Definitely Not Dying (camp camp) (maxneil)(COMPLETED)

one

Dying was incredibly lame.

That was one thing Max knew for certian. His stomach hurt like hell. His head throbbed. He wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. But he had better things to do. Like not die.

"You're overreacting, Nikki." Nikki and the other campers had come to the hospital. Max doubted that many of them came willingly- that tall bastard probably dragged them along. Nikki certianly had wanted to visit him, though, but they hadn't spent much time talking. Nikki was walked in, saw him in the hospital bed, and promptly started wailing. Max rubbed his temples. Her sobs made his headache worse.

"B-b-but Max! Our adventuress!" She whined and Max wished he wasn't so weak- he would've knocked her mouth close.

"I'm not fucking dying," he rolled his eyes, "We can adventure our balls out once I'm out of this hellhole. Just shut the fuck up." Being in constant pain did nothing to stop his fowl language. He was lying to her, of course, because he honestly couldn't think of a way out of this mess. He was dying. His last adventure had been fun, at least.

His last adventure had been with Neil and Nikki, the day before he started to feel sick. They had set out on knitting a very large and somewhat dangerous contraption. Max normally would rather die than do knitting camp (an ironic choice of words, looking back on it now) but it was the perfect cover up for their plotting. They, by the end of the day, had created a 90ft x 200ft knitted blanket. It was almost ten hours of combined work and it turned out just as Neil had told them it would. They then took their giant blanket and wrapped it around the councilor's cadin, with David and Gwen inside. They were trapped inside for a solid 72 hours until the Quarter Master released them because he wanted free labor.

His last adventure. A great one.

The day after Gwen and David were released from their cabin, Max developed a stomach ache. And then a pulsing headache. Fatigue, muscle soreness, dehydration no matter how much water he drank. That evening he promptly passed out, which was undeniable embarrassing.

The doctors couldn't diagnose him with anything specific; he seemed to have multiple things going wrong. But they said if the dehydration did not let up he would not last long.

They had been injecting him with water, but his body had not been accepting it. He'd been vomiting non-stop whenever he had the water drip in, which only caused the dehydration to worsen.

Max didn't feel good. He didn't feel up to talking to anyone, let alone Nikki. He didn't know why he was lying to her. He was going to die.

But, dying, that's an incredibly lame thing to do. And if you're dying, people pity you. Max had better things to do than deal with people's disgusting pity. He would like to die in peace, thank you very much.

The doctors also told him that if he found the right mix of medication, he'd survive. The doctors were taking too long, so he'd likely get Neil to look into it. In the meantime, he could get Ered to convince everyone he was doing fine. She'd understand, after all. Dying was incredibly lame.

He'd tell Neil and Ered of his demise, he decided. Only them. To everyone else, though?

He definitely wasn't dying.