Manthony ✨

Heat Stroke

~HEAT STROKE~

Enjoy this longer chapter, lovelies <3

Idea by the amazing Alex_Wreck_ENGLISH

~Mitchel~

"Only call it living 'cause I'm still alive, only open up the doors if there's suicide, yeah, I'm anxious to my core, but I'm doing fine," I add some scratch to my voice and sing my lungs out, eyes closed and emotions pouring out with the lyrics. I hold my braids back with one hand and tuck them behind my ear as I finish the second verse. We let the background music music play, opting to skip the chorus and jump to the bridge where Kras and I harmonize and switch lines, "Well, even though I'm depressed, I'm not sorry," he sings quietly and I smile softly, walking closer to him,

"I don't wanna leave this bed at all," I sing out and we're circling each other, looking in the other's eyes as we sing. It's as if we're singing this part to each other and it's oddly romantic,

"I've got a brick on my chest," his eyes glisten with tears all of a sudden,

"And Hell is gripping my legs," I sing back, my own eyes watering,

"And there's a demon, he's ten foot tall," his voice drops quieter now, like his voice will crack with oncoming tears if he speaks any louder,

"But honestly, he doesn't seem like much of a threat," I say, just as quiet as his previous line and we pull away, his hand grabbing mine and pulling it to his lips before I smile and the crowd cheers like crazy as I head to the edge of the stage and sing the chorus one last time before all the lights go out and smoke blows,

"Good night, Toronto," I call out into the mic and everyone screams, threatening to deafen me when the lights come back on and we get ready to head out,

"Real fuckin' romantic, you two," Clinton slaps me on the back,

"Shut up," I mumble, feeling color fill my face and he grins,

"I'm starving," he says and Christian walks up,

"Same," he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer, giving me a kiss on the top of my head before squeezing my hip lightly. I look up at him and notice he looks a bit...off,

"You okay?" I ask and he nods,

"Just tired," he smiles softly and I frown a bit, not quite believing him but deciding to drop it anyway. We're packing up our stuff and walking out to the taxi when I hear a thud behind me. I turn to see Christian on the ground along with his stuff,

"Christian?" I ask and drop to my knees to see he's out cold, "Clinton!" I call and he turns and hurries over,

"What happened?" He asks and I run a hand down my face,

"I don't know, he passed out, I don't know if he drank enough water tod-" he cuts me off and grabs his legs, holding them up, letting the blood rush to his upper half so he has a better chance of regaining consciousness,

"I'll call 911," I say and pull out my phone, not knowing what else to do and too tired and dazed to think of anything else,

"911 what's your emergency?" The dispatcher on the other end of the line responds in a monotone voice and I try my best to keep my voice unwavering,

"We think someone might have had a heat stroke, they've passed out and we're holding their legs up," I say and I hear a bit of a clicking sound. Keyboard?

"Where are you located?" He asks and I look at the street name and tell him only to hear more clicking before he answers, "We have someone on their way right now," they say before hanging up and taking the next call. I head back over next to Christian who's still out,

"Someone's on their way," I tell my brother and he nods,

"It's gonna be a long night," he sighs and I nod,

"How about I stay with Christian and go with him to the hospital when the ambulance comes and you go and get us some food?" I ask and he nods, handing me Christian's ankles. I grab them and rest them against my hip bones, waiting for the vehicle to arrive as I watch Clinton take our stuff and shove it in the cab before they speed off. I stay there and hold his ankles in the middle of the sidewalk with passerby giving us weird looks. I bite at my lip, peeling some of the skin off before I hear the sirens wailing nearby,

"Thank God," I whisper a sigh of relief before they park next to the sidewalk and wheel the stretcher out beside us,

"Step aside, sir," they tell me so I do, stepping back and leaning against a signal light post, continuing to chew on my lip. They struggle to get him on the stretcher before they wheel him in and gesture for me to get in the back with them. It's strange. Almost like a fever dream. I watch the paramedics check his pulse and other things, the captain taking notes in the captain's seat as we head to the nearest hospital. When we arrive, they wheel him out and I'm led to the waiting room. It's like every hospital, with the white walls and sick people coughing and waiting in uncomfortable chairs. One by one I watch people disappear into different wards for different reasons, different problems, different pains. I watch people come and go, lost in my own head, my eyes flitting around aimlessly. Eventually, a nurse walks up nonchalantly, telling me Christian's awake and stable,

"Poor guy had heat stroke like you had assumed," she says and taps her acrylic nails on her data-doused clipboard,

"When can I see him?" I ask, cutting to the chase,

"In a little, I'll let you know," she says, "Can I have your name?" She pulls a pen out of her pocket and I nod,

"Mitchel Cave," I tell her,

"One 'L' or two?"

"One," I say and she nods, walking away, condemning me to the uncomfortable, germ-ridden seat. I sink back down, pulling my hood up over my head and pull out my phone, texting my brother:

Me: Did you get the food yet? 11:13

I drop my location to him so he knows how to get here and close my eyes, burying my freezing hands into the pockets of my hoodie. I'm drifting off into a heavy sleep when my phone vibrates, snapping me out of my daze:

Clinton: Yeah, omw 11:18

I like his message before shoving it back in my pocket along with my hands. This time around I do nod off before I feel someone shaking me awake,

"Wake up, sleepyhead, I got us some food," I hear my brother's voice slipping through the fog of my brain before I yawn and rub my eyes. We sit down and eat our take out in silence before he says something and I'm kind of glad, it was uncomfortably silent,

"Do you love him?" He asks and I pause for a second, not expecting him to ask that question,

"Of course I love him," I say and continue to eat,

"I mean, like, more than your best friend kind of love him," he says and I nod even though he's not looking at me,

"Yeah," I say, "I do," and with that he looks at me and smiles,

"I know," is all he says and hugs me before asking me if I'm done. I gobble up the rest and let him throw it away for us. About 40 minutes later, the nurse walks in and lets us see him. Before we walk in Clinton grabs my arm,

"Please keep the making out to a minimum in my presence," he jokes and I laugh,

"Ha, ha," I say sarcastically and we smile at each other before walking in.