Need You Now
The incessant beeping ringing through Aiden’s ears is tantalizing. His eyes heavy but with no real purpose of sleeping. He can’t sleep. No, no, no. He won’t let himself. There’s an inhale and exhale of air that he takes, his head resting back against the chair that he’s sure will give him neck problems if he doesn’t adjust himself but there’s little care for him to do so. In reality, Aiden was supposed to be wide-eyed making sure everything was alright with Jamal. But after the first fifteen minutes, that had to wear off or he was seriously going to get kicked out of the room. So, he took Eric’s mums’ advice and took a seat, head resting back and not thinking about the IV stuck into Jamal’s arm or the heart rate monitor at his fingertips. It was better ignoring it than dealing with it in that moment with Jamal unresponsive (sleeping) than anything. The beeping doesn’t settle his nerves at all, though. It’s probably been five minutes he’s let himself be in that situation, being alone in the room with Jamal, before Aidens’ opening his own eyes and turning to his boyfriend.
The worry that cascades on his face isn’t any less obvious now than it had been the moment he’d walked into the room, hands carefully and with hesitancy reaching for his hand, tightening them and hoping Jamal would do the same. Now, all Aiden allows himself to do is to lean over (his seat already as scooted towards the bed as possible) with a thumb carefully smoothing out the lines of exhaustion underneath Jamal’s eyes but not being able to take away the actual appearance of it. “’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, Jammah.” He whispers, eyes misting over out of pure guilt. He should’ve been there. He should’ve. His fingers carefully trickle down along Jamal’s stubbly face, fingers lightly brushing over Jamal’s jawline before Aiden brings his hand back to himself. He has to wipe at his eyes with his thumb, acting as if his nose was itching rather than the fact that he was actually fucking crying. He’d heard Eric’s mum. He’d heard it enough to know that Jamal was going to be fine. But Jamal didn’t look fine laying there motionless. It brought too much traumatizing moments as the monitor mocked him in the background as if to say—I may be beeping now. But what about in thirty seconds from now?—it was a dramatic, over the top feeling. But Aiden really believed he had justification for feeling that way.
He exhales a heavy breath, chin resting against the comforter with Jamal’s hand interlaced with his own. The position Aiden is in is awkward but he needs this. He needs the proximity. Needs the warmth of Jamal’s previous-cold-like hands to stay the way they are and he needs to feel that pulse at the wrist of Jamal’s fingers to continue doing what its’ meant to do. He lays the side of his face on the bed, eyes looking towards the rise and fall of Jamal’s chest before Aiden lifts Jamal’s hand and places a kiss to it. “Need you to wake up, babe.” he whispers once again, quietly to himself in a desperate manner. “Need you to tell me you’re okay.”