Date: Fri, 12 Sep 2008 19:02:08 -0400 From: twe a Subject: Spencer's New Life: Chapter 2.1: In Sickness This story is for Nifty. If you want it too. Email me. Of course none of this is real and of course none of this refers to anyone. Title: Spencer's New Life Chapter: 2.1 - In Sickness *This section of the chapter does not have any "love" that would need to be cleaned up in it. 2.2 will, I promise. Night Oh my god he wanted to die. He coughed again sending spikes of pain down his throat. Was this ever going to end? He'd had his temperature taken so many times he'd given up counting. He silently wished his mom used those butt thermometers. He thought about it more, and decided that it would be actually creepy as all hell to have his mom stick something in his butt and was thankful for the oral version. His bed was too hot, -now it's freezing. He didn't know what time it was. He really didn't care. His body hurt, ached, and screamed whenever he shifted. His brain protested any thought with a feeling that somewhat resembled a jackhammer on his skull. Bad. Bed. Sleep. Day A knock at the door. His mother, she wouldn't leave him alone; she hadn't even waited for him to call her in. He really didn't know if he even could have. All he wanted was to lay there. Or just die. Either one, just so the pain stopped. She was gone, he hadn't noticed. The door hadn't even moved. Was he going crazy? Probably. No one should be tormented like this. God he was thirsty. Picked up a glass of water he somehow knew was by his lamp. Ugh, warm. He was roasting hot again. Dreamt about his mom in a hippopotamus cage. Rest. Night Cell phone rang. He decided to answer it. Picked it up, but it wasn't ringing anymore. Missed call: 3 hours ago. What? Who the... More sleep. Day The room was different. Where was he? Everything was white. Everyone was in white. Was he dead? What a rip off, now he's dead and his head still hurt. Comedy hurt, laughing hurt. Woman in a white hat. Went out again. Night His eyes opened. His vision focused. He was in a hospital. There were gifts everywhere. How the hell long had he been here? And who had eaten his fucking candy! Who eats a sick person's candy! He tugged one of the balloons down to see what it said. Get well soon. Was he still sick? He felt alright. "Hey! Hey!" He heard from the other side of the presents. He raised himself up quickly to see past the piles of junk. There was a sharp pain in his left arm. He looked over; an IV in him. Why? The room spun, everything went black. Thud. Morning He opened his eyes again. He tried to touch his head to feel the huge bump from when he passed out; but he couldn't. He looked down, his arms were bound to the cot he lay on. You're kidding. Where am I? - in the psych ward? "Hello?" he asked. No response. He pulled his non-IV'd arm hard. He had too little strength. He looked at his left, shuttered at the needle laying in his arm, and traced the line up to a hanging bag of fluid. The bag was labeled 'INN' and had one of those parts that dripped slowly. He found his call nurse button and pressed it. She came in quietly and he asked her to take of the straps, which she did. She watched him lean up carefully. He weakly smiled at her. Satisfied, she glanced at the monitors next to him and left. He looked around. Stuffed bears, balloons, cards, shoes?, whatever; candy. There was what looked like a pile of coats in the corner, piled on a chair. The blob heaved slowly. "Umm... Hello?" he said more loudly this time. The mass twitched and began shedding layers. It was like watching an unkempt caterpillar come out of a dirty cocoon. ...why was he allowed to think up analogies? The figure rose up its head and looked around groggily. Spencer stared at its defined muscles through the thin undershirt that it wore and thought he felt the hospital gown he was wearing feel suddenly become tighter. That is if he could feel anything at all with that stuff dripping into him. The figure focused its gaze on him and its eyes doubled in size. "Spencer! You're up a- awake oh Christ!" Tony nearly knocked the chair backwards as he physically clambered over the more than likely expensive medical equipment. "How do you feel? Are you ok? Does your head hurt?" Tony shot out questions faster than his mouth could keep up until he had started to produce a constant slur of vowels. "Mmmhmm" Spencer hummed, "I feel fine, but I think that this thing in my arm is helping with that." "Oh yeah, the morphine. Well do you want anything? Need anything?" Spencer looked around, looked at Tony, and looked down at his bed. He thought long and hard while Tony waited patiently, ready to jump at Spencer's slightest whim. Spencer looked back at Tony and blushed. "Umm well I have a question..." "Oh, What? Just ask." "...What... day... is it?" Spencer mumbled. "It's Tuesday... The 12th." "And... When was it that I got like this? "Well you've been in the hospital for 9 days; you were out at your house for 3, so you've not really been conscious for about 12 days." "Wow, I see. That's a long time huh." Spencer asked him a few other little questions. Who had brought all the gifts, what that nurse's name was, why they had bound him down to the stretcher, etc. The conversation subsided and Tony smiled at him, staring into Spencer's perfectly blue eyes. He tussled that thin blonde hair that hung so perfectly from his head, then slowly leaned in and kissed the boy softly on the lips while his hand cradled the small boy's head. He stayed there, enjoying the feeling that his friend was alright. Tony broke the kiss, but stayed close to Spencer's face. He looked back into the eyes of the boy wonder, searching for some words to explain why he had spent the last twelve days at Spencer's side. He knew he would have nothing to say to Spencer's family, what could he. Tony loved him, he had decided, and he didn't want to lie about it. Somehow that would make it less pure, or true in his mind. Spencer smiled weakly. Tony's loving gaze being met by only the confused face Spencer wore. His face turned red, "Can I ask you something else?" Tony was snapped back to reality by this blunt question. He chuckled to himself, 'God, Spencer probably has no idea what's going and I'm thinking about love and what I should do.'. He smiled again. "Anything you need to know, I'm here for you." Spencer stared at him, "Umm... W-who are you?" Preview of 2.2 Tony lay in bed, pondering what to do, how to proceed. It was dark out, and the air was cool. He stared through the window above his bed, out to the stars. He watched them twinkle; hoping they were saying everything was going to be ok. Hoping they weren't just judging him too. He could still smell the boy on him. He thought his mother had noticed on the way in, but he had just ignored her and went to his bed. She knew this meant that it was something that Tony had to deal with by himself. He was safe in the silence. He could think in the silence. The questions crept back into his brain: should he tell anyone? Would anyone listen? Or care? Would his mother care? Would his Dad? ...Yes... He knew the answer to that one... It didn't help though. He shut his eyes and breathed in deeply. He exhaled slowly, attempting to organize his thoughts and think about what was important. What about Spencer? If Tony was doing this, if he was the problem, he's making Spencer suffer... He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't. He had to end it, for Spencer's sake. The boy deserves a good life, and if it can't be with him, so be it. A single tear rolled down Tony's cheek. C'est la vie. Sorry it's short; I'm going home for the weekend. I'll get back to it in a couple of days. Peace, Kraark genericboy000@live.com