22:08. 22:08, on the 28/11/14. Something so little, yet so significant about that time and it was unexplainable. It's when George's thoughts collided and he realised, he didn't just like Blake. He loved him. So he planned, for exactly two years later, he would propose. Though he didn't know that it may go differently than planned.
-
2 years later
George rushed up to the desk of the hospital. "Excuse me miss, but do you know where Blake is? Blake Richardson? I was told he was in this ward," he asked the reciptionist behind the desk. His heart was beating a thousand mile an hour and he was uncontrollably shaking. Even the strain on his voice, stopping him from crying, was painful. Everything that caused the single movement of any muscle, was painful.
"Age?" It was as if she didn't care that the love of his life was on his hospital bed - quite literally.
"Um, I'm 17, ma'am,"
"He's in room 446, floor D7,"
"Thank you so so much,"
He rushed up the stairs, with an out-of-breath Reece following after.
"George. George! GEORGE!"
He stopped running and turned. There behind him was... Reece. The one who has been trying to put out the fire of this madness.
"He's in room 446,"
The caramel-haired boy reached the other blonde. "Go on in yourself, mate. Tell me how it goes, yeah?"
George walked away, trying to find Blake's room. And there he was standing outside it. 21:59. He walked in and saw the pale, lifeless, unrecognizable brunette he loved so much, hooked up to machines and had scars all over his face and body.
"Oh, hello," George turned around to have been revealed with the sight of a doctor, probably checking up on Blake. 22:01.
"Um, hi. You must be checking up on Blake?" George asked, aware of the answer.
"Well, mister Smith? Is it? I know this may be difficult to hear, but we have to take Blake off his life support," she flinched as she said the last few words, seeing his face grow from depressed to anger.
"What? YOU CANT TAKE HIM OFF HIS LIFE SUPPORT. HE NEEDS IT. HE'LL DIE OTHERWISE. YOU ARE SO STUPID. UGGH!"
"Mister Smith, if you could please lower your voice-"
"LOWER MY VOICE? LOWER MY FUCKING VOICE?! ARE YOU FOR REAL? YOURE JUST GOING TO LET ME WATCH MY BOYFRIEND DIE? WHILE IM IN THE ROOM? NO. THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE. SERIOUSLY WOMAN, WHO NEEDS THIS MORE THAN HIM?" 22:03.
"I'm sorry Mister Smith, I really am, but it's my job. You know what that's like? I'll let you have 5 more minutes with him still supported, and if he wakes up come to me immediately. Any longer than that and I'll have to take him off. I'm sorry,"
George didn't say anything. She was being reasonable so he decided to take the last five minutes he may possibly ever spend with his boyfriend. 22:04. He took out his prepared speech and read. "I know this isn't how I planned it, but here goes. So this day 2 years ago, at exactly 22:08 I realised I loved you. And who wouldn't? I love your smile that you show often, I love your vulnerable side, I love how you take forever doing your hair and when I complain you always say, "perfection takes time". And the list goes on. I honestly couldn't ask for a better boyfriend and for you to be my first, I'm over the moon," 22:07, "but please Blake, if you can, wake up. Please for me? And if not for me, for the band, for your future, please wake up. Please," The audible sobs filled the silent room as he took Blake's cold, lifeless hand in his. 22:09.
It was over. He lost him. Forever. The doctor walked back in and walked up to George.
"Mister Smith, don't blame this on yourself," she said, as she removed the tube that kept him hooked in the machine.
George felt a squeeze on his hand, until he heard the awful high pitched screech of the heart monitor drop and the hand of the brunette's went limp again. This was it, he was gone.
Everything went into slow motion and blurred. All he can remember is that night and then ending up with Blake again after the simple shoot of a gun.
«~»
I wrote this all within an hour so sorry if it's shit. Also sorry for late updates, I haven't really been inspired lately and I kinda just came up with this so yeah. I feel a bit depressed and not okay with myself. I don't really trust myself, so maybe writing this was a bad mistake. Ah well. Please vote and comment. Bye
