Dead or Destitute (Lams)

Chapter Six

"I would have visited sooner." Alexander stood tall and composed, glimpsing the room quickly before setting his stare on John.

John cowered before hi, not sure what to feel. Was he being given a look of empathy? Perhaps anger, or disappointment. He knew only one thing, and that was that the look he was being given was nothing like the way his father looked at him. There was no disgust or animosity. That was exactly what John expected from Alexander, yet what he was being shown was more than he possibly deserved.

"Go away," John hissed. However, Alexander remained in the doorway, with a clear resolve to stay. "Go away! You hate and despise me!" John flailed, wishing he could run and hide, avoid confrontation.

Alexander inched closer. John winced, waiting for some sort of blow, some sort of repercussion for lashing out. His wait was futile. Alexander hadn't placed a hand near him. "I'm sorry, John."

Alexander was a man of great prestige. Those who crossed him were deftly dealt with. He silenced them in an instances, good with words and a clear mind to think from. He was someone you looked at and just knew he'd go far. His name would be equated with those of Einstein or Homer or any other great thinker in human history. He was usually quick to action, but here and now, he was slow to behave in any manner other than apologetic.

It was almost humorous the affect John had on him. His tongue which silenced so many before, now was like metal in his mouth. It was hard to move, dry and limp. His brain stilled, words blurring together, sentences becoming incoherent. He had no idea whatsoever on how to respond to the crushed boy in front of him. Still, he knew that he must try.

"May I sit by you?" he asked. Seeing the state John was in now, he knew all actions should be delayed and confirmed by John first.

John noodled feebly, and Alexander crawled into the hospital bed. It was a tight fit, but neither of the two found the arrangement too uncomfortable. Their arms grazed together, yet they were comfortable with the intimacy. 

John scoffed. "I suppose you probably want to know why."

Alexander shook his head, careful to look John in the eyes as he spoke. "I told you before and I'll say it once more; I don't care about the scars on your body or the reasons you're here. You're worth more to me than the baggage you carry."

There was silence for a moment, but Alexander knew he had more to add.

"I just wish that if your load becomes too much to carry, you'd let me help. No matter what's been instilled in your mind, you aren't actually alone."

Alexander thought John would cry. It was a normal human emotion and it was anticipated. Instead, his eyes stayed dry, a glassy look as he gazed off in space. He seemed too numb to cry, too unaware to react.

"Why?" he called out finally, his voice staying in the same monotone way, never rising or falling. "Why do you care about me? Despite all the bullshit you spew, you don't give a fuck about me. I'm probably just another hospital project to you."

He grabbed John's hands, holding them firmly in his own. "You're not a project. I don't see you as a guinea pig. John, I'm dying. Slow and steady, but I'm not going to be around forever. Why would I waste time? I have such a limited amount left. Why would I give it to you if it didn't matter?"

John didn't respond at first, pondering the words spoken. "Nobody sticks around. Everybody leaves. Why would you be the exception?"

"If you'd give me the chance, I'd love to prove exactly what I mean."

John snorted, seeming to mock Alexander's spiel. "How do you intend to prove that?"

Alexander chuckled, rising as he did so. "Why don't you get out of bed and I'll show you?"

John reluctantly moved, trailing behind Alexander. The halls were empty, only a few nurses to be seen. They all scurried around, acting as though no one was there.

He was led into a waiting room, the door closed and the blinds which showed inside were shut. Alexander smiled once before opening the door and gesturing for John to walk in.

Inside the room were sheets, set up to form a tent of sorts. John carefully inched inside, making sure not to pull on the IV attached to his arm. The sheets were tucked carefully behind a TV set, commercials playing quietly.

"What's happening?" John asked, laughing at the makeshift setup.

Alexander moved in, adding more pillows to the stack of blankets he had laid on the ground for comfort. "This, John Laurens, is our first date."

He messed with the remote, flipping between the five channels that the tv played. "And only today, they have the Princess Bride. It's either that or the news, so take your pick."

"How'd you manage this?"

Alexander waved his hand, acting as though it were super obvious. "I stole sheets off my bed, found some in a closet, and had Laf bring me some extras. It's one O' Clock on a Thursday. Nobody's using this room. Plus I used the 'closed for cleaning sign.' Snacks?" he asked, handing over a handful of bagged goods from the vending machine.

John grabbed a bag of skittles, eating his first bite of food since his attempt. "What if I had said no?"

Alexander pondered that for a moment. "Well, then I suppose I'd have to eat all these snacks alone."

John rolled his eyes but he found the whole thing to be sweet. No one else would have ever done this for John. No one else cared enough to try. It amazed John how Alexander showed his affection, how he always knew the right thing to do and say. It wouldn't be easy for John to trust Alexander, for him to believe that he wanted to stay and never leave him. Yet, this was something worth fighting for.

This moment in the hospital waiting room, under a pile of sheets, with a cornucopia of snacks, Alexander mumbling every line he could possibly remember, this was worth dropping his barrier for. This was something worth believing in.