lights and hundreds of people.
When we go in Scott immediately disappears with Kira and I'm left on my own in the air-tight crowd. I sit down on the couch and breath heavily. Everyone around me is having fun; drinking, dancing, smiling, and I'm just sat here alone. Someone walks past me and accidentally trips, spilling me in cold beer.
"Oh, er, hey, sor-sorry man," says a slurred voiced, and I look up to recognise it as being one of the wasted lacrosse team players. I swat my hand as if to say "it's fine" but start wiping the sticky, drying substance off my shoulder.
People shove over me, seemingly desperate to get past the couch I'm sat on, and my breathing starts to go really heavy. My palms sweat and my heart beat rockets up, my hands shaking. I can't breath. I look around frantically, searching the packed room for Scott as I shakily stand. I make my way for the front door, shoving past people, I have to get out of this claustrophobic place.
When I finally open the door, I stagger down the steps from the house, panting heavily, trying to see straight through my blurred vision.
When I almost fall onto the concrete path, I feel a pair of muscular arms catch me. I look up and see Derek leaning over me, his face crawling with worry and anxiety. He bites his lip and holds onto me tightly. I sit up and just throw my arms around him, slowly letting my breathing and heartbeat go back to normal.
I don't why, but I start to cry. Maybe with gratefulness? Or just the fact that I'm dying. I don't know, but he just holds my wobbling body for as long as I remembered, before I passed out.
🍃🍃
I wake up and the smell of disinfectant immediately fills my nose. I'm in the hospital. I look around, squinting in the bright light, but all I see are white walls. I look to my right and see Derek, sat in a chair, biting his nails, next to my bed. Tubes snake out of my arms and chest, and all connect to several machines next to me.
"You shouldn't bite your nails." I say weakly. He looks at me and his face erupts like a volcano; his bright smile the lava, completely illuminating him.
"Hey," he says softly, "how you feeling?" He asks, putting out an arm and stroking my face.
"I'm okay." I nod, looking towards the door.
"Hey, is my dad here?" I ask.
"He was, all night, he just got called in on an emergency. He said he'd be back as quick as he can." Derek tells me.
"Why- why am I...?" I ask.
"You passed out at the party last night, when you were having a panic attack." Says Derek, his face drooping. Of course, how could I forget that joyous moment of my life.
"Oh." I say.
"I called an ambulance, I wasn sure what else to do because you didn't wake up- Scott came out in a panic, looking for you." Chuckles Derek. I smile dryly.
I try and sit up but Derek gently pushes me back down.
"All the tubes'll move if you sit up." He says. It's little things like this that really get me down.
I feel an itch on my nose and go to scratch it, and realise it's just a cannula snaking across my face. I touch it gently, and Derek sees me.
"Your blood was low on oxygen." He tells me. I nod and mouth "oh".
"Stiles, are you okay?" Asks Derek, placing a hand on my arm above all the tubes. I don't answer him, and just look in a different direction.
"Stiles." He repeats.
I feel tears prick my eyes. He takes his hand off my arm.
"What do you want me to say, Derek?! That I'm fine? Because I'm not! I never thought it would get this hard! Sometimes, I just wish it would kill me already!" I shout at him, and his face just looks like a broken heart.
He doesn't answer, he just sits there, quickly wiping tears away as they fall.
"I'm just so tired of it." I whisper.
"I know." He says quietly,taking my hand in his.