Scared

Chapter 23

It was cold and the air was crispy out.

Mimi had climbed up to the roof to get some fresh hair.

She sat down near the edge, not close enough to fall, but close enough she could see the cars and lights below.

She exhaled, head threw back, as she looked at the starry sky. John loved stars.

She brought a cigarette up to her mouth with a sigh.

She was thinking about quitting work to take care of John full time if he couldn't fully recover.

Paul had tried to talk her out of it, claiming he could be the one taking care of him, but she straight up refused, "You just started working, Paul. No, you can't quit now" she had insisted.

She had gotten angry with him a little and had walked there to have a little alone time.

"Mimi"

She turned around, staring at the figure coming closer. Paul sighed, sitting next to her.

She took a cigarette out of the package, handing it to him as he accepted it with a soft thanks.

"How is he? Is he sleeping?" she asked, not looking at him. Paul hummed, "He is. He was thirsty and I helped him drink a bit of water" he explained.

He was tired and overwhelmed, afraid of being a burden to their lives.

Paul loved him very much, but he was afraid. Afraid of him being only a caretaker to John and not a boyfriend anymore.

But he wouldn't give up on him.

He loved him. He wanted to be there for him, be a lover or a caretaker.

They decided to walk back into the room, stubbing their cigarettes out before making their way side by side.

"Where were you?" whispered John, eyes wide as he looked up as the two entered the room.

He was a bit more coherent, but he was still very weak.
The doctor was closely monitoring him, but had allowed some physiotherapy.

John had been very confused, but hadn't complained as long as Paul and Mimi were there with him.

Sadly, Paul was going to be at work at that time, but John had been reassured by the presence of Mimi.

"We were smoking a cigarette and having a chat" softly said Mimi, sitting down next to him.

"Cigarettes are bad for your health, auntie" scolded John, letting her pull him up into a sitting position. Paul rushed over to put the pillows under his back to not make him fall.

John's hands were weak, so were his legs and he was tired only by holding his head up and his eyes open.

"I know, my boy, but you don't have to worry about us, alright? You have to try and get better, okay?" said gently Paul, brushing his hair away from his face.

John nodded, wincing at the movement. His eyes were burning and his arm hitched from the many needles in it.

He started whining and moving around, eyes slipping close and lungs burning. He coughed a little, then some more.

A glass was pressed to his lips, the cool water sliding down his throat like a blessing.

"Shhhh, everything is better now" was whispering a voice into his ear and a hand was tracing circles on his back.

John pushed away the glass with weak shaky hands, drool mixed to water rolling down from the corner of his lip.

Paul softly wiped it away, climbing back into the bed and wrapping his arms around his body, pushing him against his own chest.