Withering World 1 [MCSM Fanfiction]

WEAKENING: Chapter 9

Jesse

Seven. They'd injected him with seven analgesics and he's still whining in excruciation. Pain is like a deathly cast plastering him to his bed. His entire being can no longer sit up or even talk normally without another interruption of agony's fresh wave.

In misery, I regret not returning to Beacontown a lot earlier. Even if the duration of the journey from QZ took roughly a day by foot, my legs wouldn't stop working for him, my intern and everyday hero.

His good hand's in mine, the inflamed and indigo I clasp tight. With shallow breaths and a weak pulse, he renders his vision on me, just barely. My imagination screams that he's far into the process of decay after just a glimpse of his opposite hand, which is already mortifyingly withered but I deny it over and over again.

"We're gonna get through this," Lukas utters, almost making me jump as I had forgotten my other friends were beside me.

"I hope so," Radar says before attempting to repress a groan full of suffering. "It really hurts."

It's as if holding his hand gives me a direct connection to his heart and brain, fighting and fighting and fighting. Through this, in every single moment, I root for him and him only, booing for team sickness.

Another intimidating silence conquers the room, and we all wait in anticipation for someone to break it.

None of us do as a nurse pops her head through the doorframe shortly after. "Miss Jesse, may I speak to you?"

My brows crinkle at her urge for confidentiality, because if we're all here, we might as well know together. Although the nurse's tone is sweet so I'm obliged to comply, reluctantly releasing Radar's hand, pushing my chair back to maneuver out of it, and slipping out the door. Lukas and Petra shuffle closer to his bed after nearly questioning this motive, occupying my previous space.

"We'll wait for you here." Petra gives a half smile, her eyes left glum.

"Jesse?"

I listen to Radar's call, turning back.

"I hope it's good news."

"Me too," I say, barely above a whisper.

The corridor branches off into different critical condition wards. My boots click softly on contact with the polished marmoleum floor. I'm led not too far from the entrance, but the nurse waits until the door closes as I pray for good news, good news, good news.

She seems uncannily chirpy, a bewildering contrast to her job and the place we're in. In her baby blue uniform and chestnut hair pinned painfully down in a neat bun, I'm not seeing any of her apprehension projected. "This won't take long."

"I assume it's about Radar?" I ask, trying to strengthen the shell around my unwanted sentiment.

Immediately, she answers. "For a while, I've been attending to him. And I've noticed changes in his immune response." This makes me tense before she rests her bare hand on my shoulder before gloving it. "A positive change."

Heart sinking back into place and a new faith rushing through me, I feel the corners of my lips pulling into a genuine smile. A positive change. "How come?" The words pass through my mouth like a rambling stream.

"He's had this disease long enough for his body to react in a way that would eradicate it. Earlier before you came, we took some of his blood to view his progress." Her eyes light up at the discovery. "It now contains antibodies - the correct one for erasing Wither specifically. So he's produced these antibodies at a rough time, but if he's not too far in the decaying stage, he will for sure make a full recovery with hardly any long-term effects. Radar's exceedingly healthy, it's still a mystery how his immune system even did what it did."