Chapter 49: Blink

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On with the story, I suppose.

---Jared's POV---

"Ay, Mr. Curly Hair, 'sup with you?" I asked curiously, watching him mope around with the saddest expression, like, ever on his freckled face.

He sighed. Then he sighed again. I raised an eyebrow at Evan as Curly Hair avoided my eyes. When he still didn't say anything, I continued, "Does it have something to do with your boyfriend? I noticed he wasn't here today. Or yesterday afternoon."

"Jared!" Evan scolded me, trying to be stern. He was so adorable when he tried to scold.

John's face crumpled, and to my surprise, he promptly burst into tears.

"Jared!" Evan reprimanded me again. That's all he said but we knew the rest of the sentence. You just made a teacher cry!

I felt bad. Really, I did. I wanted to show that, so, naturally, I asked, "What happened?" also because I needed to know the tea.

Curly Hair wiped his eyes with his sleeves, clearly trying to pull himself together. "Tried to commit," he finally choked.

Evan sucked in his breath, and I did too. So did half the class. I was mildly surprised there was air in the room at all because I was having a hard time breathing.

"He, he- suicide?" Evan stuttered into the silence that befell our chaotic kingdom.

That was my question. No fair. "What, what he said." I managed, terrified of the answer.

Curly Hair nodded. It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. "This is so sad, Alexa, play Despacito." John looked confused, but he probably knew enough to know it wasn't a reverent reaciton.

"Jared!" Evan gasped, "At least a few, can, can you just give, can you have a little respect?"

I felt a flush crawl up my neck. "Sorry," I muttered. I actually hadn't meant to. It was kind of a reflex.

"Will he be OK?" Alana asked, concerned.

I didn't know how to ask, but I had the same question, and the class waited with bated breath for the answer. My class clown persona restricted me from asking but not from caring.

"I-I don't know," Curly Hair replied hopelessly.

Zoe approached the desk, tugging on Alana's hand. "Maybe we should leave him alone for a bit, OK guys?"

The small crowd gathered around Curly Hair disbanded like bathbombs rolling across the floor.

"Sorry about that," I apologised reluctantly, knowing it was the right thing to do. "I'm sure he'll be fine, though." I said this more as a hope than an assurance.

He tried to smile but it looked like a grimace. "I don't know if he wants to." Hot damn, talk about honesty.

I gave his lost look a soft smile. "Maybe give him a reason to stay."

God, he was confused? How could he possibly be confused? It was so obvious that they were in love!

I rolled my eyes, but not in a hurtful way. "Here, let me bring this down to your level," I estured, my hand coming down as I narrated, "Tick, tick, tick. Okay, so here we are at amatuer gay level. You like him, he likes you, he wants to die, tell him how the fuck you feel about him, give him a reason to stay."

Curly Hair did nothing but gape, his curly hair curling more in shock. "He doesn't..." I heard him stutter under his breath, "He's already..."

"I won't tell you it's not too late, but I will tell you that in the past, it was the not doing that I regretted most."

Curly Hair opened his mouth, probably for another disclaimer- what was he, a bathbomb commercial?- but he was cut off by the ringing of his phone. He gave me the softest nod and checked the number. His face instantly whitened.

The hospital, I thought dully, afraid of what the news was. Curly Hair was too, I bet, from the way he started to hyperventilate.

"Yo," I called semi-loudly, trying to snag his attention like I did whenever Evan started doing this. "It'll be fine, OK? 'S gonna be alright, jut answer the phone. Probably good news, right?"

Curly Hair did, and the entire class froze, trying to hear wheat the person on the other end was saying through the scratchy phone. We gave up and watched Curly Hair's face.

Still. Then he swallowed. Then he nodded, seemed to realize they couldn't see him and replied, "Yeah, that's me." We waited for a second that lasted longer than a vine contemplation.

Then his face went slack with relief and he almost tripped over his chair on the way out the door. "Sorry, gotta go guys, see you!"

I hoped he would follow my advice.

---John's POV---

He blinked, he blinked, he blinked! I had felt guilty the first time I used his car, to drive back from the hospital but no guilt followed me this time as I practically hurled myself down the empty streets. He blinked. No one would stop me from getting to the hospital.

"Hi. Alexander Hamilton-" I started breathlessly, my breath puffing.

The person at the desk waved me on. "Yeah, you're that boyfriend. Don't let me get in the way."

I was surprised, but didn't argue. Didn't hospitals have better security that this? I knew how to get to his room soon enough. All it took was a glance at the map because I knew his section- FN, and his number, 2187. (sorry, not sorry).

FN-2187. I was there in minutes, leaving a twisted trail of confused, offended, and annoyed looks behind me as the people I cut off watched me pass.

"Alex." I gently reached out to squeeze his hand, and the person in the room gave me a look. I drew back guiltily. They were changing his bandages, so touching him with any pressure or germs wasn't a good idea, not with his arms the raw mess they were now.

"Can you hear me? Alex?" I watched his face with anticipation and then...

He opened his eyes!

"Alex!" My voice cracked and became a shrill squeak, but I didn't care. I didn't give a damn about anything except looking into his beautiful chocolate eyes, sharp and light and alive. "Oh, thank god you're alive!" I gasped.

"Keep your voice down," the guy attending to Alex stepped out of the room and I smiled at Alex with all of my being. Nobody was going to keep me from talking to Alex.

What Jared said to me flitted through my mind, a rainbow butterfly that wouldn't stop bugging my thoughts.

"Yeah," Alex replied, not exactly dully, but not brightly either. "I'm alive." I thought if I hadn't been exuding happiness with my entire soul he would have been frowning. Or worse, crying.

I looked him honestly and openly in the eyes, hoping to say what I wasn't brave enough to speak. What I did say was, "Yes. You're alive. And that's a good thing."

Alex just shook his head unhappily, his soft, dark dark brown hair rustling against the white hospital pillow gently, his normal ponytail out. His eyelashes stood dark against his skin as he blinked slowly, looking pale. Probably because of blood loss. His eyelashes looked wet- almost like tears.

I thought about how often a person tells someone not to commit suicide because of how wonderful life is and could be. I understood how annoying this could be because they're obviously not feeling that wonder.

Finally, I asked, "Why did you do it, if you're comfortable talking to me- and, and what can I do to help?"

Alex let out an incredulous laugh and looked at the wall, a small breath of disbelief on his face. "Well, I'll start from the beginning, I suppose."

































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