Troubled Thoughts and the Self-Esteem to Match

Gabe

"This thing is killing my hand." He sighed piteously, tired eyes trained on the needle that was embedded in the back of his hand. I nodded sympathetically, thinking to grasp his fingers encouragingly, but decided against it for the fear that it might hurt him even more. The lights in the bland room were off, but there was enough light from the streetlights outside that I could see his face, strikingly close to mine. We'd been stuck in this hospital room since we came here this morning, and I was glad that the Saline drip had boosted him back to at least coherence, but it didn't rid him of the stupid flu that was plaguing him.
"I'm sorry, Guillermo." I murmured in return, glancing down at said hand as well, which was resting on my chest, moving with the rise and fall of my breathing.

He looked absolutely miserable-he had all day- and I wanted nothing more than to take the sickness in his place, but I couldn't, so I chose to stay as close as possible. He'd made me crawl into the small bed beside him hours ago, because even the sheets he barricaded himself under weren't warming him, the freezing saline being filtered into his body constantly so that he couldn't have even one moment of warmth. He'd curled close to me as soon as I'd kicked my shoes off and laid down adjacent to him, stealing body heat from me, though I didn't mind. It seemed that it comforted not only him but me as well; the close proximity between us calmed him because he needed to feel someone there for him while in such bad health, and for me...
Being so close, feeling him breathing regularly kept me in check that he was fine; sick, but only temporarily. He was okay, so I could be a bit calmer.
A strand of hair curled down onto his forehead. I'd left the room earlier, though I was strictly told not to, and found the closest female nurse I could, hounding her for a hairband. I received one and with it, I helped pull his long hair from his face to keep it out of the way. I reached out and took the brunette lock between my fingers, slicking it back from his skin only for it to flop back in the exact same spot.

He opened his mouth to say something, but another barrage of coughs curdled up from his lungs, seizing him violently. He jerked his right hand over his mouth to shield me from having millions of germs forced into my face, but winced when the movement jabbed the needle deeper into his skin. He buried his face in the pillow instead, until the fit was over. His breath had a gravelly wheeze twinged into it after this. "Why can't I just be put into a medically induced coma for about a week so I'm unconscious through-out this whole thing?" He half implored, half joked, before letting his currently tensed muscles relax again, hand returning to my chest in hopes of getting comfortable. "Because," I began to answer, regardless of if he'd been saying his last question rhetorically or not.
"Haven't you heard the phrase 'In order to appreciate good health, you must experience illness first.'?"
He nodded meagerly before letting out a tiny, frustrated groan. "I should have just kept something to drink close by, then maybe I wouldn't be here right now." He mused aloud, though it seemed to be to himself instead of to me. "You got that right."
I responded anyways, catching an expression on his features that stated 'I don't need your two cents about it.'
I shrugged and let my head plop into the pillow as well, our eyes lined up perfectly. For several, several long moments we said nothing, just watching each other and waiting for who would speak first.

I broke first, unable to keep myself quiet. "I can only imagine how much hell you're gonna get from everyone else when we get back." I snorted, before hitching my voice up in as close to a feminine squeak as I could, mocking Travis. "Billvy, you know better than to exert yourself like that. Why don't you start trying to take better care of yourself?" This pulled a strained wisp of a chuckle from him, though it lasted for only the shortest amount of time before that exhausted expression moped back into place.
"Of course. Maybe I can actually fall asleep there without someone coming in and waking me up every hour to check my blood pressure."
I offered a quick pat on his upper arm, beginning to note that we could go home tomorrow, but he sat up abruptly, face growing near frantic. His left hand reached down toward the floor, alerting me what was about to happen. I sat up much like he did, about the time that he lifted the small bedside trashcan to set between his knees, leaning over it impatiently. My arm curled around him at the exact moment that his body convulsed, and the first bit of vomit was projected into the trashcan. I'd gotten used to it within the hours that we'd been here; he'd already puked so much, I was afraid he'd actually begin throwing up his insides next.
Another deep heave, followed by that terrible noise of liquids meeting the trash-bag, then a mixture between a gag and a cough.
This repeated several times before he finally leaned up, bringing his face away from the trashcan. I reached to my side and grabbed the box of tissues, snatching several up in a wad before using my other hand to turn William's face toward me, wiping away the small threads of regurgitation away from his trembling lips. I tossed the trash in with the puke before he replaced the trash-bin back on the floor, exhaling and grabbing his half empty bottle of water and guzzling down several long gulps.

He was the type that was embarrassed to have other people see him doing things such as puking, though I wasn't sure why. Was it because he felt that such things were private? Maybe it was because he was so vulnerable during such a time, but if that were the case, he'd be embarrassed about everything, because he always seemed vulnerable.
I crinkled my nose up at the word. Guillermo was always vulnerable. If he wasn't, that damn Chislett guy wouldn't have made a move on him, and they wouldn't be together. My stomach dropped at the thought. Yeah, well, where's your man now, huh? Because he sure as hell isn't here taking care of you, like he should be. My thoughts were interrupted by a weak hand pulling at my shirt sleeve. "Lay down." William whined, already doing so again. I was reluctant to, but I did.
"I feel dead." He croaked while I re-situated myself, easing down on my side and, when we were eye to eye again, he attempted to console me with a smile, though it was so weak and tethered together with such exhaustion that it was barely there.
"Thank you Gabe...I-it means a lot." He whispered, his hand resuming it's position on my chest.
"What else do you expect me to do? Just sit back and laugh while you're sick?" He acted as though he was trying to formulate a comeback to this, but said nothing, leaving an uncertain ellipsis in the air.
"I really wish you would have used your brain though. Then we probably wouldn't be here." I revealed monotonously, reaching into my pants pocket and pulling Mr.Way's cellphone out to check the time. He'd left it with me earlier, so that I could call his house phone if anything happened, even if it was against the facility's rules. I was tempted to call him just to pester him, possibly wake him up if he was asleep at the time, but restrained myself from doing so.
He was putting a lot of trust in me that I could handle the responsibility of being alone somewhere out of the facility, and something as small as making stupid and unnecessary phone calls could take every bit of that trust away, and I might never be able to have such privileges again.

I took one last look at the screen, the background being a lovely snapshot of his wife, before shoving it back into my pocket. A nurse should be checking in at any minute, so I guessed we would just sit here playing the waiting game. I was caught off guard when a timid finger grazed over my jawline, slowly running over the stubbles that were spackling my jaw as of lately. They were beginning to get pretty bad, so I made a mental note to shave when we got back home tomorrow, before turning my attention to him.
His gaze was fixed on his finger, and when he felt my attention turned to him, he opened his mouth to justify what I was thinking. "You're getting p-pretty rugged. Are you trying to grow it out like a caveman or something?" I nodded with a devious grin, the action causing his finger to jump down to my neck, just above my pulse. "I would, but I look too good right now. We can't all look as good as Danny and Bob with facial hair, ya know?"
He shook his head yes as well, before letting his hand creep back to my chest where it settled for maybe the fourth time within the hour. "I wonder-" The door opened suddenly, fluorescent light from the hallway bursting into the darkness so suddenly, we both flinched away. The silhouette of a small woman appeared in the doorway, carrying the usual. It was the same one that had been coming to check in on Bill for the past four hours, one of the only nurses we'd come in contact with here that seemed genuinely concerned about her patients.
"Shouldn't you two be sleeping?" She almost scolded us as she moved to the bedside, grasping Williams hand and placing a little monitor on his finger, that picked up his heart-rate. "Still normal." She spoke, in her finely articulate voice, before helping William move his gown sleeve up to his shoulder and strapping the pad of the blood pressure contraption around his upper arm and clamping onto the small bulb. She pumped it several times, the pad tightening around William's arm until I was sure there was no blood getting through the veins. She checked the stats on it, jotted it down on her clipboard, and removed the pad before pointing a slender finger at me. "You need to make sure he isn't trying to talk, because he needs all the rest he can get, do you understand?"
I held my hands in front of my chest, palms out to insinuate that I was innocent of anything she was trying to accuse me of. "Seriously, Sweetheart," She changed her tone to a more nurturing one while patting Bill's shoulder, getting a weak smile from him. "You need to try and sleep as much as possible if you want to get better." He nodded his head obediently, the bundle of his hair that was pulled into the ponytail bobbing as he did.

"I'll be back at 2:40 to take your stats again." She warned him, while gathering her stuff she'd just came into the room with. "I think it's pretty dumb myself. I think they should just hook you up to one of the machines that keeps track of it instead of having us come in here and disturb your sleep every hour." I couldn't agree with her more when it came to this; it was preposterous that they expected people to get adequate rest when they were constantly barging in and waking them up. She turned and slunk back to the large door, turning her emerald eyes back to us once more to reiterate "Sleep, you two.", before she pulled the door shut behind herself, darkness dominating the room again. "It's only one-something in the morning." He whimpered pitifully, letting his okay hand clap over his eyes dramatically. "Morning is never going to get here, I swear!" This was another statement that I agreed with.

I made him rest for the remainder of the night after that, and he was actually able to fall asleep between the nurse checking him, and the puke that kept vaulting from his throat. I couldn't sleep no matter how exhausted I was though. My mind was too wired with irrational fears that if I allowed myself to dose off, something terrible would happen to him in the absence of my consciousness. Instead, I laid as still as possible to ensure that I didn't wake him up when he was asleep, keeping an intent watch on him, and helping him to the bathroom the two times that he stirred complaining that he had to pee.
Each time the nurse, Emily as she'd introduced herself, came to check on him, so pleaded for me to sleep too, saying that "the more rest I had, the less chance I had of catching this flu as well". I didn't bother to tell her I had an exceptional immune system, and even went as far as to tell her I would try, though it was obvious I wouldn't.
It was 7:45 when she came back for the last time for these stupid vital check-ups, and it was no sooner than she'd jotted down his blood pressure on her clipboard that Mr.Way came shuffling into the room, looking more disheveled than usual.
"Woah, Mr.Way, you're looking kinda rough." I snorted upon seeing him; he hadn't yet buttoned his vest, so I could see the full length of his black tie.
"Yeah, I wanted to hurry up and get here before you decided to blow up the place." He retorted with a smirk, pausing to exchange a few words with the nurse. She then turned her back to us and left the room, in pursuit of something I wasn't sure of.

When she as gone, Mr.Way returned his attention to us, walking over and squatting down by William, who was still only half awake from being awoke by the nurse again. "How're you feeling?" He questioned him when he was kneeled down to face level with him, his soothing Jersey accent perking our little patient up the slightest bit. His honey brown eyes opened a bit wider and an apologetic tug of his lips sunk into place before he pushed himself up on his elbow, swiping at his hair which I'd come to notice was always the first thing he did when he woke up, before remembering it was all pulled back from his face. "Well, I feel extremely st-tupid for getting us into this mess." He meekly responded, wincing as he sat up, the muscles in his stomach extremely sore from all of the puking he'd been doing.
"It happens." Mr.Way offered kindly with one of his stunningly therapeutic grins, before returning to his feet and grumbling something about getting too old to be kneeling down like that. "The nurse said that she would be back in a minute to remove the IV, and we could leave afterward, so at least we have that to look forward to, right?"
I remembered his phone then, pulling it from my pocket and tossing it to him. He took a moment to examine it as if I always broke things, but of course it was fine. He deposited it into his own pocket and raised an eyebrow in my direction. "You don't look so hot yourself, Gabe. Do you feel okay?" He continued to eye me after I nodded, which irritated me the slightest bit. "I'm fine, Mr.Way. I just didn't sleep if that can tell you anything." And it did. He knew how much I enjoyed my sleep, so for me to miss a night of it took quite a toll on me. "Well, the sooner we get back to the block, the sooner you can get some sleep." He checked the watch around his wrist impatiently and headed toward the door, poking his head out of it for a second. He returned to the room as the nurse came back into the room, rushing over to William. It was clear that she wanted to hurry up and get us out of here, because she knew that's what we wanted.
She pulled the tape off of the syringe and removed the needle with flawless precision before hurriedly pressing a cotton ball over the tiny needle prick. From there, she pulled a roll of green medical tape from the pocket of her scrubs and wrapped it around Bill's hand twice before tearing it off and adhering it together so that it would stay.
"Looks like you're free to go." She beamed cheerfully, but let a serious tone dominate her young face afterward. "Make sure you stay hydrated this time so you don't end up right back in here. We'll keep you longer next time if you have to come back."
He nodded gratefully, and she left us before he began tearing at the gown to get it off as soon as physically possible. I hopped from the bed and found the shirt he'd came in wearing yesterday, pulling it over his head. He slipped his arms into the long sleeves and stood, unsteadily, and motioned for his shoes. Mr.Way was the first to see them, tossed beside the door. He retrieved them and Bill pulled them on without hesitation. He found and pulled on his jacket, and with that, Mr.Way waved his arm in the direction of the door. Let's get the hell out of here. The action said.
I crammed my feet into my own shoes before jogging to catch up with them. William's excuse of a walk was almost humorous; his skinny legs were wobbly and unsure of if they would be able to support his wait with each step. I snickered to myself before slipping my arm around his waist and steadying him.

"Querido, you're gonna fall and hit your head again." I whispered, he swatting at my stomach in such a way that told me to hush. "Good thing Gabey's here to help though, yeah?" He simply rolled his eyes upon hearing me say this, but I could tell he was happy, considering how shitty he felt.