It's Okay

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Y/N POV

I ran up to the front desk of the hospital, out of breath and nearly stumbling over my platforms.

"M-my husband brought my son into the hospital I-I don't think more than an hour ago, John Singer, what-what room is he in?" I asked, trembling.

She looked at her computer for a moment, frowning.

"It looks like he's in room 318 on the third floor and--"

I didn't bother to hear the rest of what she had said, I had already sprinted off. I could feel my heart pounding, could barely catch my breath, all I wanted to do was hold John in my arms, to know he was safe, to know my baby was safe. I found the appropriate room and flung open the door, practically collapsing into Eric's arm. He caught me, pulling me against his chest and holding me tight.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, he's okay," he murmured, kissing me. "He's okay, it's okay."

Chest heaving, I looked at John, who was sitting happily on his hospital bed, playing with some toy cars.

"What's wrong? Why did you bring him here?" I asked, tears spilling over, but whether I was crying from fear or relief I couldn't tell.

"Bruce and I were playing with him, he was trying to walk more while playing with his toys, and Bruce said that something seemed wrong, that John had gone pale and quiet and sweaty so he put a hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat and it was going too fast so I brought him here, the doctor checked him out and things were back to normal with his heart by the time they got to him, they want to keep him for a bit to monitor him and they'll put him on some medication to prevent it from happening in the future."

"So he's okay?" I whispered.

He nodded, stroking my hair.

"He's just fine. It can just be a side affect of open heart surgery, sometimes it takes awhile to show up. They'll put him on medication for a few months, then ween him off as time goes on. But he'll be just fine," he murmured.

"Ohh my gosh," I said softly, still in shock, clinging to Eric as if my life depended on it.

He continued to hold me tight, stroking my hair. John sat on the bed still playing with his toy cars, heedless to the fact anything was wrong.

"That's twice now," I said after a pause.

"What is?"

"That Bruce has saved his life. That's twice now."

Eric nodded, letting out a shuddery breath.

"He's a good friend. A very good friend."

"Ma-ma?" John asked, looking at me. "Sa?"

I forced a smile, trying to wipe away my tears.

"No, no, not sad!" I lied. "Just tired from my concert. How are you feeling, hm?" I asked, walking over and sitting on the edge of his bed, kissing him on the forehead.

He reached up, touching my face, looking at the black makeup on his fingers in confusion as he pulled his hand away.

"Mess!" he said.

I let out a weak laugh, kissing him again.

"I know, sorry about that."

Eric handed me a tissue box, giving me a shaky smile, face pale. I wiped off my makeup as best I could, trying very hard not to cry.

"Car!" John said cheerfully, handing me one.

Nodding, I ran the car along his arm that didn't have an IV in it, making him giggle. Smiling, he took one of his own cars, running it along my arm and making the corresponding noises.

"Vrm vrm," he said, before looking up at me and giving me a smile, exciting to see my reaction.

I looked back at him, at his innocent smile that made his wide blue eyes sparkle, that made dimples stand out on his sweet little face, and began to cry. Eric wrapped me into a hug, stroking my hair.

"Hey, it's okay. He's okay," he murmured.

"I-I know, it's j-just...h-he's so young, he's just a baby, h-he shouldn't have to go through this," I choked.

"He's getting better every day. We'll get him on some medication and this won't happen again. He'll be fine," he said, kissing me.

"Ma-ma?" John asked, crawling over to me, holding out his arms.

Smiling, I brushed away tears, scooping him up and giving him a squeeze, holding him close.

"I love you," I murmured. "You're such a strong boy, I'm so proud of you. I'm so, so proud of you."

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