teach me gently on how to breathe || tradley/brad

عديم الشفقة

When the door swings open, Brad has to squint as he steps into the light and laboriously drags himself down the long, bright hallway, passing by large shining windows. If it weren't for the anxiety twisting in his stomach, he would feel lightweight and dreamy, like he's walking through a fantasy. But he dreads making it to the other side of the door. Whoever is behind it, the sixteen-year-old doesn't want to see.

The nurse pushes open the door and Brad hears someone laugh. There are tables set up in a room with soft lights, carpeted floors, and normalcy ― the opposite of life on the other half of the medical center. Brad wonders if he's even in the same building, but a nurse is still alongside him, following him around everywhere and monitoring him, and the thought quickly dies out. He suddenly wishes he were walking through the white hallway of one minute relaxation again, except he'd rather it not be in this place.

In the corner of his eye, he catches someone waving, and then his heart drops at the sight of who his visitor is. Brad doesn't know why he believed he wouldn't come. He already knew it wasn't going to be his parents: his mum told him that they weren't going to be visiting since she worried they'd interrupt Brad's "recovery". But Brad believes sitting across from his mum or dad for an hour would be better than sitting across from Drew. They have nothing to talk about. And even if Drew has something to say to him, Brad already knows he's not going to want to listen.

He hesitantly leads his nurse towards Drew, and sits across from him. Surprisingly, the nurse walks away, and stands at the side of the room where she can see them, but can't hear them. For once, Brad wishes she would've stayed beside him. Maybe she would've made it so awkward for Drew, he'd feel too uncomfortable to talk to Brad normally.

"Hey," the blond greets, smiling at him, like the two didn't stop talking to each other four months ago. Brad wonders if Drew actually doesn't think anything has changed or if he's just trying to ignore the fact everything has.

The first thing Brad notices about him is the absence of a camera around his neck. Brad can't remember a time Drew didn't have a camera with him, and he doesn't understand why it makes everything feel so strange ― stranger than things did before.

Drew catches onto where Brad's attention is and lets out a laugh. "This lady at the front desk confiscated my camera," he explains. Brad looks away, feeling a little embarrassed. "Don't worry. I haven't changed at all."

Instead of replying, Brad directs his eyes down towards the wooden table, since in here, it's all he can really look at. Unsurprisingly, Drew continues speaking. "It's really nice here. Everyone is nice, too. Like, the nurses and stuff. I was worried it'd be shitty here, but it's actually quite okay. I mean, you like it here, don't you?"

Brad doesn't answer him.

"People are really worried about you," he says, jumping into another subject. "Like, at school, and my family and stuff. They really want you to be okay. I want you to be okay, too."

I was okay until I came here, Brad angrily thinks.

"You look better already," Drew tells him, "even though you've only been here for five days you're making a lot of progress. I think you'll be fine."

Brad heavily exhales and tugs his sleeves over his hands out of boredom.

"I have something for you." The curly-haired boy blankly watches him take off the book bag he didn't even notice he had on, and hurriedly search through it. He quickly catches hold of what he's looking for and pulls two things out. It's a small frame and a photo, of course. The photo isn't inside of the frame, though. Drew pulls out both items separately, and places them in front of Brad. "You can put this in your room, if you want."