Then There Was One

Chapter 4

Lance's POV

I wake up in a white room with my arms around a warm body. I look down to see Jaymi. I smile softly and run my fingers along his arm gently. He's so beautiful. I refuse to accept that this perfect human being is dying. He will get better, I know it. He stirs slightly and I soon see those beautiful blue-green eyes. I smile softly and look down at him. "Good morning, beautiful." He blushes lightly and presses the button to move the bed up. I see him wince then grab his stomach. I furrow my brows. "Hey, are you okay?" He waves me off and tries to reach the nurse button, but moves his hand back to his stomach. I move to press the button for him but he shakes his head and points to a bucket. I grab the bucket and as soon as I did, he threw up into it. It wasn't moral though because he was puking up blood. I set the bucket on the bed and press the nurse button. Soon a nurse comes in. "Yes, Jay-" He stops midsentence when he sees him puking up blood. He widens his eyes and looks at me. "Sir, you're going to have to leave." He leads me out as a doctor goes in the room. The last thing I see was Jaymi collapsing on to the floor.

***SKIP A FEW HOURS***

Lance's POV

I don't know how long I've been sitting, waiting for the signal that he's okay. I'm getting worried. I've never seen someone so sick. I also didn't realize how sick he was. He always says he's fine, although, I never believe him. I'm pacing the room somewhat while biting my nails. I don't think I've been this worried about someone since my brother went into the military and was on the verge of death. The nurse, that was tending to Jaymi, comes in the room and smiles at me, but I could tell it was forced. I walk over to him and look in his eyes. "Lance?" I nod my head and drop my hands. "Yeah, that's me." He sighs softly and looks in my eyes. "He wanted me to give you this. He might not make it until tomorrow. We are trying to do everything we can. He hit his head pretty hard when he fell to the floor." He gives me the present and leaves as the tears run down my face. He might not make it until tomorrow. No. He WILL make it until tomorrow. I know he will. He's a strong person. Little did I know, I had no choice in whether he lived or not. That's all up to the man upstairs. I wipe my tears and sit in a chair and look at the present the nurse gave me. It was a football with my name stitched into it. I feel the tears start to come again and try to blink them back but that doesn't help. He might not make it until tomorrow.