Andrews eyes flashed open at the sound of coughing. It wasn't the normal coughing that he was used to, it was much more intense than anything he had heard from Norton. He tried to turn his head, sit up as fast as he could to check on Norton. But he couldn't move. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't move. He began to panic as the coughing turned into noises of suffocation, and he just couldn't move. Not even his fingers. His breath quickened, he could barely see Norton out of his peripheral vision.
Whenever this would happen, Andrew would silently wait for it to go away, and then wake Norton up. He would claim he had a horrible nightmare, and couldn't go back to sleep. Norton, being the wonderful man he was, would hold Andrew in his arms and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. It calmed Andrew down, making him feel more at home than he thought was possible.
Norton was sitting at the side of the bed, his hands grasping and clawing at his throat. He felt like someone was physically choking him to death, and his chest hurt with the fiercest pain he had ever felt in his entire life. He couldn't seem to get even one breath in. He tried to call out for Andrew, for anyone, but his choked voice was incomprehensible.
Suddenly, the choking stopped. Andrew couldn't see Norton out of his peripheral vision, but he heard a thud. The air went still, and there was little to no sound. Andrew finally managed to slowly drag himself out of the paralysis and pulled himself to the edge of the bed.
There Norton was. Unmoving, and horribly silent. Norton was never that silent. Not even in his sleep, when he would sometimes wake up in a small coughing fit. Andrew would rub his back through it, and get him water or whatever he desired.
Norton was curled up on the floor, holding his throat. Andrew felt himself getting dizzy as he reached out to touch Norton with a shaky hand, and was met with the fading warmth of Norton's cheek.
"Oh. Oh god." Andrew said, yanking his hand back. He was unable to tear his eyes from Norton's presumably dead body. He clutched the cross around his neck, as if that would in some way take him out of this dream. Andrew honestly couldn't tell if it was a dream, or if this was real. Usually, he was okay with touching dead bodies. It was nothing he hadn't done before, but feeling the life retreat from someone's body, especially the body of someone he had loved, made him feel sick to his stomach.
Dead bodies were cold as stone. He wasn't used to touching them when they were fresh, it was a sensation that made him feel the bile in his throat rise.
Andrew didn't have a clue of what to do. Who was he supposed to call? What was he supposed to do? Out of panic, he got up and stumbled his way to the home phone. He called the only person he could think of calling: Emily Dyer.
Emily was a friend, as well as a doctor.
"Andrew? Why are you calling me? It's three A.M." Emily mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She let out a yawn after her words.
"Emily. Norton's dead." Was all Andrew managed to get out, his mind was still so jumbled.
"What? What do you mean?" A sense of urgency entered Emily's voice. She sat up fairly quickly, paying much more attention to how Andrew sounded. If anyone else were calling, she would think it was just a prank and go back to sleep. Andrew never played pranks, frankly he hated them.
"He's dead. I don't... I don't know what happened. He's just fucking dead." For some reason, Andrew was getting frustrated with the doctor. Why couldn't she just read his mind? Why couldn't she understand? It wasn't like he was speaking a different language. Was he? At that point, he was starting to doubt his own reality.
"I'll... I'll come over. I'm on my way. I'll call the police on the way." Emily said, hurrying to hang up the phone so she could go to Andrew. Sliding on whatever shoes were nearest, she speed walked out of her house and into her car, dialing 911 on the way.
Andrew let in a shaky inhale, not sure what to do while he waited. He ended up sitting at their dining room table, eyes glued on the front door. He didn't want to go back into their bedroom, let alone even think about it. But that was all he could think about. Norton's dead, crumpled body. He felt like he was going to puke.
Even though it only took Emily twenty minutes to get to Andrew's house, it felt like an eternity to Andrew. When she finally got there, all he did was glare at her, and point to their bedroom. She didn't want to bug him, since she had seen many grieving patients and knew it was best to let them be.
Again, it felt like Emily was taking her sweet time doing what she needed to. In reality, she was actually rushing, just trying to get the results to Andrew as fast as possible.
Norton was definitely dead. There was no question about it. Emily could only tell that he died from some sort of asphyxiation, due to his scarily blue tinted skin.
"I'm so sorry, Andrew." Emily said, slowly walking back into the kitchen.
The nausea and dizziness returned as fast as it had left Andrew's body. He slowly got up, feeling like if he moved even a little too quickly he would faint. He steadied himself by grabbing the table.
"The police are on their way. It's okay. Everything's okay." Emily spoke, moving closer to Andrew in an attempt to comfort him. She reached a hand out, and tried to take his in hers. He jerked away, glaring at her again.
Everything wasn't okay. His boyfriend had just died. Andrew couldn't believe she would lie to him like that, saying something as absurd as 'It's okay.' As if that would bring Norton back. As if that would make everything actually okay.
"Please... Please don't touch me... Please get out of my house..." The bitterness in Andrew's words was hurtful. Emily showed no emotional response, but inside it made her feel crazy. She took a deep breath, and nodded. She felt nothing but sympathy towards him, and wished she could understand a pain so deep. The pain that was inhabiting his body.
The doctor strode towards the front door and was met face to face with the police. Her eyes widened in surprise as she slowly stepped back to make way for them.
There was an ambulance and two police officers. The paramedics and police officers came rushing into Andrew and Norton's home all at once. Andrew wanted to scream at them to leave, all of the noise and people immediately becoming too overwhelming for him. He kept quiet though, as he wasn't even sure if he could scream.
Norton was pronounced dead for the third time that night. They took him out on a stretcher, with a sheet covering his body and face. Andrew's chest hurt, knowing that someone he loved so much was under the sheet. The sheet he had seen oh so many times.
He rode with the paramedics and Norton to the hospital, so they could do an autopsy and determine the cause of death. He was greeted with the unpleasant smell of medicine and death when he walked into the hospital. Andrew instantly felt sick again, the reality of his current situation beginning to fully set in.
Norton was alive mere hours ago. Alive, well, and breathing not even twenty-four hours ago. This felt like the worst nightmare to Andrew, yet no matter how hard he pinched himself, he didn't wake up. He sat in the waiting room and immediately put his head in his hands.
This could've been avoided; if he had just told Norton about the paralysis he experienced, maybe that would've solved everything. Maybe if he had said 'I love you' back, Norton wouldn't have died. Why couldn't he just say the three words?
Andrew began to think. So far, the majority of the people he's cared about have died. It couldn't be a coincidence, there had to be a reason. His thoughts flashback to his childhood, and the nickname he was terribly familiar with.
The white haired monster.
