Don't Worry, I'll Keep You Warm

On a day where Vic didn’t have to go in for work was the day that he decided to do a little more snooping at the school. The library never had more than a handful of kids, and it was massive for a high school. There were rows and shelves of books that students would hide between when they needed a quick getaway from teachers or a secluded place to make out.

That’s not where Vic was headed, though. He went straight to the very back, where he knew they kept the newspapers archived for student use. He had heard the town library went back even further for history purposes, but he didn’t have a library card there yet and this would be fine anyways.

The newspapers were sorted in to years and went back to around 2002, when they started to collect them. Why in the world they thought it was a good idea other than to take up space, Vic had no idea. But for once he was thankful for the stupid decision the school board had made as he began sifting through the papers from two years ago. He could skip the ones from the summer months and probably September, since he knew Kellin had been hit during the school year. And hadn’t the guidance councilor mentioned something about the drivers being distracted by a chipmunk?

Shrugging, Vic started with the Spring months. March, April, and finally, and not so shockingly, May. Right on the front cover was a picture of a car and a few Police officers and fire fighters. The car looked like it had hardly been damaged, but the headline read ‘TEENAGER CRITICALLY INJURED IN CAR ACCIDENT NEAR HIGH SCHOOL’.

Plopping down to sit on the ground, Vic bit his thumb as he started to read the story on the front.

Thursday, May 6th - Outside Southfield High School while on his way home, a freshmen student was hit by a car full of seniors on their way home. The boy was critically injured and taken to the nearby hospital where he was treated for head trauma and other injuries.

The students in the car at the time were taken in by Southfield police for questioning, but were released a few hours later and the situation was deemed an accident. Their parents and the students declined to comment on the situation.

Witnesses say the car, a 1994 Ford Mustang, must have hit a pothole or the curb the wrong way at the wrong time. School officials are looking in to the condition of the roads surrounding the school and saying that no disciplinary actions are being taken against the students.

The family of the injured boy is requesting privacy at this point in time.

It was such a small story for something that was on the front page. Granted there was more on the back, but Vic figured it would be about the smaller details of the story, such as police quotes and other irrelevant shit that didn’t matter. Sighing, he folded the paper back up and got to his feet. Rather than return it to its rightful place however, he tucked it under his arm and ducked between the shelves, walking out of the library generally unnoticed.

—-

His steps weren’t very quick against the pavement. It’s not like he was very excited about his destination. His arms were crossed and his head was down. It wasn’t a sunny day, so it was almost chilly out, even though it was getting to be Summer pretty soon. One of the things Vic had learned about this state was that warm days were rare and the winters were harsh.

He missed the sunny state of California, where he was from. It almost never snowed in San Diego and when it did, it wasn’t like the way it blanketed the ground in Southfield. His parents weren’t exactly excited about the move either; and his brother Mike had even tried to run away when they found out. But in the end it happened. As much as they didn’t want it to, it came.

Now that he was here, with a job and friends and the story he was still investigating, he felt anchored. Like he had a purpose - which he hardly felt in California; it was simply a place he had always existed, and always wished to exist. Until they moved to Michigan, that is.

Sighing, he lifted a hand and knocked on the pale wood of the door he had walked right up to, only to have it swing open seconds later. “Oh good, you’re finally here!" said Mrs. Quinn. “We’re actually just leaving. Dusting, dishes, vacuuming - if you run out of those things to do, I just got a package in the mail. It’s right over there - its just a large jewlery box and I would love for you to take it to our room and assemble it if you can? Thanks dear." Her speech was quick and to the point, and strangely upbeat today. “Oh, I made cookies! Please have as many as you want!" she smiled.

Vic stared back with a confused face that he hid with a smile. Why was she so uncharacteristically happy? “Uh, thanks. Yup. I’ll get all of that done," he nodded. She smiled again and seconds later her husband appeared in the room, jingling a set of car keys.

His demeanor was hopeful, but not nearly as high-spirited as his wife’s. “We’ll be back… well, you should actually be gone by the time we get back. Money is next to the cookies. If you need us, we’re going to the hospital, so please call one of our cell phones, and if we don’t answer call there and ask for us. They know us both by now," he explained.

"Okay," answered Vic, nodding his head and trying to keep up with them.

With a final few smiles and instructions, they were out the door in a flurry of movement, leaving Vic to take a deep breath. They said they’d be out past the time he was supposed to work until, which was about two hours. He could rush the cleaning and skip the assembling, that would give him plenty of time.

Cracking his knuckles, the first place he went was the kitchen, where a plate of chocolate chip cookies awaited him. He took only one and went to work at the dishes. Plates needed to be scrubbed and rinsed; but it wasn’t much. It was only two people and it had only been a week since they’d last been done. The vacuuming… Vic didn’t know why he bothered doing it so often; it never made a difference. Still, he did the entire downstairs floor in less than twenty minutes, even the rugs in the bathrooms.

Finally the dusting brought him upstairs. Again, it never made much of a difference, but knowing his own mother, Vic figured Mrs. Quinn would notice if he half-assed the job. So he went about every dust-able surface he could find until enough was enough. He returned the duster and grabbed the medium sized package that his boss had mentioned. It was a lot heavier than it looked and for a moment going up the stairs he almost dropped it.

Finally plopping it down in the middle of the Quinn’s bedroom, Vic hightailed it out and down the hall to Kellin’s room. All the cleaning had taken about an hour and twenty minutes. He had tons of time. Before turning the door knob, he stopped himself. He stood for a moment and took a deep breath, calming himself down.

Entering Kellin’s room felt like something that should be a somber occasion, even though he wasn’t technically dead. Still, Vic calmly stepped in once again. He had a growing sense of familiarity with this place. It was peaceful. It was like the walls were happy to see another human in here after they had been abandoned.

This time, Vic pulled out the chair and sat down at Kellin’s desk. He picked up the journal and placed it in front of him. Before he opened it, though, he took an even closer look. There were action figures on the top shelf. On one side was a set of colored pencils and paints. There was a picture of very young Kellin and a pet dog off to the side. Judging from the lack of fur in the household, Vic had to assume the pet was long gone since then.

Sighing, he opened up the journal to a random page and began to read.

I had a good day today. Sure it’s Saturday, but I went outside. I walked to the park with a sketchbook. I like drawing in sunny places even though its hard to get comfortable and there’s bugs. I like drawing the trees though and making the scene my own.

Someone said hello to me. I usually don’t go out unless its with my parents, so I was kind of surprised. It was just an elderly woman out walking her tiny dog, but still. She smiled at me. Is it weird that the little things like that give me hope in people? Maybe it’s cause I’ve been treated so badly since middle school… but whatever.

I like it when people smile at me like they want me to smile too. I wish I could offer up something like that to all the sad people walking around. I’m too scared to even say ‘hello’ though, because I feel like they’re going to laugh at me. I dunno. I wish school days were as nice as today was.

The entry ended there and for a moment, Vic looked at it and smiled. Besides the drawings it was the happiest thing he’d seen from Kellin. When he woke up, that’s what he wanted Kellin to see. A smile.

But that brought on a whole other array of questions - when Kellin woke up, would he be the same person? Hell, who knew if he was going to have permanent brain damage or something? Maybe he would never walk again, or even talk again. If anything, Vic hoped he could see draw and write. Everything he’d seen from him was so beautiful, it would be such a crying shame if that was just totally gone from the world.

The sound of the door crashing open downstairs made him slam the journal shut and carefully place it back in its place before Vic quickly got out of there, taking time to soundlessly close Kellin’s door. He could hear crying from the living room, and the booming of footsteps. He feared the absolute worst - something must have happened.

He took the steps two at a time. The scene in the living room made him want to throw up, however. Mrs. Quinn was on her knees, her husband kneeling beside her and trying to hold her to his chest.

"Vic," he said, looking up when he appeared. “I thought you’d be gone by now."

Vic looked towards the clock. It was only five minutes past the time he should have left. “Uh, I just wanted to carry that box upstairs for you and then I was on my way… um, what happened?" he dared to ask.

Mr. Quinn shot a sad look at his wife, who was still sobbing, but quieter now. “He won’t wake up…" she moaned. “No matter what."

"Our son um… we got a call, there’s more brain activity. They thought today would be the day. It disappeared though. Nothing has changed. It’s like he doesn’t want to fight anymore," explained her husband.

"I’m sorry," said Vic, his expression falling. “Truly, I can’t imagine what that’s like.. you’ve just gotta keep faith though, y’know?" it was the best he could offer up. They said nothing, just looked at each other in sadness. Sighing, Vic figured it was time for him to go. He backed in to the kitchen to grab the money they had left out for him and stepped outside, casting more sad glances and a hurried goodbye to them.

He couldn’t imagine the kind of pain they were in, and he didn’t want to. But one phrase that Mr. Quinn had left him with stuck. ‘It’s like he doesn’t want to fight anymore...’ In the back of Vic’s mind, a little voice told him that can’t be true. Kellin had fought so much when he was awake… He couldn’t give up now.

Biting his lip, Vic turned away from his house and started walking in the opposite direction. His mother might wander where he was going, but he didn’t care. And his excuse when he got home would probably be something stupid like “At least I’m not in a coma" and it would be funny to Mike and his dad, but not to him. They wouldn’t get it.

—-

The hospital was painted in such warm colors to give off some sort of atmosphere that was anything but ‘hospitalish’. It was bustling with activity; someone was being pushed out on a wheel chair by what must have been her friend. They were laughing; happy to be out of there. Another woman carried a newborn child. There was an old man walking out with a cane.

The receptionist at the front desk was the opposite of the one that sat in the guidance councilor’s office at the high school. She was young and friendly looking, and gave Vic a small smile when he stepped up to talk to her. “Can I help you?" she asked brightly.

"Uh, where can I find Kellin Quinn?" he asked awkwardly.

"Is he a patient?"

Vic stared at her blankly and for a moment he forgot that not everyone knew who he was. “Uh," he choked out. “Yeah."

The girl gave him an odd sort of look, but none the less she kept her phony smile on. She typed something in to her computer, glancing between the screen and Vic’s worry-ridden face. “Oh," she said. “He’s in the ICU. Room 314. Just take the elevator up to floor number two and bang a left, you’ll find it."

Vic gave her a quick thanks and hurried along to the elevator, which opened instantly to reveal another person on a wheel chair. A teenager, with her leg propped up and wrapped in a cast. Someone that looked to be her father was pushing her and a mother holding a young child’s hand stood next to them. Vic stood aside, letting them pass before he stepped up and hurriedly closed the doors.

It was less than a second spent on that elevator going from floor one to floor two. Before he got off, a young man was stepping on. His eyes were puffy and blood shot. Vic almost wanted to offer some sort of comfort until he remembered that would probably be a weird thing to do. He didn’t really realize he was looking around so much, trying to occupy his mind.

Anything to distract himself from how nervous he felt being here.But he had come all this way, and there was no turning back now. He walked slowly, scanning the room numbers next to the doors until his eyes rested on the correct one. Underneath it, he could see the braille lettering and reached a finger to touch it, even though he could see perfectly fine. Sucking in a breath, it was now or never.

Just like his bedroom, the doorknob was cold to the touch. The door didn’t make a sound as he opened it and stepped inside. The moment he did, his eyes fell on the mass of black hair spilling on to the pillows. He closed the door behind him, walking deeper in to the dimly lit room.

There were shelves where cards and stuffed animals sat. A vase of flowers, probably seen to by Mrs. Quinn was next to his bedside. There were tubes going in and out of him; including oxygen in his nose.

"Wow."

He didn’t realize how heavy the silence in the room was, save for the beeping of a monitor. “Uh, hi Kellin." Was he expecting some sort of response?

There was a chair next to the bed that Vic tentatively sat down in. It was almost like being up close to a celebrity; you feel like they’re not real, in can’t be the person in the pictures. The boy Vic had seen in the photos on his desk and in the living room had to have been a ghost. This Kellin was almost disheveled. The muscles in his arms obviously hadn’t grown. He was way skinnier than he should have been, and his face was pale. He looked young; but dead. His hair was longer than freshman Kellin’s. For a moment Vic wondered if Mrs. Quinn had taken a pair of scissors to her son’s hair while he was in here; the ends looked almost neatly trimmed.

It was probably one of the smaller things she could actually do for him, he figured.

"Um… So… I dunno if you hear me. I guess you don’t. Or do? Who knows. Well, I’m Vic. I work for your parents. Uh, sorry for snooping through your shit. See, that’s the only time you’re going to hear that because when you wake up you’re not going to know who I am and I’ll head for the fucking hills after that," said Vic, chuckling to himself. “I feel like you’d be pissed if you knew, just from what I’ve learned about you."

He looked towards the door, where a nurse passed by without bothering to look in to the room. “Once you wake up, they probably won’t need me anyways. Not that I mind. I would way rather you wake up and me not have a job than the other way around, you know?"

It was strange, holding a conversation with someone that was unresponsive. Like talking to yourself. Vic wondered vaguely what this boy’s voice actually sounded like.

"Um… I’m really sorry that you were so sad when you were awake," he started. “I’d be your friend. We’re the same age, you know? I don’t care that you’re gay, either. I’m gay too. We can be gay together."

He didn’t even realize how suggestive that sounded and for a moment he was glad Kellin couldn’t hear him. “Well, Kellin, as you can see, I’m painfully awkward too." He chuckled a little more, and just because it felt natural, he reached out and took Kellin’s hand. It was so limp and cold and strange… “Can you feel cold?" Vic asked.

Frowning, he placed his other hand on top of Kellin’s, warming it that way as he looked at Kellin’s face. He was practically intruding. This guy didn’t even know him. He could wake up and start screaming bloody murder because of the stranger in his room.

The door opened behind Vic, startling him and making him quickly return his hands to himself. A nurse stood in the doorway, a table behind her. “Oh," she said. “I’m sorry, who are you?"

"My name is Vic," said Vic, getting to his feet. “I-I was just visiting my uh.. friend," he explained.

The nurse nodded, bringing the table inside the room and making the lights a little brighter. “Sorry. It’s just, usually its his parents that only ever visit him."

"Yeah… I uh, moved away for a while. How is his condition?" he asked curiously, wanting to hear it from an official, not just the boy’s parents.

The nurse looked at him sadly. “Well, he’s been in a comatose state for two years, with not much brain activity at all. The doctors are actually starting to consider taking him off life support pretty soon."