Help with physics, Lazarev?(English version)

Chapter 8 "Control yourself, Bilan"

Rule number one — don't give up and go ahead.

April 5, 2008
Late night, 01:37
Bilan has been sitting motionless for several hours. There is a heavy stone on his heart. He doesn't dare close his eyes until the doctors finish the operation. The hospital was quiet. Only the voices of surgeons were muffled from the operating room. The clock was ticking. Every tick hit Bilan with pain. Hypnosis was spinning his head. My eyes were blue. The light occasionally blinked, giving off an alien atmosphere. The elder's stomach was rumbling, he was madly hungry. My mouth has been dry for a long time. My nose has been blocked for a long time. Beeping sounds began to be heard from the surgery door. Bilan froze. Breathing stopped.
— We are losing it!!!
The sounds of a prolonged squeak of the device.
The doctors were screaming. Emptiness and fragments. If the singer moves, he will crumble into millions of pieces. "Discharge!" — it was heard over and over again. The short sounds of the machine resumed. The blond took hold of his heart and leaned back with an exhalation. Closing his eyes, he tried to move away from bad thoughts. Eurovision again... But it was impossible to leave the boy. The ringing in his ears and the languid cry of the young man for help seemed to him all night. He was so closed in himself that he could hear the pounding of his own heart. There was a cactus by the window, opposite the office. There were drawings of children on the window frame. More precisely, their self-portraits. Facts about them were written on them.

"Hi, I'm Sasha. I'm seven years old. I have cancer. "

Dima barely read, sitting in his seat.

My thoughts were mixed up with each other. There was a feeling of fear from within. But he just exhaled. The night corridors of the hospital did not give confidence, it did not frighten Dima a bit.

Suddenly Lazarev came out from the other end of the corridor. The singer choked at the sight of him. The legs were completely disfigured. Bones were visible. There was a terrible sadness and panic on the boy's face. He was slowly approaching, leaving bloody footprints behind him. Bilan couldn't move, couldn't say a word. The light in the hallway went out. The loud footsteps stopped.

April 5, 2008
Morning, 11:16
The elder woke up in a place he didn't understand. Everything blurred in my eyes. He tried to get up, but the pain from the needle went all over his body. He was instantly attached to the bed. Opening his eyes completely, the blonde looked around. And indeed, he was lying under a drip. He was wearing white hospital clothes. He sat down. Dima was alone in the ward. Reaching for his jeans lying on the nightstand on the right, he took out his damn cigarettes and a lighter. The artist completely forgot about the rules. He easily lit a cigarette and put it in his mouth. I couldn't remember what happened yesterday. The second cigarette, the third, the fourth... The butt of the fourth cigarette reminded of Lazarev, because the boy was afraid of this figure. Behind him, I remembered last night. There were a lot of questions. A doctor entered the room.

— Oh, you've already woken up, Dmitry Nikolaevich, how are you feeling? You've been sleeping for a very long time," the doctor pointed to the window, behind which the sunset was already visible.

— Good evening. I am well. He tried to get up from the bed, but the doctor stopped him and laid him down.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to stay here at least until tomorrow. Your hemoglobin has dropped. Last night you were too worried about yours... Mmm, isn't that the son?...

— No, this... My brother, cousin, yes. Okay, I'll stay... Wait, there's something wrong with your voice. What about Lazarev? — Dima frowned and looked at the snow-white blanket.

— Don't worry about that. He's behind the wall, recovering from surgery. You need to donate blood in half an hour. We'll bring you food after, will it suit you?