Come Back to Me [Boy x Boy]

Chapter 5

Jesse P.O.V

Today is Saturday, which means I can finally go to the hospital. On weekdays, the hospital visiting hours are over by the time I get home. Now that it's the weekend, I can finally spend time with the one I love.

I convince my dad to drive me to the hospital and drop me off in the afternoon. He knows that I won't be leaving until visiting hours are over. I want every possible moment I can with him.

"I'm picking you up at five, right?" my father asks, just to be sure.

"Five. That's when visiting hours end."

He nods as I get out of the car. I walk into the hospital, carrying my portable concentrator over my good shoulder. Some of the staff here practically know me by name. I'm here so often, whether it's for checkups or to see my partner.

I walk up to the front desk and sign in. The nurse working knows me and who I'm visiting.

"They moved him up a floor, same room number," she tells me.

"Thank you," I say with a soft sigh.

If I had gone up to his room and saw he was gone I would have been hysterical. Normally, when someone you're visiting isn't in their room, that means they've died. At least, that would be my first thought. Luckily, I was informed of his migration and I will be able to find his room easily.

The walk to the elevator is short, thankfully. The walk to his room will be longer. I know that I should save my energy for that walk.

My partner is now on the fifth floor. I don't know who else is up there. Perhaps it's a floor of comatose or catatonic patients. I'm not sure. I press the button to the fifth floor and wait.

The elevator doors open and let me out at my destination. Never before have I been on such an empty floor. It's quiet too. This must be a comatose floor.

The silence forces me to walk slowly. The last thing I want to do is disturb the peace. It's almost silent. The only audible sounds are when you get close to a door, you can hear several machines that are keeping the person inside alive.

I walk slowly and quietly down the hall before reaching my partner's room. I open the door cautiously, as if he were awake and might find it a disturbance. Unfortunately, I know he isn't.

A soft sigh escapes my aching lungs as I sit down on a couch that's next to the bed. My lover is hooked up to God knows how many machines. I couldn't even begin to count. It's upsetting to see him in such a dependent state when he was such an independent person.

The room is quiet. The only sounds are those made by the machines that are keeping him alive. It pains me to see him lying in bed, almost lifeless. The only real indication of life being the heart rate monitor.

"I wish you were awake," my voice trembles as I whisper.

Talking any higher than a whisper feels wrong. It's so quiet. I don't want to disturb anyone who is peacefully and involuntarily resting.

All is quiet on the floor until I hear heavy footsteps. Not stomping, per say, but heavy shoes; thick soles. The squeaking wheels of some kind of cart rolling on the tile. Both sounds disturbing the peace.

I sigh and begin to wait for the sounds to pass. Slowly, the sound travels down the hall, creeping passed every door until finally reaching this one. The sound stops and makes me grow anxious.

A shadow under the edge of the door makes my heart race. I'm not sure why, it just does. This person is most likely a nurse or doctor. I shouldn't be so anxious about that. Yet, I am.

The door opens slowly and I begin to feel like I'm out of my designated area; as if I'm skipping a class at my high school. The feeling just screams that I shouldn't be here.

On the other side of the door is simply a janitor. He comes in, nodding at me as he begins to clean the room. I lift my feet onto the sofa to avoid being in his way.

"Normally people don't come up here," he mumbles while cleaning.

"I'm sorry," I say softly, being unsure of whether or not I'm causing him trouble.

"I suppose people just sort of give up once they get moved up here," he says, nodding towards my partner.

Something about him doesn't sit quite right with me. Something about his tone comes off as creepy. I'm not sure what it is, but I don't like it and would prefer if he left.

"It's been a while since anyone came up here," his voice trails off toward the end. "It's always so quiet. People avoid coming up here," he continues, only making me more uncomfortable.

I slowly get up from my seat. "I'll be leaving now," I say quietly while walking towards the door.

The man cuts me off and closes the door. I flinch back as it slams shut. I suddenly have a far worse feeling than before.

"You're not going anywhere," he says with a growling tone.

I try to get around him, but he's strong and practically throws me onto the couch. My attempts to get up are fruitless. I'm held down easily against his strength. I'm practically a rag doll compared to this man.

I try to scream, having some naïve hope that someone, somewhere will hear me. Unfortunately, the man cuts my oxygen tube with a pocket knife, cutting off my oxygen supply.

I won't last long without it and I'm sure he knows that. As if this situation wasn't bad enough, it's in the room of my partner, who can most likely hear all of this, but is powerless in the situation just like I am.

The janitor pulls my jeans down with a sick grin on his face. My attempts to struggle are weak and getting weaker due to the lack of oxygen.

I scream as he forces himself into me. The pain is agonizing. My lungs are burning and my vision is going black. I can't stop him from having his way with me. My screaming is weak, but he covers my mouth just in case.

I manage to bite his hand, resulting in a harsh slap to my cheek. I cry out in pain, desperate for anyone to hear my pleads. I'm growing weaker; my vision is going black.

I manage to make out something in the darkness. There's a lamp on the side table by the couch. It's in an arm's reach.

Quickly, while he isn't holding my arm, I grab the lamp an smash it against his head with every ounce of strength I have left. He growls and stumbles back for a moment. I can tell that he's on the verge of unconsciousness.

I quickly grab the alarm clock that was next to the lamp and smash that against his head until he's fully unconscious. My body is in agony and I can barely breathe.

I pull my jeans and boxers up and hastily tape the two parts of my oxygen tube with some medical tape that was lying around. After that, I run out of the room as fast as I can.

I practically collapse inside the elevator. Once the door is closed I begin to sob hysterically, which isn't helping my labored breathing. There's only one thought going through my head: Why me!?