Falling ♡ Timothée Chalamet

39 - walls

The white hospital walls are suffocating me.

They remind me of times I just want so badly to forget.

My mother was taken to a hospital like this when she crashed her car looking for me on the streets. She died here, spent her last waking moments here. It's not a memory I want to relive.

I was brought here multiple times when Aaron felt like my injuries from dad were too severe. He would wait for me as the doctor checked out my bruises and asked me what caused them. I would lie and make up a different story every week and the doctor would somehow believe me every time I lied. Maybe I'm a good liar, or maybe he didn't care enough to know the truth. Eventually I stoped going. My bruises simply healed overtime.

I recall that one night my father had pushed me down the stairs.. accidentally. It took him a long time to decide if he should take me to a hospital or not. At first he thought I was being dramatic, but then he noticed my leg swelling up and he came to his senses.

He took me to see a doctor.

I'll never forget that day because although he pushed me down those stairs, at least he showed a bit of humanity and drove me to get checked out. He complained about it the entire ride there, as if it was my fault my leg was broken. But I didn't care. It was the most human thing he'd done in years.

And I never forgot about that night.

We sit in the same waiting room we sat in when Alex was in a coma. The memories of those stressful days come rushing back. Everything about being here screamed disaster and tragedy to me, but I couldn't leave. My friend might die tonight.

I can't leave his side.

Aaron paces around in the tiny waiting room, his hands mess up his hair as he inhales and exhales deeply. Lisa cries silently in a corner, I want to comfort her but there's no use. What could I say? That he'd make it? I didn't know that. No one did.

We just had to hope for the best.

Timmy reaches for my hand which lies limp at my side. He caresses my knuckles with his thumb and the gesture is soothing. Instead of inflicting pain on myself to stay calm, having him here to just hold my hand was the best thing I could have asked for.

I don't know what I'd be doing if he'd left to California today. But I have a feeling I'd be a way hotter mess then I am right now. A knock on the door causes all of us to jolt up, startled and anxious.

'How is he?' Is the first thing Lisa chokes out when the doctor enters the small waiting room.

The doctor is hard to read, I can't make out whether what's about to come out of his mouth was going to be good news, or horrible news. But I still hold my breath in anticipation of what he was going to say next.

'We've managed to keep him stable.' He starts, avoiding Lisa's eyes because she looks way too broken at this very moment. 'He stopped vomiting but, his heart rate is still exceedingly fast and his body has not stopped producing sweat since he arrived.'

None of us speak. We just listen. 'He seems to be hallucinating too, saying absurd things and reaching out for people that aren't in the room. We're trying our best to help him but in the meantime I think you should see him. Speak to him. It's best he stays awake and aware, and that he doesn't slip into a state of unconsciousness.'

I finally exhale. Lisa nods but her cheeks are wet with so many tears. I want to reach out to her, place a comforting hand on her shoulder but I'm stuck. The doctor asks Lisa to go in first and she complies, sending all of us a sad look before following the doctor to her son's room.