Jean smiled and bashfully looked over at Marco. He was sitting next to him and was picking bright yellow buttercups out of the grass field. They only grew during April, and they were Marco's favorite flower so why wouldn't Jean take him?
"I love them so much. They are so pretty and they remind me of you, always happy." Marco said while gentlty brushing the yellow petals of a buttercup he was holding. Marco turned towards the blushing Jean and stuck the flower firmly in his sandy hair.
"Really?" Jean asked, touching the flower with his fingertips.
"Of course!" Marco beamed as Jean adjusted the flower. They kept picking the bright yellow and pink buttercups, until a patch of empty field formed around the two and the sun was setting. The flowers were strewn among them as they collected. Their conversation lasted for endless hours and the atmosphere was sweet.
Picking a flower, smelling the sweet aroma, and putting it in the pile. Little moments with Marco like this were what Jean loved most. Jean started to twist long blades of grass together and stuck the smallest buttercups he could find between the braids.
"A flower crown?" Marco giggled and grabbed the crown before putting it on his head. Their smiles were brighter than the sun. "Perfect." Little dots of yellow parted his chocolate hair and caused it to stick out in some places.
The setting sun shone on Jean's skin making him glow, and its rays illuminated all of Marco's freckles. Jean couldn't help but stare at his beautiful boyfriend. The flowers, the setting sun, the two of them... it was a perfect moment.
Marco rested his head on Jean's shoulder and reached over to grab his hand, lacing their fingers together. He gave a little squeeze. "I love you Jean."
"I love you too Marco." Jean pressed a light kiss onto Marco's forehead.
The hospital monitor beeped steadily. Jean hated it. The continuous beeping, the constant reminder that his boyfriend was in the hospital. Being in the sterile room could cause tears, and even seeing the hospital building was enough to bring him to his knees.
"Marco?" Jean whispered, hoping for an answer. All he wanted to know was if he would be okay. Marco was asleep in the hospital bed, and Jean was watching the rise and fall of his chest like his life depended on it. He hadn't left the hospital since Marco was admitted.
Jean curled up on the white couch in Marco's room, he didn't dare leave the room and he had been in the hospital for four days. He hated the couch and the hospital food but didn't leave Marco's side.
Tears dripped down his cheeks. Why did this have to happen to him? Why not me? The trickling tears quickly turned into choked sobs. The silent room was broken with pained sobs, and occasional cussing. He covered his face with his hand, and muffled his crying. He didn't want Marco to see him like this if he woke up. All teary eyed and a mess.
Jean didn't know how much longer he could cope. If Marco didn't recover from his wound, he wouldn't be able to live anymore. Small speckles of dried blood were visible from Marco's hospital gown, drops covering his stomach. The doctors managed to remove the bullet, but he sustained life threatening injuries.
Doctor Zoë came into the room quietly, poking her head around the corner of the door before stepping inside. "Jean?"
Jean popped his head up with a sudden jolt and faced Doctor Zoë. He inhaled and wiped his red eyes. Jean asked with a broken voice, "Whats going on?" He was anxious, fiddling with his fingers probably gave it away.
"Dont worry, im only here to replace his I.V." Dr. Zoë clicked her pen and scribbled down some information on her clipboard as she checked his vitals. "You know he is doing a lot better Jean." She slipped the bag off of the hooked cart and replaced it with another saline filled bag.
"Really? Or are you just telling me that out of sympathy?" He snuffled and wiped his eyes again, tring to cover up his breakdown.
"Im not Jean, he really is doing better." She turned to face him for a moment while fidding around with a new set of sterile tubes.
Jean was silent, as much as he wanted to believe this, he just didn't trust people anymore. "Good." He stared at the ground, trying to avoid the doctor as much as he could. The white tiles made him sick, and the bright white reflecting the fluorescent from up above.
"Well," Doctor Zoë sighed, "I have some other patients to check up on, Marco is doing really well believe it or not, and if it makes you feel any better the man who shot him is in custody."
"Thank you." Was all Jean could manage to utter. He wansn't in the mood for talking, especially when his love was dying in a hospital bed in front of him.
The doctor left the room and the heavy door shut with a click. They were alone in silence again. Jean stared at Marco's face. His golden complexion was replaced with a pale white, and even his darkest freckles became lighter. Jean loved his freckles, they were everywhere on his body. He even counted once, Marco had one-hundred and three.
The night was long. Jean didnt sleep much, he spent most of his time singing Marco's favorite songs quietly and watching over him. Even though he didn't believe in a god, he even got on his knees and prayed. Marco was his everything.
The room was so quiet, almost too quiet. It was driving Jean to a point of insanity. When is he going to wake up? Jean thought. He awoke with a jolt, Marco. Marco was coughing.
"MARCO!" Jean yelled. He sprung forward, pushing the couch into the wall and flying towards his boyfriend. "Marco oh my god." He grabbed the sides of his face and stared at his beautiful freckles.
Marco squeezed his eyes shut and coughed again. "Jean? Where are we?!" His eyes widened in shock before he realized, they were in a hospital.
Jean didnt respond and instead flug his arms around Marco's neck. "I love you so much Marco. Dont ever forget that. I love you so, so, so much." Marco flinched in pain from the sudden clash of arms but didnt care, because something was obviously wrong.
"I love you too Jean, but where are we?" Jean broke the hug and sat next to the freckled boy on the hospital bed. Marco looked petrified.
"Well, if you havent figured it out by now we are in a hospital. Im sure you are a little foggy up there, do you remember anything?" Jean asked, staring into Marco's deep chocolate eyes and holding his frosty colored hands.
"Not much... all i remember... is buttercups. The yellow ones. That remind me of you." Marco tried to smile and turn further towards Jean, but winced.
Jean leaned forward and kissed Marco's forehead, hoping to comfort him. His skin was warm, almost feverish. "Yes, buttercups is the start, after we left the feild with our bouquet..." Jean started to tear up. His theoat became dry and he felt as if he were suffocating, although the room was filled with air.
"Jean?" Marco started to tear up. "What happened and why does my stomach hurt so much." Jean gripped the hospital bed sheets tightly with his free hand. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.
"As... as we were coming home through town with our flowers... a homophobic man shot you." Jean started to cry as well. Marco just sat there in silence, and mainly shock. Jean looked back at Marco. "I-I'm sorry." The tears became broken sobs once more.
"S-shot? Is that why..." Marco's fingers broke away from Jean's. He gulped and started to cry even more. Fearing what he would see, Marco lifted his hospital gown. A row of stitches crossed the skin where the doctors had cut.
Marco bit his lip and started to sob as he let go of his gown. "Im not going to be okay am I?" Marco turned towards Jean.
"No, no the doctors said you were doing fine. We will be fine." Jean grabbed Marco's hand and kissed his favorite freckle on the back of his hand. Marco leaned into Jean and his brown hair brushed Jean's jawline.
The two fell asleep in the twin sized hospital bed. Even though Jean was halfway off the edge, and had barely any blanket, this was the best sleep he had had since Marco was admitted. Marco was alive and he would be okay now.
Their heartbeats synced and Marco's shallow breathing became slightly stronger. Maybe seeing Jean and having an assured diagnosis gave him hope. Marco was the first to awake, he didnt move a muscle though. He knew by the purple half moons under Jeans eyes, that he hadn't slept soundly in a while.
Marco stared at Jean's beautiful peachy skin, oh how he loved kissing it. Jean was always so beautiful. He curled up farther into Jean's warm chest and inhaled the sweet scent of his clothes. He was scared of what would happen to him, he certainly didn't want to die, or leave Jean.
Marco pushed away the negative thoughts and instead focused on Jean. The sun's early rays were pushing through his sandy hair and made them appear golden. He stopped staring and went back to sleep, Jean wasnt the only one who was exhausted.
"Jean Kirstein?" A high pitched voice called out from the end of the bed. Jean slowly opened his eyes and yawned. Standing before Marco and him was a young woman dressed in nurses attire.
"Um, yes thats me?" Jean sat up as carefully as he could, trying not to awake the pale freckled boy. He crawled out of the bed and lazily stood up. Sandy hair askew and part of his gray shirt was hiked up on the side.
"I am Nurse Reiss, I see Marco has woken up. Can you tell me how he is doing? I really dont want to disturb him." She pulled out another white plastic clipboard and black pen. The same ones Doctor Zoë had.
"Oh, of course yeah..." Jean scratched his head and the sandy strands became ruffled. "Well, all he remembers is that we were picking buttercups, and his head is really warm." Jean tried to tell the nurse as much as he could, he wanted Marco to be okay.
The nurse filled her clipboard with details about Marco's health. Jean even saw a segment about his reaction to the stitches and emotional health. He guessed it was good for the nurse to know everything.
"Okay, ill have Doctor Zoë come and check on him later when he is awake." Nurse Reiss said. She exited the room and the heavy metal door latched shut with another loud click. Jean crawled back into bed and Marco latched himself onto his arm. Jean was thankful his love was alive and breathing.
A few hours later Marco awoke. Jean was still laying next to him, but he wasnt sleeping, he was recounting the pale freckles that dotted his face. "Good morning sleepy head." Jean leaned down and kissed Marco's soft skin.
"Good morning." Marco smiled, but it wasnt as bright as the day in the meadow. His eyes seemed dull too. He groaned as the stitches that crossed his stomach stretched, the paint seemed to be worse than before.
Jean heard the little wince, "Marco, are you okay?" He looked genuinely concerned.
"A lot, frankly, it feels terrible." He stared at Jean who had grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers once more. "Im really hungry, but im not sure if i am able to stand or eat."
"I dont want you to try anything without doctors approval, I dont need you hurt any more. I can go get Doctor Zoë." Jean waited for an answer from Marco. "Will you be okay?"
"Yeah, I can manage." Marco whispered. He tried to sit up but instead yelped and slouched back down, sinking into the sterile pillows. Jean leaned forward to help Marco prop himself up. This time it was nearly painless because Marco was so focused on Jean's soft touch.
"I will be right back, dont try anything." Jean smiled and gave a playful glare before sitting up. It took a lot of courage to get up and walk out of that room. He would be helping Marco, but he was also giving up the protection he provided him.
He approached the heavy set of iron doors, they seemed a lot bigger and heavier now that he was face to face with them. The cold metal handle seemed even heavier. This was difficult for Jean to leave Marco, especially after he just awoke.
A gust of warm wind blew against his face as the doors were hauled open. One foot after another, Jean crossed the threshold and entered the hallway. Nurses with identical clipboards and name pins were frantically walking down hallways. A girl in a wheelchair rolled around a corner as well, and a Doctor shouting orders for a stabbing victim could be heard a few units away.
The sudden change in temperature caused goosebumps to form on jean's skin. The squeak of his shoes on the white tile was very annoying as he walked towards the hospital cafeteria, but there was nothing he could do about it. Doctor Zoë wasn't anywhere in sight either, but little food couldnt hurt Marco... right?
Sitting at a gray table in the cafeteria was a girl with brown hair, and the thinnest arms Jean had ever seen. Her ribs were slightly poking through the thin fabric of her gown as well. Jean had overheard from gossiping nurses in the hallways that her name was Sasha Brauss and that she had some sort of eating disorder.
He wanted to talk to her, but he had no time. Just being away from Marco for the smallest amount of time sent waves of anxiety pulsing through his body. He approached the meal line, the only things on the menu were mashed potatoes with some sort of gray gravy, and some vegetable stock soup.
Jean waited in line, and waited, and waited. Thoughts flooded his mind. Would Marco be okay? What if he is dead? What about his fever? Jean lost track of time and started to space out, before he knew it the server was barking at him about what he wanted to order.
"Oh! Sorry, um, ill take the stock soup." Jean's face became hot from embarrassment and his hands started to shake at the thought of his poor Marco. The soup was handed to him on a cold, steel gray tray, but the soup was in a styrofoam cup. The spoon was encased in a plastic wrapper too.
How did people stand to eat this stuff?! Jean thought. His fingers left little prints on the edge of the tray. His steps were wobbly as he walked back towards Marco's room. Counting the steps to go. Ten steps. Nine steps. Eight steps. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two.
He held the metal tray in one hand like a waiter at a fancy restaurant, but much more low class and sleep deprived, and pushed the door open. "Marco, I'm back...Marco?" The sound of the flatlining heart monitor stopped Jean's own heart.
Instead of walking in and being greeted by his freckled boyfriend, the ominous tone of the flatline blared. "MARCO!" Jean cried out, the plate and hot stock soup crashed to the ground as Jean screamed and sprinted forward.
The tone was blaring is Jean's ears, and got louder, and louder. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he gripped Marco's face and shook it violently. Jean was screaming at the top of his lungs, it felt like his vocal cords were being ripped out of his throat.
"HELP! I NEED A DOCTOR NOW! HELP ME FOR FUCKS SAKE!" Jean screamed. Passing doctors and nurses flooded into the room, one doctor who Jean didn't recognize was clutching a defibrillator.
Jean kept screaming and crying out for Marco, but the flatlining tone kept screaming back. "HE IS DEAD. MARCO IS DEAD!" Security came and grabbed Jean's wrists, pulling him away from his lifeless love. "NO YOU CANT DO THIS! SOMEBODY HELP HIM!"
He was hauled out into the hall by the guards, blinded by the bright light and choked by tears and thick, hot air. He kept yelling and kicking the guards, trying to get back to Marco. Just as the metal door was slammed shut he heard a Doctor say...
"Clear!"