Hotel Room #239

~Lost~ [Part Two]

'I hope you find the storm that you've been chasing...' — 21 Summer, Brothers Osborne

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Mark:

I book a plane ticket the minute I hang up on the phone. There is an open seat in a plane that left in three hours, and I snag it as fast as I can. I'm anxious the entire plane ride. I got no other information than the name of the hospital Jack is in. Once I land in Ireland, I call a taxi and have him drop me off at Jack's place. I'm sure he won't mind me using the spare key to set my things in his house, before hauling another taxi to take me to the hospital.

I rush into the hospital, so much running through my head. My breathing is heavy and the reality of Jack in the hospital from accident isn't registering in my brain. All I can do is worry and wonder if he'll be okay. I also have a million questions that are tucked away in the back of my head.

'What happened?'

'Was it fatal?'

'Does he need surgery?'

'Is he going to die?'

I approach the lady behind the desk, nearly out of breath from rushing so fast. "I'm here to see Sean McLoughlin," I inform the lady as she types away at her computer. My eyes grow bigger, and I probably resemble someone who looks like they have been holding in their pee for two months. The lady, whose name tag reads Debra, finally slowly and agitatedly looks up at me, pushing a short strand of her back out of her eyes.

"Can I help you?"

Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me?!?

I almost scream out in protest, but I acknowledge that I am in a hospital with lots of ill patients inside and I don't want to disrupt them or have them tell me off, so I count to ten slowly in my head, something that normally calms me down. Right now, it's not working.

"Sean McLoughlin," Is all I can sputter out before I start a rampage and rip off Debra's head like a rubber Barbie doll's. Debra's eyes widen in shock, probably because of the tone I used with her. I'm gritting my teeth and clenching and unclenching my jaw rhythmically so I can try to focus on something else, other than the fact that Jack is all alone in a hospital bed, and maybe close to death. I'm not sure of the last part, but maybe if these damn receptionists did their jobs, I would have a clue.

"Room twenty four...but he's not allowed—" Debra is cut off by me sprinting down the hallway, following the signs carefully that lead me to the part of the building that has rooms marked with twenty. I eventually find my way and soon enough I'm in front of the door that reads 'twenty four'. I stand there like an idiot, my heart beating out of my chest and my eyes probably bloodshot. I knock on the door gently, the soft action in contrast to how I'm feeling inside. I wish I had it more together, but right now, I can't think straight.

"Come in," A hoarse voice calls from inside, and I recognize the Irish accent as Jack's—though, we are in Ireland and almost everyone has the same accent. However, I can identify Jack's voice easily.

I crack open the door, and it squeaks, indicating it's old and might need more oil. My head starts to turn, and I start thinking that Jack should've been brought to a better hospital. The best hospital in the country. That's what he deserves. But, I wasn't there to bring him there. And now, I'd live the rest of my life in guilt for that. What if this hospital can't help him? What did Jack do that was so bad that caused him to end up in a hospital bed, looking pale and weak?

Carefully and slowly, I approached the green haired man, whose eyes were lighting up beyond imagination. Lowering myself onto a nearby wooden chair and pulling it up to his bed, I grasp his hand, but am cautious not to squeeze to hard.

"Markimoo," The Irish boy spoke in barely a whisper, causing my heart to clamp up. I breathe deeply, trying to calm myself down so I don't scare Jack.

"I'm so glad you're okay," I close my eyes so I don't have to stare into his deep blue eyes. I gulp, trying to keep the tears from spilling over my eyelids. My heart felt as if someone was gripping it, trying to squeeze all the blood out. I haven't felt this despair ever since my dad passed.

"Hey, look at me," Fingertips gently hold my chin so that I tilt my head up to look directly into his captivating eyes. "I'm okay."

"What happened?" I ask, trying to distract myself as I attempt not to look straight into Jack's eyes, which make me feel even more guilty.

"I was driving, and this bozo just randomly decided to smash into the side of my car."

"Who is it? Where is he? I'll kill him," I grip the edge of the hospital bed, making sure it was nowhere near Jack so I wouldn't harm him, my knuckles turning white.

"Calm down, Mark. I'm fine," Jack reaches his arm out to brush his hand through my fading red hair. (i know it's brown now lol i just liked his red hair).

"Are you sure?" I ask, not too sure of it. Jack nods his head, and then motions for me to move closer. I hesitantly climb into his hospital bed, holding him gingerly as he rests his head on my chest.

And then I realize: I could have lost him.

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hey lol long time no see? so we're going to take a vote. would you rather have frequent short chapters or long chapters that take longer to write?

ye ye yeeee

and what's your longest ye boi?

xoxo, alli