Untouchable (boyxboy)

Chapter 22

My dad is taken away to the ICU and I'm left in the limbo of the waiting room to fill out forms. I think there must be a special circle of hell where all they do is present you with an extremely stressful situation and then ask you to fill out a form.

I can barely remember my own name right now, much less all the information I'm asked to provide.

Somehow, I manage it though, and hand in the paperwork to the tired-looking man at the reception desk.

"Can I see him?" I ask.

"Someone will let you know," he says. "Have a seat, sir."

At least it seems to be a quiet night, as far as emergencies go. The waiting area is relatively empty. A young couple sits side by side, the man's hand wrapped in a bloody towel—another victim of the dreaded avocado, maybe, given their strong hipster vibe—and a mom and dad sit on either side of a boy with his arm held limply against his chest and tears streaking his plump brown face. From the helmet he's still wearing, I'm guessing a bike accident.

Other than these unfortunates, though, I have the place to myself. Eventually, the couple and the family are called away to be treated, and I'm left alone.

I watch the second-hand tick it's way around the plain, white-faced clock on the wall, mincing my terrible uncertainty into precisely cut intervals of time. An hour passes,  and then, somehow, I fall asleep, overcome by stress and fatigue.

The gentle brush of fingers through my hair draws me back to consciousness, and I realize I'm lying down across the top of several chairs with my head resting on something soft and warm. Opening my eyes with an effort, I come fully awake and look up into a handsome sun-browned face and a pair of green-gray eyes.

"Hey, beautiful," Isaac says, smiling down at me and continuing to comb his fingers through my hair.

I stare up at him, enjoying the dream. It feels quite real—the dried tears crusting my lashes, the way my lips crack when I try to smile, the sea-fresh scent of his skin.

It can't be real though, I tell myself. Isaac is far away, on a beach somewhere, riding the waves like a young, sea-born god.

"I wish you were here," I say, my voice a parched whisper. I take a breath and close my eyes again, letting the dream go, but it doesn't fade.

"I am here, Felix," Isaac says gently, brushing his hands over my face and making me open my eyes again. "I'm here. I'm here for you."

I sit up slowly, still unwilling to believe my senses. "You're...not a dream?" I ask. The answer is fairly obvious at this point, but it still seems impossible.

He shakes his head, his smile turning uncertain. "Isabelle called me. When she told me you had a performance, I couldn't stay away. I wouldn't miss it for anything, Felix—not even the best surfing on the planet."

"Isaac..."

I can't say more, but my voice holds what I mean.

"Hey, come here." Isaac pulls me into a hug, but I'm still a little off-balance, a little unsure that I can trust what's real, and I remain stiff and unyielding.

He waits, just holding me and not letting go, until finally my body and my mind realign, and I'm able to surrender. He feels me soften and tightens his hold just a little bit.

"Felix, I'm sorry," he says, hands stroking up and down my back. "I'm sorry I let all that shit come between us. I should've been here for you. I should've been right there, at your side. I'm sorry I ever let you go."

"How are you here?" I ask, pulling away from him slightly.

"I was at the premiere," he says. "I was right there in the front row, watching you be gorgeous on that stage. I don't think I even looked at the screen. I couldn't take my eyes off of you."