All We Know Is Falling
Day Seven: Breakdown.
Sean woke up from an uncomfortable hour’s sleep on the waiting room floor. He had sat on the floor and rested his head on the chair he was sitting on, with his iPod plugged in to his ears, blasting at full volume. He stared blankly into space, just trying to not think, and when he woke up he tried to remember his dream, as to not let his mind wonder.
Sean walked in the rain, hands in pockets, shuffling his feet along the ground. He didn’t know why but he felt a sense of loneliness. Suddenly, the plain concrete floor became a field and the skies cleared, and he felt that suddenly he wasn’t wearing any shoes or socks and he felt the cold and wet grass between his toes. It was soft, and light, wet from dew. He felt arms wrap around his waist and looked down to see Ian’s tattooed arms around him. He turned around and the arms were gone, instead replaced with a beeping sound… every half a second.Beep. Beep. Beep. Suddenly, the sky turned from blur to grey and rain poured again. The beeping turned into one high pitched sound. Constant. It wouldn’t leave his head, no matter how much he shouted out in pain, and annoyance.
Sean’s eyes stayed closed, for when he opened them he saw bright lights that blinded him and burnt his eyes. He felt the music blasting in his ears, but he was unaware of what was being played. He could hear nothing, only that beeping sound. It had stopped being constant now, it was back to beeping.
He removed the ear buds from his ears and the beeping stopped, replaced by a light ringing instead. He stood up, feeling a bit light headed from sitting oddly on the floor. His legs were cramped but he walked anyway. He had to hold onto the door frame as he looked out upon the busy mass of bodies running around. The luminous digital clock on the wall opposite him told him it was one in the morning. He felt his heart sink as he realised he had been asleep for a long time, and he jogged lightly to the recovery room, putting his face against the glass. The blinds were sort of pulled, but he could see the bed was empty, with Ian Watkins on the wall chart crossed out. Sean felt tears in his eyes again, as he pawed at the glass.
“Sir?” the nurse who had taken Sean to the recovery room and to the waiting room asked Sean, “Mr Smith, it’s Rita? Remember?”
Sean looked at the lady and nodded. He felt the tears run down his cheeks, as he fought back more salty water. She smiled, and asked what was wrong. His eyes shifted to the empty room, as she covered her mouth a little in shock. She ran over to the reception desk, coming back with a smile on her face.
She took Sean’s hand and led him to the elevator. She called for it, ignoring her beeping pager and turning it down. She pressed “Floor Three” on the control wall. She took Sean along two more corridors before taking Sean into a ward. It was full of people all about Sean’s age, all with wires leading into them. The nurse went up to another nurse, and she pointed her in another direction. Rita led Sean to another door, instructed him to rub alcohol into his hands and go into the room. With that, she walked off.
Sean felt nervous as he rubbed the alcohol into his hands, feeling it sting slightly again. He fought from rubbing his eyes, instead trying to rub them on his shoulder, and with his sleeve. He pushed down on the solid door’s handle, edging the door open a little bit.
He felt every single bit of emotion poor out when he saw his boyfriend laying on the bed, with a wire and pad on his heart, but apart from that, alive, fine, breathing, heart beating. He was on his side, his legs curled up, with his hands flat together under his head. His mouth was slightly open, from a small and thin tube placed down his throat with what the packet said was “Internal Burn Aid”. Sean remembered that Ian had a burnt throat from the gas fire, from the note on the end of the bed.
He looked towards the end of the bed Ian was on now and saw another metal clipboard bent over the railing, and walked towards it. He picked it up, and saw it had the same handwritten notes on it as before, except at the bottom it had a few more notes:
Ian Watkins, name known from ID in pocket.
Collapsed building. Fire from gas stored (research).
Found Unconscious at 18:56.
Damage to left calf muscle and right arm and hand through shattered glass.
Self-Induced Mild Coma, recovery fromsmoke-related lung damage burn damage to throat and loss of blood .
Resuscitated At 19:17.
Resuscitated at 22:18.
Relative: Sean?
Name mentioned when awoke.
Sean felt tears brimming in his eyes.
He looked towards Ian, whose mouth was now forming a small smile. Sean dropped the clipboard to the floor with a small clang and walked around to the side of Ian’s bed, holding onto the bed for support.
He stared at Ian, willing something to happen.
It did.
“Hey,” Ian croaked, smiling slightly, eyes still shut. Ian forced his eyes to part, and saw Sean standing there, his mouth forming a little ‘O’, tears in his eyes. Sean smiled a little, then a lot, and then finally burst into tears, falling onto his knees with his head buried in Ian’s shoulder. Ian knew he’d been through a lot, since his body was in so much pain, but he knew he hadn’t been through nearly as much as Sean had.
Sean didn’t even care. He was crying over Ian, getting his shoulder wet and snotty, hugging him, kissing him, telling him he loved him over and over again. He couldn’t even believe what had happened. He didn’t want to. All he cared about was that Ian was safe. All he cared about was that Ian was alive.
Sean walked in the rain, hands in pockets, shuffling his feet along the ground. He didn’t know why but he felt a sense of loneliness. Suddenly, the plain concrete floor became a field and the skies cleared, and he felt that suddenly he wasn’t wearing any shoes or socks and he felt the cold and wet grass between his toes. It was soft, and light, wet from dew. He felt arms wrap around his waist and looked down to see Ian’s tattooed arms around him. He turned around and the arms were gone, instead replaced with a beeping sound… every half a second.Beep. Beep. Beep. Suddenly, the sky turned from blur to grey and rain poured again. The beeping turned into one high pitched sound. Constant. It wouldn’t leave his head, no matter how much he shouted out in pain, and annoyance.
Sean’s eyes stayed closed, for when he opened them he saw bright lights that blinded him and burnt his eyes. He felt the music blasting in his ears, but he was unaware of what was being played. He could hear nothing, only that beeping sound. It had stopped being constant now, it was back to beeping.
He removed the ear buds from his ears and the beeping stopped, replaced by a light ringing instead. He stood up, feeling a bit light headed from sitting oddly on the floor. His legs were cramped but he walked anyway. He had to hold onto the door frame as he looked out upon the busy mass of bodies running around. The luminous digital clock on the wall opposite him told him it was one in the morning. He felt his heart sink as he realised he had been asleep for a long time, and he jogged lightly to the recovery room, putting his face against the glass. The blinds were sort of pulled, but he could see the bed was empty, with Ian Watkins on the wall chart crossed out. Sean felt tears in his eyes again, as he pawed at the glass.
“Sir?” the nurse who had taken Sean to the recovery room and to the waiting room asked Sean, “Mr Smith, it’s Rita? Remember?”
Sean looked at the lady and nodded. He felt the tears run down his cheeks, as he fought back more salty water. She smiled, and asked what was wrong. His eyes shifted to the empty room, as she covered her mouth a little in shock. She ran over to the reception desk, coming back with a smile on her face.
She took Sean’s hand and led him to the elevator. She called for it, ignoring her beeping pager and turning it down. She pressed “Floor Three” on the control wall. She took Sean along two more corridors before taking Sean into a ward. It was full of people all about Sean’s age, all with wires leading into them. The nurse went up to another nurse, and she pointed her in another direction. Rita led Sean to another door, instructed him to rub alcohol into his hands and go into the room. With that, she walked off.
Sean felt nervous as he rubbed the alcohol into his hands, feeling it sting slightly again. He fought from rubbing his eyes, instead trying to rub them on his shoulder, and with his sleeve. He pushed down on the solid door’s handle, edging the door open a little bit.
He felt every single bit of emotion poor out when he saw his boyfriend laying on the bed, with a wire and pad on his heart, but apart from that, alive, fine, breathing, heart beating. He was on his side, his legs curled up, with his hands flat together under his head. His mouth was slightly open, from a small and thin tube placed down his throat with what the packet said was “Internal Burn Aid”. Sean remembered that Ian had a burnt throat from the gas fire, from the note on the end of the bed.
He looked towards the end of the bed Ian was on now and saw another metal clipboard bent over the railing, and walked towards it. He picked it up, and saw it had the same handwritten notes on it as before, except at the bottom it had a few more notes:
Ian Watkins, name known from ID in pocket.
Collapsed building. Fire from gas stored (research).
Found Unconscious at 18:56.
Damage to left calf muscle and right arm and hand through shattered glass.
Self-Induced Mild Coma, recovery fromsmoke-related lung damage burn damage to throat and loss of blood .
Resuscitated At 19:17.
Resuscitated at 22:18.
Relative: Sean?
Name mentioned when awoke.
Sean felt tears brimming in his eyes.
He looked towards Ian, whose mouth was now forming a small smile. Sean dropped the clipboard to the floor with a small clang and walked around to the side of Ian’s bed, holding onto the bed for support.
He stared at Ian, willing something to happen.
It did.
“Hey,” Ian croaked, smiling slightly, eyes still shut. Ian forced his eyes to part, and saw Sean standing there, his mouth forming a little ‘O’, tears in his eyes. Sean smiled a little, then a lot, and then finally burst into tears, falling onto his knees with his head buried in Ian’s shoulder. Ian knew he’d been through a lot, since his body was in so much pain, but he knew he hadn’t been through nearly as much as Sean had.
Sean didn’t even care. He was crying over Ian, getting his shoulder wet and snotty, hugging him, kissing him, telling him he loved him over and over again. He couldn’t even believe what had happened. He didn’t want to. All he cared about was that Ian was safe. All he cared about was that Ian was alive.