Sealed Your Fate [JASON]

[caleb andrew winston]

I hate hospitals. I always have, still do, and I probably always will. When you're in a hospital, 99% of the time, it's bad news. The other 1% is people having kids. Everything is so cold, white, clinical. Even the lighting is enough to drive a person insane. It's so pale, so fluorescent, that it could make even the healthiest person look on the verge of death. The artificially friendly doctors and nurses, the uncomfortable waiting rooms, the unnecessary hustle and bustle ... everything about hospitals just drives me up the wall.

I'd only ever been in a hospital four times. The first was when I was really young, so I don't really remember anything except for the flat line on my dad's EEG. The second time, I remember a lot more clearly. That was actually me, although it was only for a few days. It was just after the attack that changed me, that landed me here. It'd been the most boring, horrible experience that I'd ever had to endure. I'd been glad to leave, glad to never have to go back. At least, not for a while, not until I was older. But oh, how wrong I'd been. Last week had been a harsh wake up call, reminding me that I was not immune. That people around me weren't either.

Which comes back to the reason I was there today. One phone call. One fucking phone call. I'd understand if I had a definitive answer to my main question. Is he okay? No, all I'd gotten was that I was needed. Like, ASAP. That was extraordinarily helpful. Of course I'd know what to expect once I got there with that. Not. For god's sake, was a bit more detail too much to ask? Apparently so! Now, I had no idea what was waiting for me once I got to that wretched place. And, quite frankly... I was terrified.

Yes, you read that correctly. Terrified.

I didn't get scared. I didn't think I'd ever been scared in my life, not even when I found out how my dad really died, not even when I found out that I'd changed. No, I didn't get scared. But now? I was petrified. Petrified that something had gone wrong. That he wasn't here anymore. That he was gone. What if that was the case? What would I do? Because, if I was honest, that kid was half of my life, even if we were only brothers. I'd pretty much raised him, for God's sake - I even took shit from a werewolf because of that boy. If he were to die? What on earth would that do to me, to mum? I dreaded to think.

And then if he lived. It still wouldn't be the same. He was eleven. He was a child. He'd be stuck that way forever, outwardly. And even though he'd be with me longer, if he was going to outlive me like he should have done in the first place, what would he be like? Would he have changed in any way, personality wise? Because I had a bit. I was more pessimistic, more bitter, even though I was still me. That was the main point, I guessed. He'd still be him, even if he had changed. If. If he hadn't died by then.

But, of course, Jason had been right. Surely. He was going to live, he had to. He couldn't die so early, because I wouldn't let him. Eleven years old was absolutely ridiculous. He shouldn't have even been bitten in the first place - from what I recalled, it was illegal. Being bitten was a huge misfortune in itself, as I knew all too well. To die from it? That was just unfair. And if God was fair, like most people said he was, then why would he let my brother die in such a painful and morbid way?

Why let it happen in the first place, though. There was an awful, pessimistic little voice in my head telling me that he wasn't going to make it. That he was only young. That his body would be able to handle it. And, even though I was trying to push this as far away from my mind as possible, I knew it was true. I knew that the odds of survival for Joseph were not looking good in the slightest. I knew that being optimistic about it would only lead to more disappointment and grief than if I was expecting it.

Thus, call me a bit of a downer, but I prepared myself for the worst, knowing that was probably the reason I'd been called down here. I still hadn't spotted my mum anywhere. She was probably in some room somewhere with a nurse, talking about what happens now that they'd failed, that I'd failed. I promised myself I would take care of that kid with everything I had, and for what. Only to have him die eleven years after that. It wasn't enough time. It felt wrong. I felt like I'd taken the kid for granted, even though I knew I hadn't. No, not really.

So here I was. Sat in one of the chairs in the waiting area, unable to keep still, just staring at the wall. If I'm honest, although I'd been a bit reluctant about Jason coming in the first place, his presence beside me was a comfort, like it had been the other day. I didn't know what to expect, so neither did he. Which as what made it so nice of him to go. Even if he'd felt obligated, even if it was just because we were best friends... it was still something that got me. Because, well, I hadn't even asked. And that, in my head, was what real friendship was.

I skittered over to the first doctor I saw come out of the little side room that Joe was in, letting go of Jason's hand for just a moment. A decision I would probably regret, but not one that I couldn't make. I didn't want to send the poor boy flying was I ran over. That wouldn't exactly have been the best thing I could have done. I didn't quite know how to verbalise my question, so I just gave him a look and said "How is he?" He didn't say anything. Just nodded, with a look of his own in his eyes.

And, at that moment, I could have sworn I felt time slow.

"Fuck," I muttered, my eyes wide as the doctor walked away. I walked back myself, my steps slow. There wasn't any spring in them. There was nothing. Nothing but a stance that wouldn't have been uncommon to see on a shell-shocked soldier. I sat down heavily in the seat that I'd been in before, placing my head in my hands, as if that would help me process what I'd just been told. Every synapse in my brain was alight. So many thoughts were racing around my mind that I didn't know what to think, what to say. I felt sick. I couldn't keep up with my own mind.

So, I sat up straight, and glanced at Jason, my eyes still wide and surprised. He deserved something, not just me, sitting there without a word. He probably wanted to know what was going on. If I was okay. Which... if I was honest, I really didn't know. I didn't know what to feel about it. There were too many emotions running through me to fathom into an explanation of my feelings. I doubted I could even get this out properly. So... So maybe I should just take it one step at a time.

So, with a quiet voice and a sigh, I merely said "He made it."

Outfit: Clicky!
Tagged: Jaaaaaace~
Notes: <333
Lyrics: The Reckless and The Brave by All Time Low