「look at the stars」 | Johnnyboy

F o u r .

After having spent five hours in the waiting room, Ponyboy's name was finally called. It took them about ten minutes to get him settled into the room, and honestly his nerves were now skyrocketed. Sitting in that small space for that long, just waiting and feeling worse by the minute, had him nervous to say the least. His hands were shaking more and more as he watched the time tick by. He just wanted to have this sorted out so that he could go home and hopefully survive the day.

"I'm going to need a urine and then a blood test from you, do you think you'll be able to go to the bathroom for me in a moment?" The white-coated man asked as he stepped into the room, moving to type a few things in on the computer that sat at Ponyboy's righthand side. For me. God, did they always word things like this? He thought silently, but instead of dwelling on the odd use of dialogue, he nodded and shakily slid off of the hospital bed. Darry reached out, holding his hand to steady him. Ponyboy murmured a 'thank you' before grabbing the cup and hastily making his way to the public bathroom. He was surprised he hadn't ran into someone, as his gaze had been directed at the ground the entire time.

Once he stepped in, he locked the door and clumsily unscrewed the neon orange cap. It went to collapse onto the floor, but he caught it just in time. Whoa, did he feel like Cat Woman right now. Wait... no, no, that's not who he meant to refer to himself as. Maybe Spiderman was a better superhero to envision? Oh, hell. Why was he even contemplating that in his current situation?

He had one legitimate question as he set the cup on the counter and began to unzip his jeans; if he could hardly walk and talk at the same time, how the hell was he supposed to hold the cup and pee at the same time?

Though, clearly, he managed. Putting the lid back on, he ran the now closed container under water -- he always liked to wash them before he gave them to the doctor, because not doing so was just unsanitary. He wasn't a germaphobe or anything, but the thought of having his own piss everywhere was pretty appalling. He assumed it was that way for almost everyone.

After washing his hands and flushing the toilet, he stepped out and cautiously made his way to the room he'd been placed in. He still felt a little lightheaded, and if this all turned out to be anxiety or stress then he'd genuinely be surprised. He hadn't ever heard of an attack of any kind lasting for more than thirty minutes or so, over five hours had to be some kind of record.

"Everything good?" Darry asked as he stepped in, in which Ponyboy simply nodded in response.

"Where'd the doc go?" He asked slowly, hoisting himself onto the bed carefully and placing the cup in his lap.

"He said he had to go check on some things, but he should be back any minute." He nodded once more, wincing at how his head pounded with the movement. A woman in blue came in, a bright smile on her peach colored lips.

"Hello." She greeted softly, moving to Ponyboy's side and grabbing a few things from the rollable table that trailed behind her. "I'm Sheila, I'll be your nurse for the evening."

"Hi, Sheila." The fourteen year old replied quietly. She'd taken the cup and placed it on the table, but his eyes were locked on the thin needle she was currently sliding out of a plastic wrapper. He didn't like shots, and drawing blood was about the same thing. If she were going to use it as an IV, too, it'd probably be on the whole time he was there here.

"I'm just going to take a sample of your blood and then we'll set up the IV to keep you hydrated and such." Couldn't he just... drink some water? He thought about actually bringing this one up, but refrained. He'd just have to take this like a man. Needles weren't so bad, yeah? He'd only gotten a few shots in his life, and his blood had been taken once when he was younger. If he survived it then, he could survive it now. "This is going to feel a little tight." She warned before tying the long blue rubber band over his upper arm. She pulled both ends, the rubber squeezing roughly against his skin. He bit down on his lip hard, refusing to make any sound indicating that he was in pain. He'd probably bruise from it later, though.