Chapter 10:
When Taylor and Nick walked into Brian’s hospital room and
approached his bed, they both gasped in unison, but for different reasons.
“Like, ohmygod, look at me!” Taylor screeched, as she caught a
glimpse of her reflection in the stainless steel tray that sat next to the
bed. “My, like, mascara is all, like,
smudged! Like, ohmygod!”
Nick, on the other hand, had gasped at the sight of Brian, not
himself.
And this is the part where we describe in great detail how fragile
and sickly Brian looks to make the boppers go “Awww, my poor little Babyduck!”
and then burst into tears and lose all touch with reality and cling to the
Brian posters on their walls, sobbing hysterically and screaming, “Ohmygod, no,
not my Brian!” until their mothers come in with the Nyquil to get them to stop
freaking out and calm down.
So here goes…
The man lying in the bed did not look at all like Brian. His already small frame looked even tinier,
dwarfed by the hospital bed. His skin
looked like death, paper white, ghostly pale, ashy gray (basically all the same
adjectives we used to describe Nick’s skin when he was in the coma in Chapter
7… you get the point). He was surrounded
by the usual plethora of medical machinery and the orchestra of strange and
annoying noises coming from them, including the beep of the heart monitor
positioned near the head of the bed.
For a moment, Nick stood frozen, his feet firmly rooted to the
ground, afraid to go any closer. But
then, a tiny voice in the back of his head urged him forward, saying, This
is your best friend. You have to be
there for him.
“Stop talking to me,” Nick said to the voice. But he obeyed its command and forced himself
to go up further to the bed. While
Taylor licked her fingers and rubbed furiously at her cheeks, trying to get her
smeared mascara off, Nick stood next to Brian’s bed. He reached a shaking hand out, as if to take
Brian’s hand, but stopped. Brian looked
so fragile, Nick feared his friend would shatter if he touched him.
He’s not going to break, you dumbass. Just touch him, said the
voice in Nick’s head.
“Shut up!” Nick shouted.
“Get out of my head! Leave me
alone! Stop talking to me!”
Taylor glanced up at him and gave him a strange look, then went
back to trying to remove her mascara.
Again, Nick followed the voice’s advice and reached out for his
best friend’s hand. “Frick,” he
whispered huskily. “It’s me,
Frack.” (Notice how they always call
each other “Frick” and “Frack” in times like these… what’s up with that?)
Brian had not even flinched while Nick had been shouting at the
voice in his head. But now, at the sound
of his nickname, his deep, bright, twinkling, sparkling, crystal clear,
sapphire, cerulean (ooh, that’s a new one!
Look in your box of Crayolas, boppers, and you can find new adjectives
to describe Brian’s eyes!) blue eyes fluttered open. Only his eyes didn’t look like their usual
deep, bright, twinkling, sparkling, crystal clear, sapphire, cerulean, blue
selves. Instead, they were pale and
grayish and rather unfocused looking.
“Frack,” Brian said, his voice weak.
“Frick,” Nick said again.
“Frack…”
“Frick…”
And it went on like this for awhile, until, just when you might be
wondering whether this was going to turn into a slash story, Brian whispered,
“I love you.” (Oh yeah, I guess that
sounds pretty slashy too, doesn’t it?)
Nick was about to reply that he loved Brian too, but the words
died on his tongue (aww, poor words). A
block of ice formed in his stomach (brr! *shiver*) as he suddenly realized what
was happening.
“Don’t you do that, Frick,” he said fiercely. “Don’t you say your goodbyes.”
From the tray on the other side of Brian’s bed, Taylor suddenly
began to wail, and the mascara that was still left on her eyelashes began to
flow down her freshly-cleaned cheeks.
“You’re going to get out of here,” Nick went on, looking Brian
straight in the eyes (the pale, grayish, unfocused eyes that were once deep,
bright, twinkling, sparkling, crystal clear, sapphire, cerulean blue, don’t
forget). “You’re going to go on…”
“And… and make lots of babies!” Taylor sniffled. “And watch them grow! You’re going to die an old woman, warm in her
bed! Not now, not this night!”
“Damn, girl, just how many times have you seen that movie?!” Nick
asked, looking over at Taylor in astonishment.
“Hey, like, that’s not in the script!” Taylor cried indignantly.
“Whatever,” said Nick, turning back to Brian.
“Nicky,” said Brian, looking up at Nick. “I’m… I’m not going to… make it. Tell the guys… that I… love them.” His breathing was growing labored now, and
the beeping of the heart was beginning to slow.
“Brian, no!” Nick cried.
“No, don’t give up! Fight, Brian,
fight!”
Brian just smiled dazedly.
“Nick… I… love…” But he never got
that last word (which I assume would have been “you,” but who knows – maybe
Brian had a secret gay lover we never knew about) out, for at that moment, his
pale, grayish eyes rolled back into his head, and his chest stopped
rising. And then to be really dramatic,
here’s how we’ll end this chapter:
B E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E
E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E
E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E
E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E
E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E
E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E
E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E
E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E
E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E
E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E E P………………………
***