Room 1013

Conversations and Coffee

Two coffee mugs were set in front of them as they sat in a cozy coffee shop. Mack took a sip of his while Lance fiddled with his fingers.

The mug tapped the plate as Mack set it down, "So you've started getting flashbacks?"

"Yeah," Lance nodded, biting his lip. "Um, so you knew him?"

"Well," he took another sip, then sat back in his chair, "I was his nurse, too."

Lance was ready for all his questions to be answered. He felt like everything was coming so slowly. "So who was he?"

Mack's face brightened with a sweet smile, "Back then, I watched over him as he stayed in the hospital."

Lance raised an eyebrow, "He was a patient?"

"Yes," he reached for his cup again, scraping his finger over the rim. "You see, he got bored and lonely quite a bit. His parents had to work a lot," he waved his hand, "mystery job." He took a sip of his coffee, "So he would often sneak out of his room, which wasn't the best thing for him. I got onto him a lot about it, but I could understand his feelings. It wasn't hurting him, so I let him do it.

"One day, he found your room. You had just been moved to the pediatric ward. I found him there one day, thinking he was messing with the machines; but he wasn't." He chuckled in thought, "Even though I told him to stay out, he always went to you. I would find him coloring or playing with his toys or sometimes just watching all the machines connected to you."

Lance's face scrunched up in surprise, "Wait, so he just came to my room? Like, he wasn't family or anything?"

Mack gently shook his head, "No, he was just a kid." He took another drink, setting the mug down with a sweet smile. "When you left, he was–well, not alright, but he made it by." He motioned to Lance, "And so did you! You're doing great!"

Lance nodded, "So, who was he?"

"His name is Keith. Keith Kogane. I'm still kind of his nurse and he's grown just like you."

"How old is he?"

"He's almost eighteen now."

Lance leaned forward in his chair, "Well, where is he now? Still in the hospital?"

"Actually," Mack held up a finger, "he lives at home now. He gets care when he needs it, keeping him out of the hospital as much as possible."

"Uh," Lance rubbed the back of his neck and let out a nervous chuckle, "I know this sounds weird, but," he hesitated for a second, "could I maybe get his address or something?"

Mack seemed to fall into thought. It was a strange request, Lance knew that very well. Lance held up a defensive hand, "I know it seems stalker-ish, but I really want to meet him."

"Alright," Mack reached into the pocket of his jacket, "I'm not supposed to do this, but I think it could be good for him." He wrote onto a yellow sticky note pad, then handed him. "Here's his house address, just be wary with him."

"Wary?" Lance took the note and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Well," Mack stood, scraping the chair. "He's really fragile."

"Fragile? Like physically?" Lance stood as well.

Mack crossed his arms in comfort, giving a gentle smile. "Both physically and emotionally. You'll see."

Lance smiled at him, "Thank you so much."