Frostbite

"Wait, scroll back up."

"It's just another picture of a penis."

"No, scroll back up."

Sighing, I strolled back up to reveal, as expected, a picture of a oversize cartoon dick. "Horny much? If you want to get laid just go buy a dildo or something, I'm sure Nico has plenty to spare."

"Ew, pervert! Look who rebloged the penis. My god, you're such a bitch, why do I even hang out with you?"

"I don't know, all you do is eat my food and complain about how I get more dick than you."

Glaring at me, she got off the bed and headed to the stereo, changing the song for the eighth time. "I'm sorry for bothering your existence. Not all of us can have a great boyfriend like you."

"Gin can."

"I can." Riley piped up, baking back down when Lee shot him daggers.

"What about Nathan?" I asked, throwing her a hypothetical bone. You know, considering she's acting like a bitch and all. "He's life-less and lonely."

"Oh, yeah, comparing me to that retarded jackass really lifts my spirits. That's a lot Benjamin." Luckily, her phone started vibrating before she could go any farther.

Bored with my dashboard, I looked to Riley who was flipping through the pages of one of Clary's thousands of mangas. "Any crappy love plots in that one?"

"Kind.... of." His eyebrow furrowed, as if he was reading War And Peace instead of whatever Japanese produced picture book was in his hands. "It's a bit confusing. This girl like a boy but she thinks he thinks she's a boy. But the boy knows that girl is a girl but knows that the girl thinks that he thinks she's a boy. And on-"

"I stopped caring at 'a bit confusing.' "

"Yeah." He sighed, closing the book and throwing it to the side."I was beginning to, uh.... inquire how I held your attention for such an expended period of time."

"Don't flatter yourself." I told him as I changed the song. The second The Thespian started fighting its way out of the speaker, Lee turned for the door.

"I can't hear over this crap!" She complained.

"Wait, don't leave me alone with him." I pleaded. "If I change it back will you stay?" She didn't, and I was left in the room with Gin who was staring at the screen as he scrolled.

He looked up at me, his normal confused expression stuck on his face. "Why are there so many penises on your dashboard?"

"Mathew must be online. Dick is his hob-"

Riley let out a short cry as a phone connected with his gut, a few lucky inches high of his crotch. Though his penis was sketchy in existence, I'm going to assume he had one.

"Call your mom to pick you up," she instructed him before turning to me, keys tossed into my lap. "Come on, you're driving me to the hospital.

I didn't object and got up to slip my shoes on. It was the the hospital, how could I oppose? Whether I knew why or not didn't matter, I'd just ask on the way over. Situations involving hospitals were unpredictable; broken bones, stitches, chemo, death. Sometimes there wasn't time to ask questions. And the time I did would be the time something bad happens.

"So." Turning to Lee who was hacking away at her nails, a old nervous habit I thought we'd gotten over, I gauged what was the right time to ask her and not have nails spat at me. "Why exactly am I going to the hospital? Not that I object or anything, I'll drive you whenever you want with reason, but it was a bit random."

Finally tearing her shredded nails out of her mouth, she spat then across the windshield and said, "There was a accident during Jennie and Cage's practice. Jennie's mom called me to tell me what happened and what room they were in."

With that, I sped down the road and dodged every car, ignoring the horns with nothing more than a middle finger. The fact that Lee didn't complain, aside from the initial gasp, told me that my amount of worry was acceptable.

As we entered the lobby, Lee walked up to woman of average height, long hair, and eyes like Jennies only wet and slightly red. She looked a little broken to be honest, but I didn't have time to dwell on other's sadness.

"Micajah?" I asked the Mrs.Wilson.

She ignored me and began to talk with Lee, slowly and painfully creeping their way towards the elevator while making quiet conversation.

What the fuck is wrong with these people? Lee said there was a accident and no details? Their mindless fucking conversation right now didn't even have any goddamn details on what happened, only offered words of unneeded, time-wasting comfort. Don't they fucking know I have a missing and possible injured fucking boyfriend? What in hell do they think they are doing?

"Excuse me." Picking Lee up and setting her aside, I force a smile down to Mrs. Wilson. "Hi, I'm Benjamin, we've met before. My boyfriend is currently somewhere that I don't know the location and or his state of well being. Would you be so kind as to inform me of where he might be so I can go make sure all fluids are inside of his body?"

A few moments of blank staring later I was darting up the stairs, opting out of torturing myself by waiting for the elevator, and headed to the fifth floor to look for my supposedly unharmed boyfriend.

The nurses gave me weird looks, but I suppose that might be because they were used to seeing me in the bed rather than frantically wondering the halls. Once I spotted the mop of brown hair, I stopped thinking about the existence of anyone else besides him.

Gently but swiftly lifting him out of his seat, I squeezed the living fuck out of him. He didn't object or seem surprised by the gesture, neither did his uncle or father, and simply wrapped his arms around my waist and soaked my shirt. The fact that he was sitting outside of the room was conviction enough that he wasn't injured, so the hug was more out of relief than comfort, though he seemed to take it that way.

"What happened?" I asked no one in particular as I rubbed Micajah's back.

Mr.Issac answered, seaming to for once put aside all disdain that was usually aimed at me. "Jennie injured her ankle."

Those words set in fast. A injured Jennie meant Micajah would be skating alone. And, as far as I know, he couldn't do that for the goals he had in mind. If Jennie was injured then what he'd been working towards would be shot dead, deader than dead. All of it would have been done in vein; His training, his sister's designing, his uncles coaching, his family's move. He wouldn't be able to reach his dream the one he'd spent multiple hours telling me about over and over again, the one he spoke about with such passion he put poets to shame. It was no wonder I was currently drowning in his tears.

I didn't realized I'd squeezed Micajah any tighter until he was trying to pull away, arms week from sobbing. Sniffling, he whipped his eyes again and again and shakily announced, "I want to go back in and see Jennie."

"No." Mr. Issac's voice left no room for negotiation, instead he turned towards me and said, "Take him home. He's had a long day, we'll go in a little while."

With not objection in the state of even a forming thought, I wrapped an arm around Micajah and led him to the elevator. He put up little fight before giving up and going slack against my side, reverting back to sobs as opposed to actual words.

Lifting him into the car, I was reluctant to let go of him, to leave him alone in misery for even a minute. Of course, his misery caused me misery too, and it was better to be miserable together than alone. That must caused even more misery, and that's just too much company for my liking.

The ride back was spent with my hand wrapped around Micajah's, his nail occasionally digging into the back if it. Nothing was said, but the almost silence was one that wasn't meant to be filled.

He announced that he was going to take a shower somewhere during the ride and headed straight there when we arrived at his house. Not wanting to leave him alone, I decided to take the free time to bake cookies in a attempt to raise his spirits. When he slugged down the stairs -hair dripping, pajamas rumpled, and eyes wet and red- he trudged towards me and leaned all his weight onto my side.

"Cookie?" I offered, opting out of the nonsensical question on if he was okay. Why would he be?

Halfheartedly, he took the cookie and slipped it between his lazy lips, chewing as if his jaw had been on overdrive for the past week. With no more apatite for sweets, he set the cookie back on the plait and let out a heartbreaking sigh.

He looked up at me with eyes that shot holes right through my chest. "I want to see Jennie."

For a moment I was struck into silence. Why did he want to see her? Wouldn't it just make him cry again? Wouldn't seeing her just remind him of how his dream as shot in the head? Or maybe he was in the denial stage, maybe he just wanted to make sure it really happened and he wasn't just standing here looking tortured for nothing.

Hugging him, I ran my fingers through his hair in a attempt at soothing. "You can see her tomorrow. How about we watch a movie?"

"I want to see Jennie."

"Micajah, tomorrow." Letting go, I nudged him towards the door but he seemed to have more fight in him than earlier. "Your dad and uncle should be back soon. Let's just go upstairs and relax for a bit."

"I want to see Jennie." Though he said it again, he didn't fight too much as I scooped him up and brought him up the stairs to his room. I turned the TV on to some mindless show he seemed to love while he curled up against me like a cat, staring blankly at the screen. Eventually, he fell asleep and didn't wake even when I left.