Photograph: A Collection of Kavi, Scömìche and Pentatonix Oneshots

See You Again Part 4

Should I make See You Again into a book? Because I think it's gonna be loooong! Comment whether I should because I'm deliberating rn!

As usual please bear in mind that I have no medical knowledge, just 10 minutes of googling heart failure. Oh well.

Scott puffed on the inhaler for the millionth time that week. It'd been three weeks since he'd become an inpatient and had been given this thing and it seemed to be like glasses: the more he used it, the more he found he needed it. Stupid messed up oxygen supply.

He hated being sick. He hated being tired all the time. He hated having to use the inhaler every ten minutes just to breathe normally. He hated not singing. He hated being all swollen up and gaining weight, the most horrible (at least he thought so) symptom of heart failure. He hated the uncomfortable hospital bed. He hated only seeing Mitch for set hours in a day. He hated everything.

'It's only been a month,' Scott said to Mitch one day, lying in his hospital bed wheezing slightly, 'And I feel like so much has changed.'
Mitch smiled gently. 'I know.'
'I can't believe I ruined Pentatonix.'
Mitch stared at him for a second. 'Don't be ridiculous! Kirstie's pregnant anyway, and we all needed a break. Kirstie and Avi need to have this kid and raise it a bit, and you need to get better. So we go on hold for a year, nevermind. That's okay, and the fans will understand. Trust me.'
Scott smiled. 'I'm tired, Mitch, and I think it's time for my meds.'
Mitch nodded. He was upset that Scott, usually so full of energy, was so lethargic now. 'Shall I go fetch Lily?'
Scott nodded and adjusted his pillows, stacked under his head to raise it and let him breathe more easily. Mitch walked over to the door and waved down the corridor to Dr Hirst.

She came in with the cart of medication. She gave Scott a glass of water and three different pills, then gave him a small injection of some pink stuff into his shoulder.

He took the pills and Dr Hirst stared at him for a moment. 'Scott,' she said, 'I'm going to run a breathing test for you, nothing out of the ordinary.'
Scott nodded and she left, returning a few seconds later with another intern, a large young girl with thick glasses and lots of very bright red lipstick.
'This is Dr French,' she said, 'There has to be two of us here to make sure that you're alright, as this test gets you out of breath, which will be hard on you especially, Scott.'
Mitch squeezed Scott's hand and listened to his breathing. His breaths were definitely shorter and sharper than they had been a few days ago.
'Alright,' Dr Hirst pulled out a small contraption with a long tube connected to it, 'You're going to blow into this tube for three breaths, okay. Don't change your breathing, just how you're breathing right now.'
She inserted the tube into his mouth. He took three rapid breaths and she removed it. 'Perfect.' She then pressed a few buttons. 'Now, I just want one long breath, as long as you can. Have your inhaler so you can relieve yourself afterwards, because you'll be really short of breath.'
Scott nodded that he was ready. She inserted the tube again and he breathed out. He was a singer, Mitch thought, so he'd be good at this, but he only lasted a couple of seconds before drawing away and shaking slightly whilst puffing on his inhaler.
Dr Hirst scribbled down some numbers on a sheet. 'Alrighty then,' she said, smiling, 'I'm just going to run these by Dr Ramirez. Back in five.'
She and Dr French left and Mitch smiled at Scott.
'I did awful,' Scott said quietly, still breathless from the test, 'It's really hard to breathe, Mitchie.'
'Yeah,' said Mitch, handing him his inhaler again, 'Just use your inhaler, Scottland, you'll be okay.'
Scott smiled and inhaled, his breaths gradually slowly until they were back to the slightly slower but still uneasy pace they had been.
Dr Ramirez soon came in with Dr Hirst.
'Is everything okay, Doctor?' Mitch asked.
'Nothing to be too worried about, Mr Grassi,' Dr Ramirez almost smiled, 'It's just that, Mr Hoying, your lungs are filling with fluid because of your condition. It's completely normal in heart failure patients,' she said, seeing their worried faces, 'But I'm going insert a tube into your lungs to drain the fluid so that you can breathe more easily, and a nasal cannulae.'

Scott inwardly felt crush. A nasal cannulae was one of those nose tubes that they had on people who were... going to die. Surely he wasn't going to die? He could get his transplant and...
'Scott,' Mitch broke off his train of thought, 'She needs to put the tube in. I'll see you in a second, Scottland.'
Scott nodded, and immediately started breathing much more quickly. Lily shook her head. 'Scott, you can't hide how ill you feel from your boyfriend.'
'I'm not... he isn't my... boyfriend.'
'He basically is.'
'Shut... up...' Scott wheezed, and within a few seconds Lily had inserted the nasal tube, which made him feel a billion times worse about how ill he was but able to breathe again. She then called Mitch back in and told him she was going to put him under for a few minutes so she could insert the lung tubes to help drain the fluid.
Scott could see his best friend trying not to cry and he smiled gently. 'I'm okay, Mitchie,' Scott reassured him, 'They're making me better, see?'
Mitch nodded and as Scott fell asleep from the anaethesia, Mitch burst into hopeless tears.