love never dies (a ryden fan fic)

Currents Convulse

Brendon's P.O.V

    The ride to the hospital went by in a blur. I didn't notice that the entire way there, my heart had been picking up speed and I had stopped breathing. To be quite honest, I didn't even care. 

    I throw the car into park in the first available spot and slam the door, not even locking it. Despite the fact that I should still be on crutches, there is nothing under my arm and I walk as fast as I can into the hospital.

    There is no nurse at the station, so I just walk straight to the elevator. I have been here plenty of times, I am aware enough to be able to get around.

    Around me, the air gets harder to breathe with each new breath I take. I don't even notice when two other people enter the elevator. The image of Ryan in pain without me is slowly killing me as it loops around my head again and again.

    The electric toll of the elevator bell gives me a headache along with the quiet conversation happening to my left. I have never been so relieved to get off an elevator than I am now as I hobble out onto the third floor.

    Ryan's room is the first door on the right and my heart speeds up as I touch the handle. I don't have any idea of what he could look like in there, I don't know how bad it is. 

    After a second taken to regain my cool, I twist the handle and walk in. A sob catches in the back of my throat as I see Ryan laying in bed with monitors beeping around him.

    In a chair to the right of his bed sits the woman who answered the phone who looks like she is nodding off as each second passes. My shoes make hollow sounds throughout the room as I enter and she looks up, fresh tears coating her eyes.

    "What happened?" It's hard to speak over the emotion stuck in my throat and the question comes out quiet, sad.

    "He couldn't breathe, started coughing up blood. He didn't want you to see him like this but I felt like you of all people deserved to know." She swipes at her tears, leaving a black line of mascara under her eyes.

    "Do they know what's wrong with him?" As I ask, I sit in the chair to the right of the woman, the one closest to the bed and I gently grab Ryan's hand.

    His eyebrows stitch and he breathes out heavily before returning back to slumber and relaxing his hold on me. As I adjust to a not so awkward angle I see a bag hanging from the side of his bed filled with orange liquid.

    "What is this?" I ask before she even has a chance to answer my first question. She shrugs her shoulders and wipes another tear away.

    Ryan coughs in his sleep and the bag fills with more of the orange liquid. His eyebrows stitch in pain and a small bit of blood soaks his lips.

    My heart aches, sending pain through my veins all the way to my wrists and I squeeze Ryan's hand, trying to rid my body of that feeling. 

    Ryan's eyes open and he looks paniced between the woman and I. Before he can ask the question I see pursed on his lips, he starts coughing again.

    This time his whole body moves with the power of the cough and I can see the tube protruding from the back of his ribs connected to the bag. The air in my lungs escapes at the sight. Ryan continues to cough with more and more force.

    With urgency, the woman jumps up and hits the nurse's button numerous times. I hold Ryan's hand tighter, letting him know that I am here and that I am not going anywhere. As he coughs, blood speckles the arm he is using to guard anyone else against it.

    We sit like that, my hand tightly in his for what seems like forever before a male nurse rushes in and grabs the chart at the end of his bed.