Wasn't Meant To Be : Jamilton [Completed]

Chapter 32: The one in the hospital

John was silent the whole ride over, only speaking once they reached the front desk of the hospital. There, he said to Alexander, "I'll go up with you if you want, but I'm not going in the room."

Alexander curled up into John's side, nodding softly. "I understand..." he muttered.

John nodded and approached the receptionist to ask, "Could you please direct us to the room where Thomas Jefferson is, ma'am?" The lady nodded and looked it up on her computer. "316." John replied, "Thank you, ma'am," and headed for the elevator.

Alexander didn't leave John's side, closely following him to the elevator.

John pressed the button for the third floor and the elevator began to rise. Quietly, he asked, "Are you sure you wanna do this?"

Alexander nodded softly. "Yes." He whispered.

"Alright..." After a moment, the elevator stopped and the doors opened. John walked out, pulling Alexander with him. 

Alexander stumbled a tad but continued to follow John, looking at the different room numbers.

John stopped outside of 316, saying, "Well...good luck."

Alexander nodded, although he didn't say a word. He then slowly walked into the room.

Thomas lay in a room devoid of human life. There were no flowers, no cards. It was clear someone was there, as evidenced by a purse in a chair, but it was probably just Sally and she was nowhere to be seen. Thomas was asleep, it seemed, one cast-covered leg hoisted a foot off the bed. His once smug face was swollen all to hell, eyebrow and cheekbone stitched up. One arm lay pinned to his chest in a sling. All of this was a testament to the sheer power Hercules held when tearing a man apart.

Alexander spent a few solid minutes staring at Thomas in front of him. His eyes brimmed with tears one again. He didn't know what to think. This was the boy that he loved. The boy that used him. The boy that didn't stop when asked. The hot one. The smart one. But here Thomas was, beaten and laying on a hospital bed. Alexander walked towards him, keeping silent.

Thomas groaned faintly and his good hand moved shakily over to press the morphine button. After a second, eyes still closed, he mumbled, "Sally?" His voice was pretty rough. 

Alexander froze. What was he supposed to do? "U-uh... I-I..." he stuttered, looking at Thomas.

Thomas managed to get his eyes open and, upon the sight of Alexander, he groaned, "Aw, hell no." He pressed the morphine button a few more times, but he was limited to that one dose a few seconds ago.

Alexander was truly about to cry. "Thomas...." he whispered softly.

"What?" Thomas kept pressing the button for a moment before giving up. "Did you bring your asshole friend up for round two?" He shifted over in the bed as best he could. 

"No... Thomas please... d-don't act like that now!" Alexander begged.

"Act like what?" Thomas snapped, scooting over to the far edge of the hospital bed. "Somebody who's got every right to be pissed?" Still, he patted the now-empty space next to him and muttered, "C'mon. Whoever brought you here can wait."

Alexander looked down to his shoes, before sitting on the edge of the bed. "Thomas... I... just wanted to see you...that's all I wanted...."

"Yeah, well, you can see me while I hold you. You look worse than I do. Who did that to your hair? Lay down." Thomas was trying to get it all out before the morphine really hit.