Are You Comfortable With This?

I had gone through two months of watching Brendon be completely unstable and out of control. One day in particular springs to mind.
It was the middle of the night, and I was just about to drop off to sleep, when I heard Brendon throwing up next to me, Ryan was at home, and only really came to visit for a few hours every day.
I jumped up straight away to go and tend him, and hold the pot for him, this had become routine now. I don’t even flinch away from the sound or smell of him vomiting. The sight though, that always gets me. Not just because it’s disgusting, but because it hurts to see him in so much pain, being so unstable.
I shushed him while stroking his hair, wanting to be there for him to comfort him.
I watched as it got worse and worse, the vomiting becoming more and more vigorous. His eyes and nose began to water, while beads of sweat rolled from his forehead, and his pupils were large, completely dilated. The sight of him in pain, it made my eyes fill with tears, I hated to see him like this, completely weak and helpless.
He finished emptying his stomach, and his head rolled back, his eyes closed from exhaustion. I place the bowl in the sink and went back over to sit with him.
“Are you okay?” I mumbled, stroking his hair. He shook his head.
“Not really.” He answered, looking me in the eye. He smiled weakly at me, though it didn’t reach his eyes, I smiled half-heartedly back, before leaning forward to peck him on the cheek. “I’m scared” He said, his voice wavering slightly. I sighed.
“I know” I whispered. “But I promise you, every step of the way, I’m gonna be here for you. No matter what happens, I’ll be right here with you through it all. I promise” I said, wanting to give him all the support humanly possible from one person. He looked at me and studied my face, searching. For what? Who knows? But he seemed to be happy with what he saw, and offered me a happy smile. I gladly received it and grinned back at him, just happy that we were together again. We sat there for a while. My face dropped suddenly when a thought came to mind. “What’s it like?” I whispered, simply out of curiosity. “I mean, craving the drugs 24/7, is it painful?” I asked. He sighed, thinking about what to say, and how to say it.
“It’s the single most painful and exhausting thing I have ever had to go through, both physically, and mentally. The need for heroin is constantly eating away at my brain, and there is no way to get rid of it. The medication… it helps, but it is no where near as… refreshing as I know the actual drug would be, and you have no idea how much I want, how much I need that drug.” He said, his fists in tight balls at his sides, and his jaw clenched hard, while his eyes were wide open. He looked at me again, this time more sad. “And Effy, I’m not suicidal, but I would rather be dead than be in this state. It’s excruciating” He said, tears filling his eyes. He looked genuinely unhappy, and so bad that it made me want to run out and get him some heroin, simply to make him happy again. I refrained though, obviously, and pulled him close in a hug.
I snapped back to reality when I heard someone’s voice next to me.
“Effy?” He said, his eyebrows furrowed in concern, “Are you okay?” He asked, squeezing my hand. I nodded slightly, and pulled my lips up ever-so-slightly, my feeble attempt in trying to convince Ryan that this was infact true. He sighed and simply nodded back, not bothering to argue. I don’t find this surprising, though, he’s stopped bothering altogether lately. He’s lucky if he gets two words out of me in a conversation, but I can’t help it. I’m forcing all my energy into Brendon, looking after him, worrying about him, and waiting around for all those long hours, that I simply don’t have the energy, and barely the time for anything else.
Right now, it’s early in the morning, around six or seven, and Ryan and I are sitting in the canteen, opposite one another while waiting for Brendon to wake up. Ryan had ordered a cooked breakfast and was now staring down at his empty plate, while I stared down at my now cold full cup of coffee, losing my mind with worry, and guilt.
I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help blaming this entire situation on myself. I feel like it’s my fault for the condition Brendon is in right now, for the pain he’s going through, both mentally and physically, and that guilt is making this whole ordeal much, much worse. The thought that if I tried harder to stay in touch with Brendon all those months ago then maybe, just maybe, we wouldn’t be in this situation, was constantly eating away at the back of my mind, threatening to push me off the edge.
It was obvious that Ryan was trying his hardest to stop me worrying about Brendon, and to at least keep me sane, by telling me how “everything is going to be okay” and that “he’ll get better, trust me”. But for some reason, I didn’t believe him. I guess I just didn’t want to get my hopes up. I walked around for a week or two, completely lifeless; zombie like, almost.
I felt something graze my elbow, and without flinching, I looked down, seeing that it was Ryan’s hand, I looked back up to meet his gaze, my emotionless, ghostly expression un-changed.
“I’m worried about you, you know” He stated, taking my hand in his. I didn’t reply, instead I just cleared my throat, and pulled my hand back, before staring down at it sitting comfortably in my lap. “Please, Effy. Say something!” He said, slightly louder now, and slumped right back into his chair; I just sighed. “Please, you’re killing me here.” He whispered, his tone of voice was bluntly desperate now, simply pleading for me to talk to him. I looked up to meet his gaze, my vision clouded over from the tears that I didn’t realise were there. I looked into his eyes, and felt a pang of guilt flow through my already guilty conscious, when I saw the pure pain in his eyes, and cleared my throat.
“I’m fine, Ryan. Stop worrying about me. It’s easier for me this way, really.” I said, monotonically, my voice dry and hoarse from lack of sleep, and probably lack of speech, too. Ryan searched my face for what seemed like an eternity, studying each and every feature there, but eventually, gave up; obviously not finding what he was looking for. I mean, what is there to find on my face? It’s emotionless. Eventually, he sighed and looked in my eyes again, smiling slightly, to show that he would let it go.
“Okay Effy. But just remember, if you need to talk, I’m right here, waiting” He said with raised eyebrows, making sure I got the point. I simply nodded, knowing that, at this point, that information was useless to me.
“How long have we been here?” I asked, looking down at my watch, but also looking to change the subject.
“Uhm, I don’t know, like an hour or two?” He said, obviously not sure himself. I sighed before getting up and pushing the chair under the table. “Where’re you going?” Ryan asked, but also getting up himself.
“The bathroom.” I answered simply, before turning on my heel in search of the toilet. I searched for around five minutes before I finally found the bathroom near the entrance of the hospital. I entered and looked at myself in the mirror, unfazed by my appearance. I’ve been like this for around two months now, remember.
My face was extremely pale and bland, while my cheeks were sunken, and huge bags hung low, and dark from my eyes, making me look like I haven’t slept in weeks, which is almost true. My eyes were incredibly bloodshot, almost completely red, while my hair desperately needed a brush to be pulled through it, and craved shampoo and water.
To sum up, I looked a mess, all because of the long waiting game I was currently apart of. When I woke early in the morning, I waited for Brendon to wake up, I then waited for hunger to overcome me and go to the canteen, when I got back from the canteen I then waited for Brendon to fall asleep. I then waited for the night to creep up on me, until I fell asleep and the whole cycle started again. Then, if you look at the bigger picture, there’s the one thing we’re here for – we’re all waiting for Brendon to recover, which is the worst waiting game of them all.
I sighed at the ugly person staring back at me, before heading back to Brendon’s ward.
When I entered, he was sitting up in his bed, happily eating away at his breakfast while images from a cheesy drama flashed and danced across the screen. I smiled at him, and suddenly realized that he was actually a lot better than when he first came in here. The vomiting became a lot less frequent, and he was beginning to look a lot healthier. On the outside, anyway. In fact, looking at him now, he looked more healthy than me, if only marginally; his cheeks were beginning to gain some colour, making him look more alive, while the bags under his eyes had lessened, and his unhappiness had almost completely faded. I was finally beginning to see my Brendon again.
“Good morning” I said, sitting down in the seat beside his bed. He looked up at me and smiled, his eyes lighting up with it, unable to answer as his mouth was currently stuffed with food. I glanced at the clock; and it read 8:19AM. “How are you feeling?” I asked Brendon, his eyes never leaving my face. He swallowed before answering.
“Better.” He answered, and I felt my heart do somersaults as the words left his mouth, he was doing alright. He’s actually getting better. I felt my face light up while my heart was overwhelmed with joy, I felt as though it might explode out of my chest with happiness right there, as a huge grin spread across my face.
“That’s great” I whispered, my vision suddenly clouded over with, you guessed it, tears.

[title credit goes to careful-paramore]