Chapter 27: Dying Inside

Chapter 27

Eros Dylan Donovan

Dying Inside

Mike is still unconscious as we bring him to the hospital. He's currently lying on the bed and people take a step back when they see us in a rush. According to one of the nurses, his heart is still beating so low, and we could lose Mike. No, I don't want that to happen. I would die from the heartache. I still need Mike in my life. I want to have him, to claim him as mine. Mike's breathing is slow, and his chest is slightly heaving up and down. The nurse had put a cloth on Mike's body, mostly to the part where he got shot, to prevent the blood from pouring out. So far, it has stopped. But that doesn't mean he's safe now. He looks paler than ever, like he has no blood at all. When you look at him, it's like a blood doesn't flow in his body at all. He's lifeless. Basically dead. Alive but basically dead.

A doctor comes rushing in our way and asks different questions that I can't understand because I'm too busy looking at Mike, hoping that he would wake up and tell me everything is fine and there is no need to worry about. When he hugged me earlier, I was so happy, until I noticed that he got shot and my heart shattered at the sight of him shutting his eyes, as if he's letting go of his life. I realize I'm crying until the nurses slightly push me away. I almost yell at them, but they explain to me that they need to do this alone, or something like that, and head inside the Emergency Room. That, I notice, when I look up and see it.

Kicking the wall, people look at me like I'm a retard, but then their expressions turn into sympathy as they look at me. I do not want their sympathy. I only want Mike. Fisting my heads, I involuntarily take a seat on one of the chairs of the hospital. Typical blue chairs. And then sigh, my heart beating rapidly against my chest as my mind plays a lot of memories of Mike. He was so happy back then. He was a brat. Tears are still flowing down my cheeks, and even if I brush them away, they just continue to flow down. I try to be brave, like what Mike did, but no, I just can't. My heart is aching for him, longing for him, wanting to see him. It's like a torture to me, to feel that I cannot do anything for him, to protect him. I failed the latter. If I was able to protect him, he wouldn't have been in this situation, lying lifeless.

The doctor that I've seen earlier comes out of Emergency Room and I shot out of my seat and walk towards him, to ask him questions. But he just raises his hand and I shut my mouth.

"He has lost a lot of blood, we need a donor." He just says calmly. "His blood type is AB. Would you like to find a donor?" My ears perk up as I hear that Mike's blood type is AB. My blood is AB.

"Doc, my blood type is AB. I'm allowed." I say quickly, nervousness eating up my whole body.

There's a big lump forming at the back of my throat, and it's hard for me to swallow. My breathing is uneven, like I'm running out of breath, but I know that this is because I'm kind of exhausted, plus Mike needs my help.

"Okay, so let's check," the doctor says as he leads me to one of the rooms. "By the way, my name is Doctor Clifford Zuta,"

Dr. Zuta extends his hand for me to shake it and I gladly accept it, feeling welcome. He motions for me to sit and I do. Dr. Zuta motions to one of the nurses and a girl with a petite body runs over to us, eyeing me like I'm a goddamn meat. I feel so protective about myself. The only person who can have my body is Mike. No one else.

The girl has a blonde hair, in a ponytail style, that is shoulder level. She has this blue blue eyes, short eyelashes, and her lips are painted with light pink lipstick. She's wearing a blue scrub suit and her attire hugs her body well, showing her curves and kind of big hips and butt. But I'm not interested in her anyway.

"Hi, my name is Glen, one of the nurses," Glen says as she offers her hand to me and I take it hesitantly. She gives me a smile. "I'll be the one to collect the blood, so just lay down and let me do the rest. Just take a deep breath, exhale, and then relax. Okay?" I nod at her.

Glen begins to insert the needle at my forearm, my eyes twitching as she does it. It kind of hurts a little. When I was a little kid, I used to be afraid of needles, because it seemed like a deadly weapon to me, until one day, when I had been brought to a hospital because I was really sick; high fiver, dry throat, heavy coughing, they stuck an IV to my forearm. I got used to it.

My body immediately relaxes as my head flashes an image of Mike smiling at me. The image has filled my heart with happiness and hope. I shut my eyes, feeling tired and exhausted just because of donating the blood. I look at my side and find the blood bag being filled up by my blood. And in any seconds, the deep slumber is overtaking my body, knocking me out.

+++

I wake up, still feeling tired and exhausted but much better now. Dr. Zuta comes into view as he takes in my condition. He sighs.

"You still need sleep, Mr. Donovan." He says, gesturing me to lay down still. I do. "We need to do an immediate surgery on Mike, since the bullet has grazed the nerve. It would take 5-8 hours. Consider it lucky that the bullet did not graze his spinal cord, just the nerve, so we are still able to do a surgery. So are you related to him?"

I shake my head, then nod. Dr. Zuta looks at me with a confused expression and I speak up, my voice hoarse.

"I'm his boyfriend,"

Dr. Zuta takes in the information and I wait if he has something to say anything that is inappropriate. If he goes homo to me, I'd punch him in the face repeatedly. Instead, he just nods and doesn't make a fuss about it.

"Well, Mr. Donovan," he says, clasping his hand, rubbing it. "I suggest you contact his parents so they would know what's happening. We need them here, okay?" He says, nodding his head at me. I give him a faint smile and nod. "Excuse me, Mr. Donovan, I have yet to check what's the condition of Mr. Hollister. See you later." I almost say I want to see him, but I know Dr. Zuta would just say Mike needs rest so I restrain myself from saying it.

So I do what he suggested. I don't have Mike's parents number. Well, his father's number. But he's in other country right now. So the last option here is Mel. I fish my cellphone inside my pocket and decide to give Mel a call. As soon as I open up my Contacts application, Mel's name greets me. She's on the favorite list. So I remove her and then give her a call.

Of course, it reaches a voicemail.

I never leave a voicemail though. If she can't pick up, she won't have any details. So I try to give Mike's friends a call. Noah first. I got his number from Mike's phone, when someone was calling him, and I took a picture on it and saved Noah's number on my phone. Mike doesn't know about this. In seconds, he picks up and his light manly voice greets me.

"Hi, this is Noah speaking." He greets, but not enthusiastically. I guess I have somehow disturbed him.

"Hi, um," I reply awkwardly, not knowing what to say. So I dig in for words inside my head and try to compose some words and say it to him. "Uh, so this is Eros. Mike's um, friend? Or step-father. Or boyfriend, um, sorry. So he is in the, um, hospital right now?"

Typical question. "What?!" Noah asks, almost shouting at me. "What happened? Where is this hospital?"

"I'll answer your questions as soon as you get here," I say. "Right now, he's confined in Winsfield Hospital."

"Okay. I'll be right there in, let's say, 15 minutes." Then he hangs up, not waiting for me to reply. I hope Noah gives his father a call, because I don't to hear his worried voice. It might make me cry. He could remind me that I have failed Mike. I did fail him. But I'm staying out of negativity.

Despite Dr. Zuta's request for me not to enter Mike's room, I still do.

Mike is lying lifeless on the bed, his eyes shut softly and his lips are slightly parted. The color of his skin and lips are pale. I whimper as I see his condition right now. This is because of me. If I wasn't so caught up in finding the TPG gang, he wouldn't have been in this state.

I walk over to him, take a seat, and take his hand in mine, kissing the back of it, tears slowly flowing down my cheeks.

"Mike, please, wake up." I beg, whispering as I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. "I don't want to lose you, Mike. I love you. So much. I just realized it now, Mike. Please," I beg and plead, saying soft words, saying how sorry I am.

But despite this, there's no response.

And it feels like my heart is being crushed pieces by pieces until I fall asleep with my head resting on Mike's chest, mine holding his hand.