@whumptober2021 Day 4: “Do you trust me?” | taken hostage | pushed
CW: hospital whump, sedation, unwilling but not nonconsensual sedation, references to weight loss, consent/medical proxy issues, guilt surrounding said medical proxy issues
Takes place roughly a few months after escape from Samuel, initial recovery period
For a moment, the steady, although fast beeping of the hospital monitor was the only sound to fill the room, fear strung between the silence as Milo’s gaze darted between Nick and the woman in blue, flower-dotted scrubs. He’d pushed himself as far into the corner of the bed as he could, as if he could hide behind Nick, patiently at his bedside, from the world.
He could tell the words were supposed to have bite, but the distinct shake in his voice erased all pretenses of anger. All there was left was fear.
“I need you to trust me when I tell you they aren’t going to hurt you. You need these tests, or you’ll keep getting sick again.”
Milo stared hard at him. This was the second hospital trip this month; when Milo had gone almost ten minutes without waking from a fainting spell Nick had foregone the ambulance entirely and hauled them to the ER himself. This wasn’t normal, not this far into how much weight Milo had put back on, and the entire situation was making the both of them agitated.
Deep breath, in and out. He couldn’t bring himself to lie.
“We’ll be here for another night, probably. Maybe two. But then home.” He was leveled with a wary, indecisive look. “Promise.”
That seemed to do it. Milo’s arm shook as he offered it to the nurse, eyes downcast. Nick felt like he was going to be sick. Both of them flinched when the needle pierced the inside of his elbow, Milo visibly fighting the urge to yank his arm away.
Milo blinked, staring at the needle still in the nurse’s hand in an obvious attempt to gage how he felt. The seconds ticked by all too slowly for either of their liking. Nick felt sick at the look of weighted fear on Milo’s face when the fog started to settle over his expression, fingers reaching desperately for Nick’s hand as the sedatives took hold. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Milo’s eyes. Not when he found his voice, even through the fast acting drugs, and started begging. Apologizing. For what, he already knew.
The room was soon quiet. Too quiet. Nick clenched his jaw to hold back angry tears, sliding his hand into Milo’s as he slipped away. The whole thing made him want to scream. The doctor had taken one look at Milo’s chart and decided he’d require sedation for treatment and blood tests, the incidences of violence in his record were simply piled too high. It was either persuasion or force, and Nick would do anything to avoid watching Milo held down in a hospital bed again. It reminded him too much of those first few weeks in the hospital.
It made him nauseous to think he had that kind of power over Milo to make that kind of medical decision for him, to let the doctors do what they needed without a care for the pleading and panic from their own patient. Being able to coax him into it was better, but not by much.
All he could do now was sit and wait as the nurses did their work, thumb rubbing soothing circles he knew Milo could still feel even through the haze, hating just how much trust the other had in him, trust that he didn’t feel he could ever deserve.
