Stronger

Chapter 2

I was awoken at 3 AM to a quiet sobbing and coughing sound. Still half asleep, I rolled over to face Phil. It took a moment before my partially conscious mind realized that it was him who was coughing and crying.

"Phil? What's wrong?!" I asked, sitting straight up. My eyes were wide open now and I scrambled towards Phil, pulling him up into seated position in my lap.

"Can't.......breathe......." He wheezed out, seemingly unable to get air into his lungs.

"Oh fuck" I shouted, completely at a loss for better words. "Do I need to take you to the hospital?" I asked, getting a nod in return from Phil.

"Okay, umm.....we'll have to get a taxi, and can you walk? No wait of course you can't, you're literally-" I cut off, both because I was rambling and because I was about to say something not-so-optimistic. The entire time I had been talking I was getting dressed, so now I was wearing skinny jeans and a T-shirt over the boxers I had been sleeping in.

"Dan.......calm down...." Phil said, voice choked, tired, and raspy.

"Oh my god Phil" I whispered fearfully. I draped my coat over him and then picked him up, holding him tightly and gently and lovingly all at once.

*

We were safely in a cab with the most indifferent driver ever. It was obvious that something was wrong, could he not even act like he cared? People are annoying. My main focus was to keep Phil breathing and conscious though, so that's what I occupied myself with.

As soon as we got to the hospital I scooped Phil up again and rushed inside. He was clinging weakly to my shirt. It was chilly outside and goosebumps were rising on my bare arms as I ran through the cold.

"Help! Can someone help me?!" I called, attracting the attention of several nurses and startling some people who were sitting in the waiting area.

An older nurse with kind eyes rushed over with a wheelchair. I lay Phil gently in it and time seemed to slow down as questions were coming at me from every direction.

"When did this start?"

"Have you noticed him having any sudden coughing fits lately?"

"Has he been eating less?"

"Are you okay, sir?"

The last one came from the same lady who had brought the wheelchair. She must have noticed my deer-in-headlights look and been concerned. That was quite nice, actually.

"Yes......he woke up.....and he couldn't breathe......" I stammered. Realizing that I was still clinging tightly to Phil's hand, I let go.

They wheeled him through some imposing white doors, leaving just me and the nurse there alone. She handed me a big stack of paperwork and a pen.

"Can you fill these out for me? I'm sure you'll be able to see your brother-"

"Boyfriend" I corrected her.

She seemed unfazed. "I'm sure you'll be able to see your boyfriend soon." She finished.

"Thanks" I mumbled, trying not to sound annoyed. And I wasn't, at least not with her. But I was fully aware that with me any emotion could come off as sarcasm, so I tried to always sound upbeat when around people who didn't know me in public.

I made my way over to the hard plastic chairs and sat down in one. They were a faded shade of red and gave off a vaguely disgusting aura, as if they hadn't been cleaned in a while.

Staring down at the paperwork, my brain replayed everything that had happened. And for the first time in a very long time, I let myself cry.