Amor Vicissitudine

Tony and I were both sitting in Jaime's hospital room.

A few hours had past so the nurses were letting people in to see him. Tony and I had been sitting in the same chair since we were allowed in, not moving once even when they camein to change his bandages.

When they removed them from his chest the hole left by the gun could be seen.

It was small, but still much larger a hole than I would have liked to see in my brother. The skin around the hole had begun to yellow and there was dried blood surrounding it.

Nobody deserved to se their only sibling like that.

I wouldn't wish that upon even my worst enemy.

The gauze had stuck around the edges of the wound, making horrid ripping noises as it got pulled from his skin.

As they did this I buried my face into Tony's neck, wanting the terrifying event to be done with.

Tony hadn't moved from the position we were in as they removed Jaime's bandages, having wrapped his arms around me, one on my shoulder, the other on my waist and his chin resting on the back of my head.

It was awkward sitting like this in the small hospital chair but it made me feel so much more secure about everything that was happening.

The feeling of his arms wrapped around me just felt so right. Everything about it. The way I could feel his breath moving my hair and the way I could hear his heart beat, beating almost in time with Jaime's heart monitor.

It made me feel like Jaime was holding me, instead of Tony.

He would hold me just like this when we were younger. If I was having a rough day and my depression would get the better of me he would sit down and hold me.

Not saying anything to me before he did so.

He'd walk into my room, sit on my bed with me, grab me into a tight hug and sit with me, singing softly to me the lullabies his mother had taught him when he was young. He'd sing to me in Spanish and sit with me until I fell asleep in his arms.

Would it kill Tony to do that?

Who am I kidding, Tony can't speak Spanish. I'm not one hundred percent sure he can sing either.

Maybe if Jaime could wake up. And if only they'd take that tube from his throat.

I want him to be okay.

Then I heard it.

A blip in his breathing monitor.

My head snapped up at the sound, in rushed hopes that he'd woken up, and my eyes whipped to his bed. He was still laying there on the stark, white, sheets. Nothing had changed about him. Nothing at all.

He'd hic-coughed. That was all.

He wasn't waking up, his heart wasn't slowing down. He wasn't doing anything.

Nothing.

I let out a pained sigh and Tony's arms tightened around my body,

"He'll be fine." Those three words were repeated so much today by him.

I hoped to god they were true.