Elija Grimes sleeps with everyone he bumps into and even finds himself in bed with his three 'straight' friends. His actions have enormous consequences and it's questionable whether those are good or bad.
(Standalone)
Written: May 2016 - Jan 2017
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~ Seth ~
They called. The hospital called and I have the results...
I'm not even surprised that they are positive. But they're far from positive, aren't they? They're quite negative. They're bad. Very bad. I don't even want to think about all the things that I'm going to have to go through to make it go away. It's going to be a long, hard time. The only good news I got is that I'm lucky they found out in a very early stage. They praised me for going to my doctor so early and they told me it won't be hard to heal me, and they have no idea how happy I was to hear those words. The others don't know yet. I haven't told them. It's only been an hour since the hospital called.
I was done with my classes earlier than the others and I'm just sitting in a cafe right now, holding onto my cup of coffee, staring at the other customers happily chatting about all kinds of things they think are important. It seems so insignificant compared to my life.
The two ladies at the table next to me are talking about their children, drinking and using drugs—or, well... the fact that they think they are doing that—and they're both being very dramatic about it. It makes me want to jump up from my chair and run over and yell, "Don't you have any idea that there are worse things in the world? That I could die?!" But they don't even know me, and it wouldn't make a difference. It won't make it go away.
At least it's some kind of distraction. I love distraction. It has started to become one of my favorite things. Their constant chatter makes me think of something else than my horrible disease. I just want it to be gone. I just want to be healthy and have nothing to worry about, but there's nothing I can do other than go through all the procedures the doctors will prescribe for me and hope that it will work.
Halfway through one of their stories—in which I learn that the woman's daughter came home with bloodshot eyes just this weekend and blatantly denied her intoxication—my phone rings. I take it out of my pocket and bring it to my ear without bothering to check the caller ID, not really caring about who's calling. I pick up with a simple, "Sup," before hearing Mikael say. "Hey, man, where are you?"
"I'm at uh... Ground Up," I reply, after looking at the sign on the window for the name. I don't even know why I chose it. I guess I just went into the first cafe I saw when I got the call.
"That coffee place?"
"Yeah, that's the one."
"Why are you there all by yourself?" he asks, but he doesn't even wait for an answer. "We're coming over."
He hangs up before I can reply and I lean back in my chair with a sigh. I run a hand over my face and try to imagine what the upcoming conversation will be like. I'll have to tell them what the doctor said and they'll immediately go mental, and I obviously know whythey'd be worried, but I don't want them to be, because they can't do anything about it, either. Sure, they can try to make me feel better by distracting me, which I'm sure they are very capable of doing, but it will always still be there. I stare out of the window of the cafe for a few minutes—contemplating leaving—until I decide that I won't do that to my friends, and drop my head onto the table, laying my hands on top of it.
