𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 ; 𝘉𝘺𝘭𝘦𝘳

𝟏.

Running. There was a lot of running.

Consistent motion on his legs to counteract the faucet in his eyes; the urgency of an important part of him on their death bed; the thought of being too late or not being able to save him is what kept Will running. He was no where near athletic, but today he was a track star, jumping over hurdles of snow and battling the harsh cold that he hated so much. Nothing could compare to the ache of the unknown, the uncertainty of an outcome. The loss of a life.

Slam! went the hospital doors when Will entered. He rushed to the counter, rapidly taping the bell with unnecessary force and strength that attracted the attention of the entire waiting room. The dark-skinned lady sitting in the chair behind the counter rolled her eyes unsympathetically and sighed, sliding the beige telephone down from her ear and holding it to her chest.

"Who you here for kid?" She asked in a grumpy tone. Her voice sounded raspy—like she had been smoking cigarettes all her life.

"Mike Wheeler!" Will answered frantically, accidentally yelling from how anxious he was in the moment. Taking her sweet time and adding to his stress, she took out her clipboard and searched through the names. When she found his she asked, "Relationship to the patient?"

Boyfriend! Partner! Lover!

"Friend." He instead told her, as much as it pained him to do so. Friends don't spend every moment thinking about each other. Friends don't blow off everyone just to be with each other. Friends don't kiss and then suck each other's dicks.

"He's in surgery right now. Sorry." She said with fake condolences.

Will walked away from the counter, deciding she would be no help. In the waiting room, chairs sat against the walls and in the middle with their backs were against each other. One face in the myriad of crying or concerned faces was one be recognized all too well, one that triggered him—triggered them to come back.

What the hell is he doing here! He and Mike aren't close like that.

Troy sat in one of the red, cushioned chairs with his hands covering his face and his fingers digging through the hair. He must've felt Will's eyes on him, because he tilted his head up and they locked gazes. His eyes were red and glossy, his nose puffy. Tissues surrounding the table next to him. It was the first time in a long time that Will had seen him look so...vulnerable.

Maybe he was the one that brought him here, he could've saved his life!

"Why're you here?" He asked, taking the empty seat next to him. Will crossed his legs and rested his intertwined hands on his knee, fiddling with them nervously.

Troy tilted his head towards him and whispered, "I did this." He felt too ashamed to say it any louder, but Will's silence let him know he got the message.

Will, it's time to kill this mother fucker, he's been given way too many chances.

Just hear him out, maybe he didn't do what you think.

Will tried to listen to the second voice but couldn't get himself to think straight. His concentration stayed on the gray tiles on the hospital floors. The lights flickered with the motion of his eyebrows as they moved down to the top of his eyes. He started squeezing his fingers, turning them pink.

"I—" he started before being interrupted by a young nurse who wore a calm but urgent face.

"Are you two here for Mike?" She asked, sounding a little out of breath. The boys nod and she continues. "During surgery there were some complications. Nothing to worry about but there is 60% chance that we might have to amputate one of his legs or he'll never be able to walk again."