my brother, my love, my life(les twins boyxboy)

chapter 4

The white asbestos greets Laurent as he wakes up. His throat is raw from stomach acid, and his mouth tastes like shit. He tries to get up, find some water, but two sharp, painful tugs from his inner forearm remind him of the clear IV lines running from two metal stands. He's alone. Laurent groans, because it's worse enough that he feels like this and his brother isn't even there.

Like the answer to a prayer, his brother walks in, clutching a cup of coffee. He immediately starts and almost drops the cup. "Laurent! You're awake!"

"Yeah," Laurent says, eyeing the cup of coffee. "Are you going to finish that?"

His brother clutches it even tighter. "Sorry. The nurse said only clear fluids."

Laurent groans again, letting his head fall back to the pillow. "Okay. Can you at least get me a cup of water? And a mint?"

Larry looks like he wants to argue, but he gets it anyways. Laurent tries to sit up to drink, and smiles at the way his brother rushes to help. "So what is wrong with me anyway?" he asks, finishing his water. "Did you find out?"

There's silence, and he looks over to find his brother nearly pale. "Hey, what's up? Is it something bad?" Laurent asks, a little panic beginning to rise in his chest. "Oh my God. Oh my God, Larry, tell me, I can handle it."

Larry stands up, but Laurent grabs onto him, worry making him weak. "Larry, tell me," he pleads.

"I want you to see for yourself," his brother says, voice a bit shaky. Laurent finally notices the brown envelope sitting on his side table. He grabs it, IV lines pulling at his wrist, but he doesn't care. He tears it open, envisioning worst case scenarios (fuck, he might not be able to dance again) and steeling himself.

Red block letters catch his eye right at the bottom of the page. He reads them through and his stomach drops to the bottom of his feet. It can't be. It simply cannot be.

"Laurent? Don't freak out, please? The doctor said not to show you, but..."

His senses dull, and his brain struggles to catch up with the rest of Larry's words. It's hard, like running through water. He can hear someone saying, "oh my god oh my god oh my god," over and over again, and doesn't realize it's his mouth moving. He can hear Larry calling for the nurse, concern and panic flitting across his features. He senses the nurse come in, prepare a syringe. He feels the sharp jab of it in his arm and gratefully passes out.