Is This Enough ||MxM || Lgbtq+

Epilogue

Wesley's P.O.V

I clipped Rufus's leash to his collar and rushed him to the car. Traffic signs blurred past, I didn't care. I drove like my world was ending, because maybe it was.

At the hospital, my sneakers squealed across the tile as I hurried through the sliding doors with Rufus at my side. I reached the front desk, panting.

"Excuse me. I'm Wesley Conan. Has Vinnie been admitted here? Please."

The man behind the desk barely looked up. "Have a seat. Someone will be with you shortly."

"But are they here? Vinnie and Leonardo. Are they alright?"

"Take a seat, sir," he said, firmer now, eyes sliding back to his screen.

Obeying him, I sat. The news whispered from a mounted TV. Rufus pressed close on the seat beside me, his fur warm under my hand. Around us, families huddled together in silence, their faces hollowed by grief.

Then, shouting. Paramedics burst through the lobby doors. I turned to the TV.

"Sir, could you turn that up?" I asked. He nodded and raised the volume.

Please don't let this be real.

"A collision on the M56 caused a massive explosion, killing at least two and injuring more than sixty. A tanker carrying petroleum gas ignited after impact, triggering a fireball that destroyed several vehicles and left a crater on the highway..."

My breath caught. I fell from my chair, the coffee spilling down my sleeve.

"No," I whispered. "No. No. No."

"Sir, calm down. This is a hospital," the receptionist snapped.

Calm down? I staggered to my feet, trembling. "My friends might be dead and you—"

I fumbled out my phone, flipping to the photo app, and turned to the waiting room.

"Someone, please. Do you recognize them? Their names are Leonardo and Vinnie. Anyone?"

Some people flinched. Others looked away.

"You," I said, pointing to an old man with a walker. "You've seen them. Haven't you?"

"N-no," he stammered, shrinking into his seat.

I took a step toward him but stopped myself. My hands clenched at my sides.

"You don't understand. They're all I have. I just need to know."

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the receptionist press a button on the intercom.

"Security to the north wing," he murmured. "Angry Black male, seemingly unstable."

I froze. Rage coursed through my veins. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing, sir. I need you to sit down."

"Don't call me 'sir.' You don't know what this feels like. You don't know what it's like to lose your best friends and just sit here. . . waiting."

My voice cracked. I turned away, shoulders heaving, as a choked sob escaped me. Two security guards approached in navy uniforms.

"Sir, we're going to need you to come with us."

"No! don't touch me! My dog. Rufus he stays with me!"

One guard gently approached Rufus while the other took my arm, firm but not rough. They led us through a quiet corridor into a small blue room with a slanted window high on the wall.