Thin Skinned [Boy x Boy]

Chapter 11

Cuts P.O.V

My time has run out and I've only gotten sicker. Horn says he's taking me to the hospital. I beg him not to and end up giving myself a panic attack before we even leave the apartment.

My vision starts fading and I can barely see. Everything is blurring together. There's a ringing in my ears and all sounds seem like they're from a distant. My chest feels tight and I can hardly breathe.

The only thing I am able to focus on, although hardly, is Horn. He's attempting to calm me. I know he feels horrible about mentioning the hospital because this is what happens.

"Cuts, Baby, it's alright. We're still at the apartment. You're safe," he reassures me in a soft voice.

His voice sounds distant to me and I can hardly make out what he's saying. I'm on the verge of blacking out. Although I would hate for him to do this, it would be smart on his behalf to take me to the hospital while I'm unconscious. I can't put up a fight then.

"I won't let you out of my sight, okay? I promise nothing bad will happen to you. Please, just try to calm down," he says softly with a soothing tone.

I try to calm myself but that is almost impossible. My vision only gets worse and I can no longer hear what Horn is saying. I'm officially unconscious.

This is for the best. At least this way I can't put up much of a fight. I won't have any more panic attacks while I'm out. Hopefully, Horn can get me there before I wake up.

I'm somewhere between awake and unconscious during the car ride to the hospital. My head is pounding and I feel like I'm going to vomit. My vision is still dark and groggy and I can't see much of anything.

I don't know how much time has passed. I'm still in a state between conscious and unconscious. It's hard to make out any details.

I slowly open my eyes to blindingly bright light. It forces me to close them again. My entire body feels weak and groggy.

"Hey," Horn's soothing voice wakes me up.

I let out a soft groan and rub my temples. "What happened? I feel like I've been hit by a God damn truck."

"That's the sedatives. You couldn't calm down. They probably haven't worn off yet," he explains while brushing a lock of hair from my face.

I let out a deep sigh and rub my face. Some small part of me still wants to panic because I know I'm in the hospital. Luckily, the drugs I'm on keep me calm.

"So, have they told you what's wrong with me?" I ask Horn softly.

I scratch at the wristband the doctors put on me. It's uncomfortably tight and scratches my skin. I would like to take it off, but I can't rip it.

"Not yet. You woke up about an hour ago and started panicking. They had to sedate you again. Doctors wanted you to be settled before they told either of us anything," he tells me.

I feel my heart drop to my stomach for a moment. The worst case scenarios begin to flood my mind. I could be deathly ill. I could have cancer. There are so many bad things that the doctors would wait to tell both of us.

Horn must see my distress because he takes my hand and tells me to calm down. He uses his thumb to stroke over the tops of my knuckles.

"You're fine, Cuts. Don't go freaking yourself out, okay?"

"Okay," I say softly while trying to convince myself that I am actually okay.

The door opens and I suddenly feel my entire body tense up. Doctors, in general, freak me out. I squeeze Horn's hand rather tightly out of fear.

I don't want to be anywhere near another doctor for as long as I live. I've had too many traumatizing experiences. I have panic attacks for a reason.

"Hello, Vincent," she says, using my real name, which I find rather irritating.

I've embraced my nickname and I actually prefer it over my real name. I don't like when people use my real name. It reminds me of when I was younger and those are years I would prefer to forget.

I glance at the woman's name tag to see her name. Dr. Elizabeth Ginnings. She has a very welcoming and friendly vibe, but I still don't allow myself to trust her.

"So, what's wrong with me?" I ask quickly before she can attempt to start any kind of conversation.

She clears her throat and looks over her clipboard. Just by the look in her eyes, I know that something is wrong with me.

I've always had health issues. Whether it was my skin or my immune system, something has always been wrong with me. Now I am simply preparing for the worst.

I don't want her to say that I am deathly ill, but I am preparing myself for such news anyway. Doctors have never given me good news. They've only ever given me news that made me need more treatment. Even then, I would only ever get worse.

I used to think that doctors would lie to me to keep me in longer. I was their own personal experiment. They never wanted to let me go. I was too valuable to them.

I'm not sure I would be able to come back to the hospital if I had some illness that required treatment. I give myself panic attacks just from knowing that I'll have to go. I would only make my health worse. 

The thought of the hospital terrifies me. Not only that, but I finally have a reason to want to live. I wouldn't want to lose Horn. It would be crushing to both of us.

I wait for her to deliver some awful news, but she doesn't. This news isn't entirely awful.

"You're pregnant," she says.