Skips A Beat ::Wattys2016::

Chapter 7

I wake up to the sound of coughing. A lot of it. It's been a week since Michael and I's first time. I smile sleepily. He's been so good this past week. No trouble. He even made it up the stairs at my apartment without nearly dying. He's been happy, and not talking about death. We even went on an actual date, the first in months. We went to a movie, and got dinner. But we got kicked out of the restaurant for being too loud. He's smiley, and not having chest pains. I don't know if I believe in miracles or not, but it feels like he's getting better. We might actually get our forever. That's all I want.

There's another cough. I open my eyes, squinting at the light pouring into Michael's room. I roll over towards him, but he isn't there. I sit up, looking around. I look down, to see him laying on the ground, coughing with a steady stream of red pouring from his mouth in an insane amount. Shit.

I get up, quickly sitting on my knees beside him. I should have known he wasn't getting better. It's not even remotely possible to reverse the shut down of a body. I rub his back. This is the most blood I've ever seen him spit up, but it was a great week. It's expected to have more blood than normal after a fantastic week. I regret thinking that he was getting better. I should have never given myself that hope.

"Oh fuck." Michael says, realizing that there's a big spot of blood on the hardwood floor. "I gotta clean-."

"No, it's okay. I'll clean it." I say, helping him stand up. His nails dig into my bicep when we're standing, before he leans heavily into me. "Hey, hey, Michael." I say stupidly as his knees buckle and he falls down. I grab under his arms, pulling him into me. His head hits my shoulder, I can hear the drip of the blood in his mouth as it hits the floor, sending chills through me. "Mikey?" I ask when I hear him groan. He stands up by himself, pain painted across his face. "You okay?"

"Yeah. We stood. Too fast." He says choppily. I pick him up, carrying him outside, momentarily forgetting all about the blood on the floor. "Luke, what are you. Doing?"

"We're going to the hospital." I say. He shakes his head against my chest. I open the passenger side door, sliding him in. I open the glove box, pulling out a wade of tissues for him. He sticks them to his mouth.

"We don't have to go to the hospital." He says, around the tissues. I don't answer, just drive. We sit in silence for a while before he says, "Lukey, I'm fine, babe. I've coughed up blood before, it's normal." I still don't answer. I can feel myself starting to panic. I press my foot down on the gas harder. I have to get him to the hospital before something bad happens to him.

"You don't pass out from it though." I say through my teeth. He sighs, putting his head against the window. I'm going close to 70 now, the houses whirling past us. Mikey coughs into his hands, coating them in blood.

"Slow down." Michael says. "There's a red light. Luke, red light." I keep my foot on the gas. I need to get him there. "Jesus Christ, Luke, there's a fucking red light!" He yells, slapping my arm with the back of his hand. I step on the brake, the tires screeching. We stop in just enough time for a semi to pass. Michael slides forward, hitting off the dash and leaving two bloody handprints. "Holy shit." He says. I stare down at the wheel. It's weird, but a small part of me wishes that we would have hit that truck. Together forever. That's fucked up, why am I even thinking that? "Luke, switch me."

"No."

"You're obviously scared and can't drive right, so let me do it." He says. I shake my head, moving the car forward. "Luke, you're speeding again."

"Why are you never scared?" I ask. "Why doesn't it scare you that there's so much blood? That you passed out."

"I'm not scared because I'm fine! I haven't gotten the extra blood out of my lungs for a few weeks, so it's naturally going to be a lot. Passing out had nothing to do with the blood, Lucas."