Chapter Thirty – Ross
Harper was unconscious again. He wasn't on life support, but he was struggling to breathe on his own and was on oxygen. The doctors upped the IVs, gave him even stronger doses of antibiotics and steroids, and he was under constant observation. They told us they were doing everything they could, but that they really didn't know if he would pull through.
"I was talking to him just this morning," I said numbly.
The doctor nodded. "Sometimes changes can happen really fast. I promise that Harper isn't in any pain right now, we just have to hope that his immune system isn't damaged enough that we can't help him fight it off."
"How long until we know if he's going to be okay?" Jasper asked, letting me switch off my attention and turn back to see Harper. We were allowed in for now, but the doctor said that if his condition worsened they would need to transfer him to an intensive care unit.
It felt so wrong to see Harper's face not smiling, but solemn and serious, his eyes closed and his arms down by his side. It didn't feel like he was real. It was as though a lifesize doll of Harper was lying there, completely empty and unaware, and the real Harper would walk in at any moment and laugh at me.
"If he wakes up, I'm going to kill him," Edward muttered, standing next to me. He had a full face of makeup still, but was wearing his regular clothes. It was a bizarre sight. He eyed me. "Not going to run away again, are you?"
"I wouldn't dare," I gestured to his clenched fists. "What about you, hm? Going to finally tell Harper you've been in love with him for a decade, or what?"
Edward shot me a foul look. "We tried dating, it didn't work, drop it."
"That was seven years ago," I reminded him, and then sighed. "Maybe you should just try going for it again. Who knows, maybe you'd actually work out this time."
"I cannot believe you are giving me dating advice," Edward said bluntly. Jasper was still talking to the doctor, so he quietly asked, "What about you two?"
"We aren't dating," I replied.
"Yeah, I'm not blind," he replied sarcastically. "I meant what are you going to do in the future, like when he goes off to uni? Are you going to keep things going, or what?"
I didn't want to think about that, but it beat thinking about Harper, so I replied, "No. I doubt it, anyway. We aren't romantic partners, we're just... who we are." Seeing his sceptical expression, I said, "He said he loves me, Ed. I can't return that-"
"You won't return that," he corrected.
"Whichever it is, it's not feasible, at least not now," I said firmly. "He needs to go and enjoy his time at uni, fuck around, have a life. And I need to sort my shit out. Maybe one day, we'll figure it out, but right now, it's not going to work."
Edward considered my words, and said, "I think you're right."
"You do?" I asked.
"Yeah," he nodded. "It's kind of like me and Harper. Back then, he was dealing with accepting his illness, figuring out what he wanted to do in life. I was enjoying my life in the clubs, working my way up in the drag world. We found each other, and we cared for each other, but... it wasn't time. It wasn't our time."
I nodded. "And this isn't our time."
"When are you going to talk to him about it?" Edward asked.
I cringed at the thought. "Once Harper is better," I said firmly. "I'm not doing anything until Harper is better. I can't deal with all of it at once - I need him to be okay before I do anything."
"Fine," Edward said.
Jasper came over, and said to me, "The doc says only one of us can stay at a time, just in case things go south and they need fast access to him."
"I'll stay," Edward said quickly. "I want to stay."
I wanted to argue, but I took one look at Jasper's exhausted face, and nodded. "Okay," I said, and put my arm around Jasper. "Let's go home. Ed, I'll be back in the morning, okay? Call me if anything changes."
"I will," Edward kissed us goodbye, and we headed out towards the car park. It was dark; we'd left the club almost immediately after Jenny had found us and it was nearing midnight now. We got into the car, and both of us exhaled as though we'd been holding our breath the entire time we were in there.
"You okay?" Jasper asked.
"Unsure," I replied, and looked at him. "You?"
"Unsure, also," Jasper nodded, and settled back into his chair. "I feel like I could sleep for a year."
I nodded, and started the car. "Me too." I pulled out of the parking space, and drove off. We drove in silence, too tired to think about talking. My head kept whirling around, thinking of Harper, thinking of Jasper, thinking of the future. It was overwhelming, thinking about how uncertain everything was right now, and how much they could all change if Harper didn't make it through the night.
I parked in the car park for the building, and we both silently walked into the building, waiting for the lift. I keyed in the code, and we zipped up to the apartment. It felt weird, too quiet, but I knew that neither of us really knew what to say. It felt wrong to be here, to be acting like any other night, while Harper lay unconscious in a hospital bed.
"You get ready for bed," I told Jasper. He nodded and went through to the bedroom, but he just sat on the bed and didn't move. "Jasper?" I asked, attracting his attention. "You have to actually get ready to go to sleep."
"Fine," he said, but didn't do anything. I finally smiled at his reluctant expression, and sat down next to him on the bed. I gently lifted his hands in the air and murmured to keep them there, before I pulled on his shirt and lifted it up and over his head. I softly kissed his bare chest, placing the shirt on the bed next to us, and then pushed him carefully so he was lying down. I unbuckled his belt, and unzipped his jeans so I could pull them off too. When he was in his underwear, I threw open the covers and told him to get comfortable.
"I'll make you some tea," I said, wondering how I'd gone from being a coffee-loving single man to making tea for my partner who was currently in some form of shock. I turned around, trying to keep my thoughts away from Harper, and then I heard him speak.
"Don't go."
I looked over my shoulder. "You don't want tea?"
"I don't want to be alone," he said, looking up at me with sorrowful eyes. I sighed, unable to resist them, and sat back down on the bed. He sat up and gently pushed my hair out of my eyes, and then kissed me gently, pressing his lips to mine.
"Jasper, you're upset," I said, pushing him away from me.
He frowned. "So?" When he caught my meaning, he said, "I want to be close to you. Do you want to be close to me?"
I hesitated, but I nodded. I wanted it more than anything else. I wanted to kiss him. "Ross," Jasper murmured, kissing me again. Everything flew away as his arms went around me in a familiar way, every other thought that was in my mind disappeared as he pulled me on top of him. I kissed his lips, his jaw, the base of his neck. I heard him sigh in content as I kissed his chest, and then felt his fingers running through my hair. I momentarily pulled back so I could take my clothes off, but Jasper stopped me.
"I'll do it," he whispered, and started unbuttoning my shirt. I closed my eyes and imagined that nothing else existed except for me and Jasper. I shivered as his fingers lightly traced my skin as they always did; he knew I couldn't resist it. He pulled my shirt off, and I felt his lips kiss my stomach softly. I opened my eyes and looked at him as he pulled at my belt buckle. He was so beautiful. He really did love me regardless of everything I did and said. I never wanted him to leave.
I blinked in astonishment as I thought that; I didn't want him to leave. I looked down, trying not to overreact to my own thoughts, and wondered why I so scared of that feeling. I wanted him to stay so badly, it hurt. I knew, when the time came, I'd make him go to London because he needed to experience other things. He was so new to a world that accepted and loved him, and he needed to find his feet in it, but for now, this was enough. It would be enough until he had to go, and when he left I would have to keep a tight hold on this feeling of happiness.
"Jasper," I murmured.
He looked up at me with dark blue eyes, framed with his beautiful blonde eyelashes. "Mm?"
"I..." I hesitated, gently pushing tufts of blonde hair out of his eyes. "I care for you. More than I have ever cared for anyone before."
He attempted a smile, and kissed my stomach again. "I love you, Ross, even if you are dysfunctional as a romantic human being."
****
The following morning, I took the first shift with Harper. Edward went home after some arguments, and I made sure to text Raven and say he was being difficult so she would go and check in on him later. I sat by Harper's bedside and waited.
It was so much harder than last time. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, and his body twitched unnaturally every so often. He murmured, groaning in pain despite the medications, shivering one moment and then boiling hot the next. I wiped his forehead with a cool cloth, trying to bring his temperature down myself, as though the multitudes of IV fluids weren't working hard to do that.
I held his hand. I hadn't held hands for longer than a couple of minutes with someone since I was a kid, but now I clung to his hand for hours. I felt like a kid. It felt like I was pretending to be an adult, and I hadn't quite figured out how to do it. Nurses came in every fifteen minutes to check his pulse, oxygen sats, temperature, and blood pressure. I asked every single time if he was okay. Some of them were impatient and busy, replying sharply and moving on. Some of them were kind, and told me he was hanging in there, working hard.
"How long until we know if he's going to be okay?" I asked one of them.
The nurse put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Harper's going strong, he's fighting it hard. We'll know by the end of the day if he's showing improvement, okay?"
I nodded, hanging onto that thought. We'd know by the end of the day if he was improving. His temperature was so high, I had no idea that a person could get that warm. Surely he was boiling alive inside, roasting from the inside out. I reapplied the cool cloth quickly, hearing him sigh slightly in relief.
He didn't get better. His temperature persisted. He started turning pale, the colour sucking straight out of him like he was being drained of blood. I was terrified. I called the others to keep them informed, and I must have sounded freaked out, because they were all in the waiting room next time I went to get a drink. Jasper gave me a hug, trying to keep me calm, but I needed to rush back to Harper's side.
"Hi," I greeted the doctor, who was checking Harper's IVs. "Sorry, I was just getting a drink - is there any change?"
The doctor looked solemn, and I felt my heart sink. "He... he's not doing well," the doctor said, her face full of empathy and concern. "I'm very sorry, but I'm not sure Harper's body is up to fighting this. We're doing everything we can right now, but we have to prepare for the possibility of him not making it through this."
My breath caught in my throat and I nodded, stumbling towards the door. I walked into the waiting room and blurted out, "He's getting worse."
Jenny managed to get the information out of me, and she replaced me by Harper's bedside. The others wanted to help me, I knew, but they were going through the exact same thing I was. Harper was going to die, in a hospital bed, without any way of saying goodbye to us, and we had no way of stopping it.
"He can't die," I whispered.
Jasper's hand tightened on mine. Cyri and Rory had shown up, too. They didn't have as strong a connection to Harper, so they were able to rush around making sure we weren't slipping into shock. They'd brought warm blankets and bottles of water and were handing them out like they were greeting us at the end of a race.
"Hey, Red," I managed to say, as Cyri tucked a blanket around me. "You ever get tired of looking after people?"
"No," she smiled, and then handed me a bottle of water. "Drink up, or I'll rip your balls off."
"Nice," I chuckled slightly, and was surprised to hear the noise. Cyri looked pleased at the sound, and patted me on the head as I wrenched the top off the bottle and drank some water. Suddenly, I heard a loud series of beeps from the ward, and we all looked over in horror as nurses and a doctor piled into the room. Jenny came rushing out, clearly not allowed to stay, and she ran into Lucie's arms, crying.
"He's s-seizing," she stammered, her face ashen. "I've n-never seen anything like it, oh God..." She dissolved into tears. I tried to stand, to run over to the ward's window, to see what was happening, but my legs had lost the ability to do what I wanted them to. I think everyone felt the same, because no one moved, rooted to the spot. It felt like if any of us moved, time would restart and he would die. If we didn't move, he would be okay. He had to be okay.
It was only three and a half minutes that we had to wait, but it felt like days. My heart thumped painfully against my chest. I was soaked in sweat and fear. Edward hadn't taken his head out of his hands since Jenny had left the ward, as though he wasn't there if he didn't look up.
The beeping stopped. My chest tightened. The door opened, and a tired-looking doctor emerged. We all looked at him, dreading his answer to our unasked question. He took a deep breath and said, "He's hanging in there. You've got a very stubborn friend."
It felt like oxygen rushed into my head all at once, and I leaned back in my chair, completely overtaken by the feeling of relief. Harper wasn't dead yet. He was going strong. We weren't allowed back in yet, as he was under observation constantly now. It felt like they weren't just waiting for him to die, they were trying to force him to live.
"Come on, Harper," I heard Edward murmur under his breath. "Please. Keep going."
And he did. His temperature came down after a few hours. His breathing evened out. His oxygen sats increased. His blood pressure lowered. His skin flooded with colour and lost the oily sheen. After another hour, the nurses left him to rest peacefully, going back to regular check-ins rather than constant observation. We were allowed back in. We were all allowed to stay.
Around seven in the morning, he opened his eyes. Eyeing the rest of us, he spoke with a hoarse, cracked voice, but it was unmistakably him. His lips pulled up into a smile, and he said, "You all look like shit."
Harper was alive.
Harper was so very, very alive.
****
So. I have something to say.
Ten years ago, I killed off Harper, and everyone was (understandably) devastated. Back then, it was right for the story, for how I had set the characters up, for how the story had progressed.
But the thing is, this is a rewrite. This is a different story, with better characters and better plotlines...and I've changed a lot as a writer. I've been put through the 'bury your gays' cliche (the trope where TV shows and books kill off gay characters rather than let them be happy) countless times.
So I decided that no, I will not be doing that again.
This time, Harper lives.
Love, Cam. x