Grunge One Shots

Layne Staley 3

It's quite cheesy but, hey, that's not always a bad thing.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The nauseating sound that was being emitted by the clock just seemed to be getting louder and louder. With every passing second, the pounding in my head seemed to grow louder and louder.

You see, everything seems to have a certain sense of unease in a hospital. Especially the waiting rooms. They all simply have that quality of being able to unravel all of your sanity like a spool of thread running down the stairs. Well, that was if you had not already lost it when you received the news that someone who trusted you enough to put you as an emergency contact, had been shot due to a drug deal gone wrong.

Layne Staley.

It was such a familiar name for many others, but, for me? There was still a sense of enigma to the name and person. Even after having known him since high school, the two of us now being in our early twenties, there was still something about him that I couldn't seem to place my finger on. It plagued my head, twisted my thoughts, and always left a burning pit in my chest. I was always too puzzled by the sentiment to dare question it.

I hadn't noticed that hours had passed. People had left, some weeping, some ecstatic, and some with a cold, almost emotionless, sense of despair that seemed to darken the aura of wherever they had trodden. It was now nighttime. Although, you wouldn't have known that if you hadn't decided to look outside the window. Despite how late it was, I didn't feel a sense of fatigue. That could've been partly due to my insomnia or sheer anxiety about my friend's state of well-being. Whichever one it was, it kept a steady stream of adrenaline flowing through my veins.

A nurse made his way towards me and began to speak, "Miss..."

"(L/N)," I murmured, meeting his eyes that had a sense of immortal gloom tattooed in the irises.

"Okay, Ms. (L/N). Your..." he trailed off once more.

"Friend," I mumbled. I was overcome by such a perception of dread that it was all I could utter before feeling my muscles stifle any other form of noise that may be released from my throat.

"Friend. Layne Staley. He is currently resting but, you can go see him if you'd like. His other friends are there, too," the nurse recited. He was clearly experienced. Even so, he still effused the words in a comforting manner.

"I'd like to see him, please," I said, now more clearly though still barely audible. I arose from the plastic chair, my joints cracking ever so slightly. The nurse nodded and guided me to his room. With trembling footsteps, I nervously made my way to Layne's room.

I was met with the door that would lead me to my friend's room a few moments later. I looked over to the nurse with tired eyes and thanked him. He merely nodded before drifting off to another part of the hospital. I turned my head back to the door that was only a few inches away from my face. I clashed with my thoughts while staring into the abyss of nothingness.

"Was I ready to see Layne like this?"

"Will I just run out?"

"I'm such a wuss."

"Stupid, stupid, stupid"

"Why am I so scared? The nurse said he was okay."

I hesitantly opened the door as I took a deep breath. When I opened my eyes, I was met with Sean, Mike, and Jerry all staring at me. Even though the nurse had told me he had visitors, I was still surprised that they were up so late. We shared a few moments of silence before the sound of my clicking heels replaced the stillness in the room. I made my way over to the boys. I looked at them in the eyes, trying to find what emotions were spinning through their thoughts.