'hold him'
Troye's POV
As I can hear Jacob tapping his foot nervously, I become more and more anxious in my seat. The waiting room is far too cold and that terrible hospital scent is flooding my senses. I fucking hate it. While we wait I hold his hand tightly but his hand is limp in my own. He has been acting awfully distant since we left for Pennsylvania but how could I blame him. I can barely imagine how terrible he feels right now, losing his mother, the one person he has had all his life to support him and who has always loved him no matter what.
Jacob’s hand slips from my own a few moments later and then I hear him standing up, then a deep and professional voice telling us to follow him.
Before Jacob does so, however, he turns back around and tugs my hand with a silent “follow me”. I am about to tell him he should go alone, see his mother in private, he reads my thoughts of course.
“No,” he says quickly. “I want you with me, please come,” he says, almost pleading.
I quickly give in and nod. My sneakers squeak too loudly against the tile flooring and Jacob’s pace is almost too fast to follow. Jacob is now holding my hand so tightly I think there is no blood reaching my fingertips but I cannot find it within me to mind.
When we eventually stop I can sense Jacob’s fear, his utter dread to walk in and see the state his mother he is. Before he does though, I tug on the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention.
“Jacob, listen to me,” I whisper.
“I’m listening.”
“I’m going to wait out here, okay? I’m not going anywhere but you need to be with her in there alone for now, yeah?” he is silent for a while but then he is letting go on my hand, presumably nodding.
“Yeah,” he responds. “You’re right,” he kisses me distractedly on the cheek and then I hear him pushing down the door handle and walking in.
I feel around until I find a chair which is right beside the door and sit down with a heavy sigh. I listen intensely to what is going on behind the thin wood of the door. It is at times like these I wish I knew exactly what is going through Jacob’s mind. All I can really hear is soft, muffled murmuring from Jacob on the other end which goes on for a few minutes then I hear a sob from Jacob, my heart shatters.
I hear the wrecked crying go on for as long as I possibly can without interfering but then I cannot take it anymore. I stand up from my seat abruptly and I walk in. As I do, the crying becomes louder.
I quickly walk over to where I can hear Jacob in the private room. As I feel my way around I hit my hand on the foot of the bed but I ignore the temporary pain and I find my way to the sound of a broken boy crying for his dying mother.
“Jakey,” I whisper as I stand behind him, holding his shoulders while trying to hold my own tears in. “Jake,” I say again pathetically but it is no use.
He cries for what feels like years but I keep standing behind him, rubbing his shoulders. He then abruptly stands up from where he is sitting on the chair at his mother’s bed side and hugs me tightly, burying his face into the crook of my neck.
“Shh,” I coo. “Baby, she's just sleeping for now, the doctor said so,” I try but I know there is really no way of sugar coating anything at this point and I know Jacob realises that.
“It’s not going to be alright,” he says through cries. “She’s not going to make it, Tro, it’s so bad. It’s worse than I could have ever thought, I can barely recognise her,” I am at a loss for words so I proceed to just try hush him and hold him as close to me as I can.
Eventually he somewhat calms down and I urge him to go wash his face and to get out of the hospital for some air. He complies and leaves the room, leaving me in the seat he previously occupied.
I run my hand along the bed where she lies and I eventually find her hand, I hold it gently. She is so cold.
The beeping of the machines is at first awfully annoying but then it becomes rythmic and reasurring.
“You must be Troye Mellet?” my head darts up from where it is bowed, the unexpected voice startling me. I did not even hear the door open.
“Yes? Hello, who is there?” I ask the unfamiliar female voice.
“It’s alright,” the woman says, “I’m Miss Bixenman’s nurse, Linda,” she says, placing a hand on my back.
“Nice to meet you,” I tell her.
“You too," she takes the seat beside me. "Listen Troye, so before Miss Bixenman had to go into this coma she had me write some letters for her. She definitely made you sound like you are the light of her son’s life,” I smile and then blush.
“As he is mine,” I tell her proudly.
I hear her chuckle and then she takes my hand in hers and places, what I gather, must be two envelopes.
“One for you and the other is for Jacob,” she says. “They are not terribly long, she really struggled to speak but they are meaningful. I was able to get yours done in braille for you,” she adds. I smile even wider.
“Wow, thank you,” I say with immense gratitude, truthfully shocked, something like that means a lot to me because most of the time when I receive letters I have to get Emma to read them for me and then they are not as personal. “So Linda, uh," I do not want to question the inevitable but I need validation. "Is she going to make it?” I ask, scared out of mind because my intuition tells me the answer will not be the one I want to here.
Linda places her hand gently on my one shoulder. “I don’t think so, Troye,” she says, not sugar coating it any way.
I nod to myself slowly and I hear her get up from her seat. “Linda?” I question.
“Yes?”
“Could you fetch Jacob? He is outside the building in the front. Unless you have somewhere urgent to be of course..”
“No problem” she says softly and then leaves the room.
When I hear Jacob enter the room I move out of the seat to give it to him but he places a hand on his shoulder and stops me from doing so.
“It’s okay, Tro, I-I-“ he stops and sighs. I resume standing up and I hold him as tightly as I can in yet another embrace. He places his head on my shoulder and puts his hands gently on my hips.
He does not cry again. We stay for another two hours but he does not cry, just remains silent.
But as he is silent I can hear the emotional wall he is building up for himself. If she does not make it I do not know if my Jacob will ever emerge back around that wall, I do not know if he will build it to be too strong to be knocked down again.
