Until It's Gone

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

 

Mike’s POV

          He wasn’t sure what to expect when he walked into Chester’s room. Would he be gone already? Dead from the wound? Or would he be just barely clinging to life before passing away in a few days? He wouldn’t be able to handle it. So he stepped slowly into Chester’s room and his eyes fell on the man on the bed. He was hooked up to a ton of different machines.

          “He can’t breathe on his own,” the doctor said behind him. Mike felt his heart leap into his throat. He was dying.

          “The bullet didn’t hit his heart which is good. On the other hand, it did hit one of his lungs which we were able to fix. He’ll be using the tube for air until he wakes up and then we’ll give him something easier for him. The fall he took after that broke some ribs and cracked his skull.”

          “He has a concussion?”

          “Yes. Quite severe. It may cause seizures. He’s unconscious due to the loss of blood and the surgery. He didn’t do well in surgery,” the doctor said. Mike looked back at him.

          “What?”

          “We almost lost him twice during the removal of the bullet. He’s quite weak. Has he been eating properly?”

          “Yea. I mean, he lives with us. The band would make sure he took care of himself.”

          “Does he self-harm?”

          “Why? He did as a teenager but not anymore.”

          “Well there are some scars on his wrists that look fresher. Could be from last night,” the doctor said. Mike frowned.

          “He said he stopped,” Mike said softly walking up to Chester and slowly lifting his limp hand off the bed. Sure enough, there were scars that Mike knew hadn’t been there before on his wrist. Chester had started again.

          “No….No Chazzy. No you promised you’d stop,” Mike whispered as he rubbed his thumb over the scars on Chester’s wrist.

         

          “Mr. Shinoda…I will be going. If you need anything please call for a doctor,” the doctor said and Mike nodded before sitting down next to Chester. He saw the bandages wrapped around the man’s chest. If Chester were to wake up now, he’d be in so much pain, Mike wasn’t sure if he could take it. It would be terrible for him. He reached out and gripped Chester’s hand. It was cold. The image of Chester lying on the stage with blood around him came back to his head. He lowered his head as he sat next to the man he cared so much about. Chester could easily die here.

          “Where do I even start?” Mike whispered softly as he stared at Chester’s body. He remembered being in the same position a while ago. When Chester had fallen into a coma at seventeen. It had been the worst two weeks of his life. He’d sat next to the boy the whole time and begged him to wake up. It was the same here. Chester had to be alright. He watched Chester’s chest rise and fall, realizing it wouldn’t be if the tube wasn’t doing it for him. Mike knew they’d have to take it out by tomorrow because of the dangers of leaving something like that in him for too long. Chester would probably end up with a ventilator. If he didn’t die before that. Mike remembered the look on Chester’s father’s face. It was one of revenge and anger. Chester would forever be looked at as a letdown in so many people’s eyes. As a fag. As a loser. But Mike would never see him like that. Never. Because Chester was perfect. Nothing would change that.