PruCan - Recover (Nights)

7

Except the night I returned, Matthew was far from "alright".

Our apartment was almost silent. This wasn't at first alarming, given Matthew was naturally someone who did not make a lot of noise, and he had been living alone for a while, and I couldn't imagine that made him louder. I put my things down, and padded into our bedroom, expecting him to already be asleep at this hour. The empty bed and the light under the bathroom door gave away where he was instead though, so I just knocked gently on the door to tell him I was back, and I wanted to talk when he was ready.

I changed into pajamas, and sat on the bed waiting for Matthew to come out. When it was a few minutes passed, I couldn't help but to knock on the door again.

"Mattie...? Please," I whispered. "Please, I want to make it up to you. Could I come in?"

He didn't respond, but when I tried the door, it didn't budge. Which was more impressive, because our doors didn't come with locks, just in case there was ever an emergency.

"Mattie, is the door blocked with something? Mattie?" I tried again, pushing a little harder. "Hey, are you in there?"

Water was running out from under the door.

In a full panic now, I started yelling – for Matthew, for a medic, for a psychologist, for another patient, for anyone – and I threw my whole body into the door, until finally it gave way and I nearly fell into the room.

The bathtub was overflowing with water, the tabs twisted to full blast. Matthew was slumped over the side, and I barely avoided slipping in the water over the tiles as I rushed to him. One hand searched for a pulse on his neck, while another fumbled to turn off the taps. Finding a faint pulse and managing to get the water turned off and the plug pulled, I pulled Matthew's sopping wet body out of the water that began to drain. His wet clothes stuck to him, and his soaked skin was freezing. With more strength than I thought I possessed in a moment where I wanted nothing more than to collapse on myself at the sheer weight of what was happening, I managed to grab a towel while I supported Matthew against me. I wrapped him up and lifted him into my arms, then ran out of the bathroom and our room.

Bursting into the hallway, which we had first walked down together so long ago, I was shrieking at the top of my lungs for help. Every door on the floor opened, heads poking out, some quickly ducking back in to yell at roommates to "Grab the phone, call someone, quick!", others rushing into the hallway to yell for help to and bang on doors to get other patients for assistance.

I staggered passed the rooms, grateful for the other hands that reached out to help when I felt my knees starting to give way, and my breathing going irregular.

"You are hyperventilating, you have to breathe," I heard a different German accent from my own instruct me. "You cannot help your roommate like this, you will be in a hospital bed right next to him."

I could hear Arthur and Antonio arguing with each other as they helped ease Matthew to the ground, and their roommates arguing behind them as well until Alfred The Hero ordered them to step back so both Matthew and I could get space. Kiku and Heracles were informing the others that they had called the medical unit, who were already on their way, but my hearing seemed to be going in and out. I felt around on the floor, where I suddenly found myself, trying to find Matthew. Ivan and Feliciano could be heard crying from the stress of the situation – and the abandonment of their roommates – and I could only manage to literally and mentally grasp onto Matthew, finding his hand and centering myself around this.

When the medics arrived with hordes of orderlies for our floor, I was curled around Matthew, fingers grasping onto his wrist, simultaneously keeping him close and locked onto his pulse.