100 Ways to Die [Joshler Oneshots]

So Who's Gonna Watch You Die?

Sort of based off/inspired by the song What Sarah Said by Death Cab for Cutie, except that I changed it a bit after the first few paragraphs. I still got a lot of the ideas from it though, and it's an amazing song, so I'll add it at the top of the chapter and you can listen to it either before or while reading. I think the song is longer than the oneshot though, sorry about that.  

Word count: 960

The waiting room never got any easier, no matter how many times he came here. He flinched at each sob emanating from grieving friends and family members around him. The whole place reeked of cleaning supplies and professionalism and an attempt to cover up the inevitable, and a dark cloud seemed to hang around the ceiling, circling the florescent lights in puffs of ominous grey. The whole atmosphere set him on edge. He really wasn't cut out for this, for being here all the time as he was, but what choice did he have?

 He stood in the corner and tried to keep to himself as best he could. It seemed like every time he came here he managed to convince himself that it would be easier on him if he just didn't look, if he tried to block out any unwanted sights and sounds and just focus on what he was here for, but it never worked. He didn't know why he tried anymore, but he did, and he doubted he would stop anytime soon. He shifted his attention to the TV in the corner, playing some random news channel that absolutely no one was paying attention to because there were more important things to be thinking about right now. He didn't want to think about those things though, so he did his very best to block out the rest of the room and focus on the voice of some newscaster telling him about the weather.

It didn't last long. He just couldn't help himself.  Nurses walked in and out, calling names and walking out to clusters of grieving loved ones. They spoke in hushed tones, making sure no one else could hear the private information they were disclosing. The people gave it away anyway though. After a few quiet words were whispered to a group, they would either lift their heads and shuffle towards the hallway on the other side of the room or let out a collective cry of absolute anguish and crumple in on each other right there on the vinyl chairs. He hated it, but he couldn't force his eyes to veer from the scenes playing out around him. Every single one hurt him a little more, cut him a little deeper, but he couldn't possibly look away.

Finally, an apprehensive-looking nurse appeared from the hall and began walking towards a particular group. He monitored each move of the interaction, holding his breath even though he knew what the outcome was going to be. 

The nurse whispered a few sympathetic words to the family, explaining the situation, and he watched with eagle-eyes filled with sorrow as each person they spoke to caved on top of each other with strangled and agonizing sobs. The tiny crowd managed to stand when they were beckoned down the hall, and that's when he pushed himself up from his place in the corner and timidly approached them. They wouldn't notice him- they never did- but it felt wrong to just walk up like he belonged there, because he didn't, and he knew it. So he practically slunk over, sneaking safely into the hospital room behind them just as the door shut. 

A boy sat on the hospital bed. He looked to be maybe seventeen, or somewhere around there, but somehow even after all this time he never really had become very good at guessing that kind of thing. The kid looked confused. He reached a pale hand out toward a tearful blonde woman, presumably his mother, then retracted it and stared at it in wonder when she didn't seem to notice a thing. The kid's wide eyes wandered over to him now, staring in surprise, probably wondering who the stranger in his hospital room was. Then again, by this point, he probably knew. People tended to figure it out. 

"Am I dead?" he asked hesitantly. 

He nodded solemnly. 

"They don't know that I'm awake?" he asked, referring to the family members still crowded around his bed and body in a clump of tears and grief. 

"You're not awake," he reminded the boy. 

The boy's eyes went downcast at that, but after collecting himself for a moment he slowly swung his legs around to plant his feet on the floor. His body stayed on the bed behind him, eyes closed, unmoving. 

"Do you want to say goodbye?" he asked the kid before he could stand up to leave.

He thought about that for a second. "They won't hear me?" he asked. 

"No."

"Then no," he decided after barely a moment's hesitation, going to push himself up.

"You're sure? This is the only chance you'll get. Make sure you won't regret losing it." He knew all too many people who made that same decision, then were haunted by it for years to come. He could understand though. 

The boy seemed to consider that, but ended up keeping his choice. "I'm sure," he nodded affirmatively. The room spun around them in a swirl of dull colours as he at last stood, and it continued to do so as he reached a guiding hand out toward the kid. 

The kid grasped it tightly. He hoped it would serve as a source of comfort, because where they were going there would be little more of that.

He paused to take one last look around the room. The crying parents, and the siblings who would never see their brother again. The nurse, stood somberly in the corner, ever sympathetic. The nauseating bleached look of it all, and the watchful fluorescent lights waiting for yet another tragedy to strike under their gaze. The kid waited patiently by his side as he took it all in. 

And with that, they turned together and he led the boy through the door for the last time.