Please, Take the Wheel. No alarms, no surprises.

[Aureolin Sky Meadows]

(Cont)

Lillian Meadows had called back, and sounded very distressed on the phone. While Old Crow was a country away, she offered to fly down with Maria- the sweet little girl who was Aureolin's little sister. She kept asking if Aureolin would be alright, as she clearly loved her son more than anything. At one point, she had broken down to tears, and claimed she couldn't lose him. She had lost her husband to a horse race, and even voiced her fears about Aureolin racing in three months. She clearly had a lot on her plate. In the background, a little girl could be heard asking if "Aur-Aur was okay." at the end of the call, she asked if they could cover the bill, but explained that they were hardly getting on themselves now. 

A nurse came up to John Smith and asked if he would like to see the boy. As she led him into the small room, she asked him to be easy with the boy. Amnesia, she whispered. Amnesia was a painful blockade. 

Can you lift your left arm, sweetie?

Aureolin tried to lift his arm, but shook his head. He was shaking too badly to think. "I-I ne-need Larkin-in...." 

The  kind smile on the attendant's face dimmed a bit. She swallowed uncomfortably, and went back to her analysis. 

Can you try?

"It.. It hurts... It.. Ghn..."

She reached over to take his hand, trying to comfort him as the nurse next to him prepared an IV drip. Aureolin's breath fogged the respirator over his mouth, but it wasn't long before a scream split his lips. The nurse holding his hand had to struggle to hold him down, before another attendant rushed to restrain him. Sweetie, please-- we can't do this if you struggle. "NO!" It's just a little needle.,. "NO! I NEED LARKIN! STOP!" he cried, before slowly falling still, sobs wracking his small form. The needle was slowly slipped into his skin. "Stop..." He tossed his head to one side, "Ss-St-stop..." 

The nurse at the door offered a sympathetic look towards the pretty blonde boy, but handed over a clipboard to the man. He keeps asking for Larkin... But according to this file, Larkin Zaranchii was killed in a car crash a year ago... She shook her head, His mother said the two were deeply in love. He tried to commit suicide after Larkin's death, and thus, was enrolled in St. Helena's... She sighed sympathetically, Poor kid... Are you his counselor? Alaric Jester? 

In the room behind them, Aureolin had calmed slowly, partially due to the fact the IV in his arm was slowly feeding him a sedative. His hazy chocolate eyes fell on the teacher in the doorway, and though his words were hardly heard, he hoped to catch his attention. "M-Mr. Smi-Ith..." he whispered. The attendants looked up at the man as well, and then back to the battered boy on the bed. His legs were both bandaged and in firm braces, though they were covered by a blanket. He was dressed in one of those simple hospital gowns, looking very much like a pretty little girl in a blue dress under the blankets, he slowly reached up towards his Teacher with a trembling hand, before the dainty appendage fell back to the bed. Tears were welling up once more in his glassy eyes. "I'm scared..."

[John Smith]

It was sad and reassuring at the same time to hear that Mrs. Meadows seemed genuinely concerned about the well being of her child, unlike so many other parents he'd met. A supportive family was always a good sign, and usually spelled good news for eventual recovery. The woman was obviously under a lot of strain herself. John had considered asking her to call someone, a mental health professional, for herself. She sounded like she could use some good counsel. Instead, he found himself calming her down over the phone, providing her with comforting words and then instructing her through a deep breathing exercise before they continued with the conversation. He told her that it would probably be best that she make arrangements to fly out the next day--- a frantic flight over could only cause her more stress, and visiting hours would be over at the hospital before she could arrive, so flying out that night wouldn't do her any good. He instructed her to make plans to fly out in the morning to see her son, but assured her that he would be all right if she couldn't get time off work. She seemed less frantic by the time the phone call was over, and thanked John profusely.

He could take some comfort in knowing that he'd helped her in some small way.

John's heart broke for the boy when he saw them. He was so small in that big bed. It was hard to believe that he could be eighteen years old. He looked like a frightened child. He was just a frightened child, really, John realized. He wished that Alaric would hurry up. He didn't know what to say to this boy. He didn't know enough about him to know how to comfort him. He was babbling hysterically, incoherently, and John wondered if they would have to sedate him to prevent the boy from injuring himself any further. It was hard to look at Aureolin, bruised and wild eyed. He hadn't even known the boy's name before this, only seen his face around campus on occasion. He wished he knew what to say. The boy was obviously terrified. He made as if to grasp for John's hand, but his strength failed him. John reached out and squeezed the boy's hand comfortingly.

"You're going to be all right, Aureolin." He said. "But, you've got to stay calm so that the doctors can take care of you. Can you do that, Aureolin?"

[Aureolin Sky Meadows]

The small boy closed his eyes and took a feverish breath, holding his Teacher's hand tightly as the nurse slid the needle slowly back into his skin. "A-Aah..." he gasped, forcing himself not to struggle as the metal pierced his skin. He clenched his jaw and whimpered. Aureolin did not like needles. Ever since he saw a rival team Pin-fire a poor stallion, he was terrified of them. He held Mr. Smith's hand even after the nurse told him it was over. He needed something to hold on to. 

His tears were slowly stopping, but he wasn't doing it willingly. The IV drip was feeding him a sedative- quite against his will. He began protesting, though his voice was quiet and slurred, "N-No... No, please... I can't go to sleep... No..." His eyes began closing slowly, the chocolate irises falling on John Smith, "Mr. Smith... Please..." he didn't want to be knocked out. He remembered the sedatives that he had been told Larkin Zaranchii never woke up from. He began whispering words slurred and unheard,  before he began fading between consciousness and unconsciousness. He didn't want to sleep. He kept asking the nurses to wake him up, begging them pitifully, hoping they would let him wake up. They never did, however, and his grip in the Teacher's hand slowly falls limp.

A ping from his backpack, sitting off to the side of the room, drew an attendant's attention. She picked up the bag and dug out a cell phone, offering it to the teacher. A text message had arrived, from Alaric Jester, apologizing and saying he wouldn't be able to make it. Something about a violent student escaping confinement. The woman went through the backpack, trying to find something of comfort for the boy, and had come out with a small bag of cat treats, a set of pencils, a few dollars, a pack of Skittles, a letter from his little sister, and... A sketchbook. The attendant blinked slowly at the page it was open to- a half-finished, but beautiful sketch of of a stallion and jockey. It was half-colored, but the checkered blue and white mask of the horse was identifiable. 

She blinked and looked up with a weak smile, He was a fan of Gregory Meadows and Twilight Runner? I remember them. Almost won the Triple Crown.She shook her head slowly A shame that horse gave out... Fell and crushed Meadows. But... What's this? She narrowed her eyes at his signature at the bottom of the page, and suddenly froze. The young woman looked up to John in surprise This is... Aureolin Meadows!? The Jockey's son!? She looked genuinely surprised,  but instantly had a change of respect for the little boy. She carefully lifted his arm and put the sketchbook under it, stroking his hair lightly. I knew Gregory... Not personally, but he and I went to the same college... I was there when the poor old Stallion fell. Twenty feet from the finish line....

[John Smith]

Now that Aureolin was unconscious, and not in immediate danger of hurting himself, the Jamaican nurse who had been talking to John earlier, now entered the room with a clip board. "We are bringing in Simon Gallagher now. He's a little sleepy from sedation, but he has not been violent."

That was a relief, John supposed. But, it really didn't change the fact that there were two young people who were in hospital beds, suffering with more than just the physical kind of pain. He couldn't have gotten the Gallagher boy's parents down to see him unless they were there to collect his ashes, and maybe even then they'd ask for the school to cover the cost of cremation. It made John feel sick thinking about that woman's words on the phone. How could you be so callous? He'd said that her son--- and that's what he was, her son, biological or not--- had hurt himself, was fighting for his life in a hospital bed, and she'd actually told him that they wouldn't pay for it. Not a word about Simon, not an 'is he going to be all right?' or a 'does he need me to come down?' not even a 'why did this happen?', it was just money to her. John would have shown more concern for a complete stranger than this woman was showing for a boy who was supposed to be in her care, really.

At least Mrs. Meadows seemed to have a heart. A heart that was aching now, yes, a heart that could break, a heart that could be heavy, but a heart all the same, and a heart that could feel love, indescribable love, for the unhappy little boy who was sleeping in front of John. It was reassuring to know that, whatever troubles he had, Aureolin Meadows would always have a family that loved him.

Simon was wheeled in on a hospital gurney by two muscular male nurses. The boy in the bed was pale with eyes that were darkly circled from tiredness or blood loss. He was awake and staring at nothing. John wondered if he was brain dead, though it didn't make sense for him to be. Maybe it was just the sedatives they'd given him... they'd given him sedatives hadn't they? And, pain medications, they could put you into a drugged stupor. But, no matter how John tried to rationalize it he couldn't get over the feeling that there was something that was just not right about the boy. He was supposed to be what... sixteen, seventeen? But, Simon looked centuries older than the other boy in the room. It could be that Aureolin looked young for his age, and that was probably the case, but the aged look went deeper than that in Simon. He looked half-dead, like he'd given up. Where Aureolin struggled and seemed to fear death, to show a maybe not healthy, but certainly normal aversion to being sedated, this other boy looked like he could ask for nothing more than to be put to sleep and never woken.

Was this why his step-mother felt nothing for him? Was he like this all the time? John didn't know, he'd only seen him in that brief instant earlier in the day when he'd been more concerned about his room mate, Ciel's well being than Simon's. There was no life in those eyes, just ancient pain. Looking at the boy, John had trouble believing that he was going to pull through. The fact that he'd shown no resistance seemed less like a blessing now, and more like another symptom of certain doom. The boy obviously wasn't resisting because he didn't have the life left in him to resist.

"Can he talk?" John asked the nurse, as they transferred the boy's limp form over from the gurney to a bed.

"He hasn't said a word." She responded, gravely, not bothering to sugar coat it. "We don't know what is wrong. It could just be shock, but that is psychological in this case. His physical responses are completely normal."

John walked over to the boy's bed. "Simon, can you hear me? Well, if you can you are going to be all right..." Now that he thought of it, that was probably the last thing that the boy wanted to hear. "Are you in there, Simon? Because, if you are it might help if you told us how you were feeling. Do you think you could do that?" No response. John's heart sank. The boy hadn't even looked at him yet. Hadn't even blinked, as far as he could tell. His eyes remained fixed on some spot on the ceiling. "I'm Dr. Smith from St. Helena's, in case you were wondering. Dr. John Smith... it's a silly name I know, but it's the only one I've got. Well, the only legal one I've got, but I wont get into that now." He was just making small talk now, while the nurses hovered around hooking him up to various monitors. "Do you like science, Simon? Or, how about science fiction? Your room was full of books. Do you like to read?"

Simon's gaze finally shifted, so he was looking directly at John. His lips were parted, dry and cracked. Maybe he couldn't speak because he needed water? Dehydration could explain the dark circles around his eyes. "I love to read." The boy said, in a monotone, his brows knitted together, and he licked his lips. "Could I have some water, please?"

Relief flooded through John's veins like a drug, and he found himself smiling at Simon, in spite of the unpleasantness of their present situation. "Of course you may have some water. Someone get this man some water." He said, spinning around to face the nurses, who seemed wary of the new development. If he was lucid enough to speak then he was certainly lucid enough to resist; that was their reasoning, and John knew it but refused to think of it that way. The boy didn't look like he was going to try to struggle. "Books, books, books! I love books. Always read books, whenever you get the chance. What sort of books do you like to read, Simon?"

Simon reached over to take the paper cup of water that the nurse had handed him. He choked a bit on the water at first, but it felt great on his throat. When he had quite recovered, he looked back at John, fixing him with a heavy look. "All sorts of books."

"Is that right? That's brilliant! I love all sorts of books too. There aren't many people like us, you know. It's a gift to be a reader." John said, warmly.

"Is it?" Simon said, like he couldn't believe that he was gifted with anything, but he didn't try to argue.

"It is. You can be whoever you want, whenever you want want, wherever you want in books. You can be all alone but surrounded by friends. Books... ah, books, they're like little worlds bound in leather, or cardboard, or whatever it is they use to make books these days. You know, I don't think they use real leather any more. Imitation leather has gotten to be so life like, well not life like, because leather is the opposite of alive, but more hide like. Now that I think of it, I'm not certain that's such a good thing... I should really consider becoming vegan."


Simon actually managed to smile, through the haze of the drugs and pain. In another life he might have found a friend in this rambling doctor. It was funny. Usually he immediately regretted his suicide attempts, both because they had failed and because they had even been attempted. He was more comfortable with the idea of it being one way or the other--- either not attempting and remaining alive, or committing the act and being dead. Attempting and failing was like being half alive and half dead in a way, at least it was most of the time. Now, he was just tired, and he found that he couldn't care less one way or the other. He looked at the bandages on his wrists. The stitches itched, but he didn't dare even think of touching them. If he touched them they would tear, and then they'd have to stitch him up again, only the wouldn't trust him the next time, and might attempt to restrain him. No, leaving it all be sounded like the wise thing to do. The doctor from school was talking to him, and he knew that he should try to make conversation to keep up the semblance of normality, but he couldn't find it in him to make his lips move. He just sat there and listened and watched. He didn't wish he was dead, but he didn't care to be alive either. It was like being in limbo, uncomfortable, but not intolerable.

Simon wanted to sleep.

[Aureolin Sky Meadows]

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

It was the last thing he heard before slipping into unconsciousness. The nurses flitted around him, some speaking to the man who was speaking to the boy on the newly brought in bed, some searching the turquoise backpack against the wall for any sort of information on the little blonde boy in the hospital bed. Anything to provide a reference as to why he would cry so fiercely, demand to be let out of sleep and into the waking. But now he lay peacefully, his chest slowly rising and falling. A nurse stopped to pull the blanket over his painfully thin shoulders, tucking him in as a mother would. Who wouldn't? Aureolin seemed so lost in the sea of blankets, too innocent for what had happened. 

Beep.      Beep.                 Beep.        

The nurses and attendants looked up immediately, watching the heart rate monster slow it's tempo. Immediately, people were moving around as Aureolin began to twitch in his sleep, breaths light and airy. 

One long tone.
And a red line.

Aureolin didn't see what happened. He didn't see the doctors being rushed in, or the commotion he caused. The needle was taken from his arm frantically, blankets swept away to reveal his dainty form limp in the blue gown. A nurse stimulated his chest, breathing into his lips to try and get him to wake up. Nothing happened. He's not responding! A doctor ran In from another room, pushing a cart so fast he nearly ran into  Dr. Smith. With nurses frantically trying to unhook and rehook things form the failing boy, the doctor raised the two instruments with a "Clear" and shocked the boy. 

Once again, Aureolin did not respond.

"Father!" the little blonde boy smiled and ran to the man in front of him, being taken  up in those strong arms, the arms he knew so well. He smiled, tears of joy running down his face as he inhaled the familiar scent of hay and horses, burying his face in his father's neck. He felt a reassuring touch on his back, but soon, the touch faded. Aureolin looked up at the man, reaching to touch his chiseled features, only to have the dainty appendage wrapped in another pair of larger, worn hands. Aureolin was confused. He couldn't stay with his father... Just a bit longer? "Father-" he made a move to step forward, but Gregory Meadows only shook his head with a smile. Go back, he said with a kind smile. I'll always be here. Go back, Aureolin. Win the gold for me. Aureolin blinked slowly, but didn't have a chance to speak, before...

It wasn't until the second shock that the monitors came to life, jumping and spiking normally As his heart jumped into action. Aureolin's eyes opened, and he was shaking to find nurses surrounding him, and something cold on his chest. It made him shiver. The cold item was removed, his gown snapped back up, but that still didn't answer his question. What happened?

The nurses asked him if he could do a few things, if he was breathing normally, feeling alright, etcetera. They stripped him of his gown, making him blush profusely until they managed to put a pair of undergarments on him. He was still blushing in embarrassment, when they began putting little suction pads all over his chest, and one on his head. That scared him. He asked weakly for Dr. Smith, his voice hardly above a whisper.

He couldn't speak. Attendants were monitoring his heart and respiratory rates, cold pricked his skin when the needle was inserted into his arm yet again, but he didn't struggle. He told one attendant in a weak voice that he had to use the washroom, but now wished that he hadn't. They slowly gave him a light sedative, and while he was too out of it to care, they had put a catheter in a place that he felt was already shown too much today. He closed his eyes a few moments at a time, before he found himself back in the little room, tucked in neatly with two of the hospital blankets. His legs were elevated by pulley slings, both re-braced and heavy. When they had replaced his bandages, the sight was heartbreaking. His legs were a mangled mess of bone and flesh- doctors didn't know if he was going to lose them or not yet. 

Aureolin looked to the side to see his cellphone and sketchbook. Ooh, where were those skittles? He was hungry right about now... "Guuh..." he managed to utter a noise, his Tongue still not fully operational from the sedative. He looked very much like he was in a trance. 

[Simon Patrick Gallagher]

"He's not here." Said the tired looking boy in the bed across from Aureolin's. "He was here, but you've been out for a long time. Doctor Smith had to go back to school. He teaches and stuff, when he's not filling in for our counsellors." Simon's wrist dressings had been changed twice since the Asian boy had last opened his eyes. The stitches were not the dissolving sort, and this worried Simon a little bit. That meant an extra trip to the hospital for stitch extraction. He wasn't too fond of having people stare at his wounds for any extended amount of time, and stitch extraction could take a long time. Simon's mood was level, completely level, something he hadn't experienced in a long time, maybe even years. They'd put him on some sort of antidepressant alongside his regular mood stabilizers, and it seemed to have elevated his normal slightly depressed base line mood to a level of mood neutrality. He felt like an android.

"So, what happened to you anyway?" Simon found himself asking, though he knew it could very well be a sensitive subject. With injuries that severe, it could easily have been a failed suicide attempt. Wouldn't that be interesting? Two suicides in one day, and both failures? It was funny too, because Aureolin--- Aureo he'd called himself, had been one of the last people he'd spoken to before his attempt. Maybe they put suicide sauce in the food? The thought was amusing, though it shouldn't have been. It really wasn't funny. There was nothing funny about being stuck in a hospital bed with a tube shoved up your dick to drain urine from your body, and another tube connected to a hole in your hand to drip fluids back into your body. Okay, so maybe being kept in a children's ward was a little funny when you thought about it, especially since he'd heard the nurses gossiping earlier about how young Aureo looked for eighteen. Eighteen! No way on Earth was that boy eighteen! Technically they should have placed him in one of the adult wards, but because Simon was already stuck in the room with the walls painted with smiling cartoon animals, they saved space and confusion by just sticking both of the boys in the same room.

A car crash, they'd said. But, that didn't really tell Simon anything. It could have been a legitimate accident--- the fault of the other driver, or something. It could have been the result of distracted driving, in which case Aureo would have no one to blame but himself, but Simon didn't think he looked like the type to text and drive. And, then there was suicide. It could have easily been a failed suicide. Simon was curious, oddly enough. Though he was completely numb emotionally, he still felt curiosity, or nosiness really. How did Aureo's accident concern him? Not at all. That's how. Still, he'd seen Aureo's junk once today already, when the nurses had been inserting his catheter, so that had to count for something.

Yeah, that definitely didn't mean anything.

Seeing the other boy might have been interesting, maybe even a bit exciting if Simon had any of that excitement left in him. But, today it didn't do anything for him. Sex didn't sound even remotely appealing. There had to be something wrong with him. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He was here, wasn't he? That was about as wrong as it could possibly get. He wondered if Ember had gotten his letter, and suddenly regretted writing it. He couldn't remember exactly what it said, but he knew that it would probably sound scary, trite, whiny, and maybe even creepy. Definitely creepy. He groaned, remembering it. Why had he written a note? Now, the counsellors would probably collect the writings and have a discussion about all of the shades of crazy that they found there. Maybe he'd be put into indefinite isolation. That actually sounded like a more favourable outcome than having to face school again. The humiliation of failure. Of being weak.

"You don't have to tell me what happened if you don't want to. It's really none of my business."

[Aureolin Sky Meadows]

Aureolin blinked slowly, a small shiver running down his body. He felt... Weird. The bad kind of weird. The small boy closed his eyes and took a few breaths, but couldn't help the feeling that something was off in his lower regions. He squirmed a bit as a warm feeling rushed through him, and in his embarrassment, the poor boy thought he had wet the bed and froze on the spot. This was not the case, however, as the fluid simply drained out from his bladder to the tube. He gave a light noise with a whimper, not able to find words to describe how uncomfortable it was. Especially with his legs spread, and raised by the slings. He took a few breaths, wide-eyed. Maybe it was best if Dr. Smith wasn't here. He wouldn't have to see him so pitiful. The little Asian turned his head to the side, closing his eyes tightly. He couldn't look at the other boy. He was too ashamed.

His legs hurt. He tried to tell a passing nurse that, but nothing came from his cracked lips. His throat was so dry... Was he even allowed any water? He tried licking his lips, but his tongue was dry as well. He slowly turned back towards the other boy, a desperate look on his face when he saw the glass of water on his nightstand. It was partially empty before, but it was water nonetheless. He strained to reach over, fingertips brushing the glass, when he snatched it up and took small sips. Aureolin apologized quietly, and then spoke, "I want to go home," he said softly, "I didn't mean to.. I just... Turned on the car and drove away... I was going too fast..." He closed his eyes with a heavy breath, "I'm such a dumbass... I don't know why anyone cares about me anymore... All I do is cause pain..."

He opened his eyes slowly, studying the boy across the room with equally tired brown eyes. He shifted a bit under the covers, trying to pull the blanket over his thin shoulders, though he was too afraid to move his arm with the IV in it. Aureolin closed his eyes. The room was spinning. He let out a quiet moan of discomfort, crinkling his nose. He felt like he was going to throw up. Maybe the water wasn't a good idea... "Aah..." Aureolin shut his eyes tightly as his stomach began cramping. He whimpered, griping the sheets. 

[Simon Patrick Gallagher]

Simon let out a low whistle. "Car crash, huh? That had to be pretty scary." His words were soft, and not unkind. He'd been in a car crash before, and though it had been only a minor fender-bender, he'd been terrified at the time. He'd been in the first grade when the crash had happened, and he still remembered it clearly. His step-mother was still a new concept to him, and so was road rage. But, he got to know them both pretty well, pretty fast, didn't he? She'd been riding this guy's bumper when he made a sudden stop, and she'd gone and ploughed into the back of his car with her big ugly beige Cadillac. Simon had gotten rope-burn on his neck from the seat belt, and Carolyn had gotten a minor case of whiplash, which she'd complained about for years to come. She blamed Simon for the crash, of course. She said he'd been distracting her by talking. Whenever her neck started aching in the years that followed she'd curse him and throw the nearest portable object on hand at his face. The crash had been a jolt and the sound of metal on metal. A loud bang, really. And, Carolyn's hot coffee had spilled all over Simon's school clothes and scorched his skin bright red. But, she was more concerned with the stains on the upholstery in the car than burns on her son.

The whiplash was all exaggerated. It was a pity too; if she'd gotten her neck broken Simon might still be going to a regular high school, and not trying to kill himself at every chance he got. But, as bad as it got with Carolyn, he couldn't blame her for everything. Bipolar disorder was a result of genes and bad chemicals in the womb, not bad parenting. She couldn't have made it a whole lot better though.

"I'm such a dumbass... I don't know why anyone cares about me anymore... All I do is cause pain..."

"Don't say that." Simon said, though it sounded outrageously hypocritical coming from him. "Car crashes could happen to anyone. It wasn't completely your fault." The words tasted bland in his mouth, like cotton, like someone else's words that had no meaning. He was just regurgitating phrases that he'd heard again and again from people talking other messed up people down from high buildings. "Just don't do it again. Not that you'll get to do it again... they'll probably take away your driving privileges now. But, that's probably in your best interest." He glanced at the other boy's mangled legs. "That looks uncomfortable. Do you need anything adjusted? You should tell them if you need something."

His words were so calm, so conversational. He could hardly believe they were coming out of his own mouth. Just hours ago he'd been flying, then falling to the centre of the earth and now... nothing. Just nothing. He was completely numb. Did this mean he was cured? He glanced at his bandaged wrists and felt nothing, no shame, no joy, nothing. When he thought about living to see tomorrow he neither looked forward to it nor dreaded it. He felt nothing at all.

[Aureolin Sky Meadows]

Aureolin closed his eyes, feeling his breathing begin to choke as tears threatened in his eyes. His blonde hair fell unevenly over his eyes, when he began to speak in hardly a whisper. "It was scary. I-I couldn't stop. I couldn't..." he began shaking, "I lost Larkin to a car crash. I loved him so much... They took him away... The drunk bastards took him away..." He was sobbing by now, "I want to go home..." his voice dropped to a whisper, "I just want to go home..." Aureolin began to tire himself, slowly nestled in the soft hospital bed. It was much more comfortable than his one at the academy, and oh, so soft... He drifted into the fuzziness of sleep a few minutes, before the boy's voice awoke him once more.

Aureolin blinked open his eyes, hazily turning to him. He examined his features, and found him to be the one he found quite attractive earlier. And that didn't change a thing. The little blonde suddenly gasped as pain as something was definitely not right. With the catheter inside of him, an arousal was quite painful. With the hurting killing off any thoughts, he didn't have to be embarrassed about anything, at least. He hid it as agony in his legs, and took Simon's advice, asking a passing nurse if she could please slower his slings. Gently, oh so gently, she had to remove his braced limbs from the slings, and lay them on the bed. He closed his eyes afterwards, letting out a breath. "I-I'm sorry" he whispered to the other boy, "I'm sorry you have to be stuck with me. I'm so scared, Simon..." He shook his head, "I don't want to lose my legs." he cried, "I can't... I can't..." 

He turned away, his thin form rising and falling with sobs under the blankets. "I have horses..." he whispered, "I need to race. I can't..." Finding it the only comfort, he began naming them off. "Iberian, and Spirit, and-and lucky, and Theo... Prince..." He didn't know why anyone listened to him anymore. He was an emotional wreck. Lost, and alone, he wanted to just go home. With his horses, and his sister, and his mother... "Loveless, and Yoda, and Queenie..." 

[Simon Patrick Gallagher]

"I'm sorry you have to be stuck with me. I'm so scared, Simon..." He shook his head, "I don't want to lose my legs." he cried, "I can't... I can't..."

Simon didn't know what to say to that. He wanted to make the other boy feel better... the tears made him mildly uncomfortable, but he didn't feel a thing. He couldn't say 'I'm sorry' because he wasn't sorry about anything. There was something wrong with him. He couldn't feel a thing. He was so used to saying what he felt when he needed to, to being able to feel honestly sympathetic to the problems of other people, genuinely swept up in their joy--- at least in the few human interactions he'd been allowed. Now he couldn't say a thing because he didn't feel a thing. It was like someone had switched out the human part of his brain with some cyborg version of a brain that took in information without reacting to any of it. It should have been upsetting, but Simon couldn't even be moved to feel afraid for himself, for the loss of his humanity. What do you say to a human being in pain when you can't feel their pain yourself? He wondered why they didn't just pull the plug. If they intended to keep him on this drug he was better off not alive at all. This wasn't living. Even sadness was more life-like than this nothingness.

Horses. The boy wanted to ride horses. He loved his horses. Simon in-putted that information and waited for the feelings to come out, sadness, sympathy, anger, anything? Just data. Data everywhere, without any emotions to give them meaning. The boy had like... ten horses. That told him what? That he loved horses? Carolyn would have said that meant he had 'rich boy problems'. She would have laughed in his face. Carolyn felt no sympathy, only contempt for other human beings. Simon didn't want to be like Carolyn. He'd never been so empty in his life. He wouldn't have even noticed the emptiness if that boy Aureo hadn't been there, begging for sympathy. Was that anger he felt? No. Not even mild irritation. He didn't care. It was disturbing how little he cared about anything. Aureo was a mild irritant because he was in pain and Simon couldn't help him. He was no longer capable of helping him. He didn't like feeling emotionally handicapped.

Aureo is a good person. He reminded himself. Being a good person meant something. It meant that he was a better person than Simon. That he didn't deserve to be there, bent and broken, probably crippled for life, or at least scarred. But, it was his fault too, wasn't it? He'd been speeding. That was stupid. He'd told Aureo that it wasn't his fault, but a voice that sounded suspiciously like his step-mother's kept telling him that it really was his fault. His subconscious was beginning to sound like Carolyn. He didn't want her anywhere near his moral centre, did he? He hated her. This had to stop, right? But, then wasn't he weaker before this? Wasn't he an overly emotional fool? Wasn't he a slave to his emotions? Emotions hurt. Why would he willingly subject himself to pain?

Better to fake it, then. He gave the boy a sympathetic look. "It's going to be all right. Don't stress yourself out."

Why wasn't he... not happy, but satisfied with this state of being? This state of non-being? Hadn't he been begging to be free of his emotions for years? Wasn't this what he wanted. He looked at his bandaged wrists and felt nothing. Mild irritation again. He should have been satisfied like this, but instead he felt like clawing out his own eyes. Now, that was an interesting image. He'd actually pictured clawing out his own eyes, and that had triggered zero emotional response. It was maddening, or it should have been. Nothing about his situation bothered him. It sounded kind of backward, but it was true--- he actually missed having things that mattered to him. This numbness was... what was it?

Boredom.

Complete boredom. He'd never been so bored in his life. The hospital could have caught on fire--- the notion this happening was almost something positive--- and his pulse wouldn't have even picked up speed. He looked at his heart monitor and then slowly, with one hand, pressed down on his newly stitched up wrist. He felt pain, physical pain, but on the heart monitor it was barely a blip. Nothing. This was worse than depression. This was purgatory.

"What the hell have you got me on?" He asked the first nurse to pass by.

"Just something for your pain and your mood."

"Great, that tells me less than nothing." He found himself growing angry with her. "Tell them to stop giving them to me. I don't want them."

"Sorry, hon. Doctor's orders."

"They're making me worse." Simon said, grinding his teeth in frustration. "They're not making me feel any better, they're making me feel worse."

"It takes a while for them to start working completely. You've got to give it time."

"I don't want to give it time. I don't want the medication." Simon said. "It's making me feel ill. I felt better without it."

"That's not my decision to make. You'll have to talk to the doctor."

"Good, then send him in."

"He's seeing other patients right now."

"Tell him I need to see him." Simon said, sinking back in exhaustion. "Just tell him I need to see him before he leaves. Tell him it's urgent."

"Okay. I'll tell him."

"Thank you." Simon didn't believe she'd tell the doctor anything. And, if she did tell him something it would be that the psych case needed more meds. He wanted to break something. It was strange, because Simon wasn't normally an angry or violent person. It was the meds. Thinking about it only made him angrier. Bored and angry. It wasn't even a proper rage. It was just a low simmering one that made him uncomfortable. Made him sick. He wanted a sedative. At least if he was sleeping he wouldn't be bored. He turned over so he wasn't facing the other boy and waited for sleep to take him, but it wouldn't come. Bored and unable to escape boredom due to insomnia. It really couldn't get any worse. He wished that his heart with stop, just to give him something to think about that wasn't painfully dull. Some pain would have been nice too. Pain sounded infinitely better than being this way.

[Aureolin Sky Meadows]

Aureolin didn't want to die. He feared death like it was a plauge. Death meant he could never see his family, or his horses, or he had any chance of getting out of the academy. He hoped one say he could follow his father's footsteps, and win the triple crown. He didn't want to die with a heavy heart. He didn't want to get his wings and join Larkin leaving so many things unsaid. 

"I'm sorry" he said softly, not caring whether the other boy was listening or not. He closed his eyes, laying limp on the bed. Aureolin took a breath, and began.

"I am sorry, Simon. I am. I hope everything gets better for you soon. I'm envious of you, you know. You sing so beautifully, and you should embrace that. If I ever got to do a duet with you, I'm sure you'd be the one  getting the roses." he paused to breathe, "I don't know if your listening, but I wish I got to know you better. I wish I had the courage to come to you. I wanted tot ell you that life is a gift, not a given right. It's a miracle we all live each day. I can only hope I did doing something I love, like my father. I've told my mother about you, how sad you seem... She said if you ever needed a place to stay over the summer, or a home, you could come back to Canada with me. I don't know if you'd want to... I just... I was too scared to tell you. I thought you'd beat me up, or bully me, like everyone else seems to do."

Aureolin looked up to the ceiling, his voice no longer a whisper. A nurse peered in to listen. "I have horses. Twelve horses, to be exact. My family rescues them, and I race as a jockey. A stupid profession, some people say. But I've always done it. My father died on the track. Twenty three feet from the finish line, and his horse fell. Twenty three feet from winning the triple crown, Simon. We could have been so much better than we were now. My mother wouldn't have had to petition all those snotty rich folk for money, we wouldn't have to sell off some of the mares..." 

The small blonde closed his eyes once more, "I think mama had to sell off Queenie and Lucky Star too, but I haven't heard yet. Lucky was one of my favorites. He was such a sweet little quarter horse... But he couldn't ride. He had a spine injury. Queenie was snappy, but she always loved us. She was Maria's favorite. We may sound well endowed, but we're struggling. Simon, I can't lose my legs. Racing is my life, how I help my family get by. Most people just don't understand..." he looked over to him, "I'm sorry I didn't have the courage to say this until now. If you... Ever want to come over during the summer... Canada isn't that cold." He whispered, "I like you, Simon. Maybe more than I should. I should have said something when I saw you so down at lunch. But, I just don't know." he fell limp against the bed tiredly.

"I've probably just annoyed you this whole time. I really am sorry. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I just wanted you to know that you're not alone, I guess. I'm just... I'm a coward." 

H ended in silence, listening to the beeping of machines, the small murmur of people around him. He felt tired once more, but didn't mind it. He had said what he needed. He just hoped he said enough.

[Simon Patrick Gallagher]

"You're not annoying me." Simon sighed, at last. "I'm just... I'm not myself right now. This medication they've got me on is screwing up my head. It's even worse than before." He was tempted to tear at his stitches just to get the doctor in there to see him. But, showing that he was a danger to himself probably wouldn't do a whole lot of good for his case to get off the meds. "And... I'm flattered that you're interested. I think you're really adorable. But... I think we should just be friends. You deserve someone better than me. I'm a fuck-up... if you haven't already noticed. And, to tell you the truth, I think I'm in love with someone else... Not that she'll ever want anything to do with me after this... but for now I think you and I would be better off just staying friends." He didn't know how to say it more nicely. Aureo was cute. Ridiculously cute, but the truth was, Simon only had eyes for Ember at the moment. He didn't know what it was about her. Maybe it was everything about her.

Stupid, right? He barely even knew her. She would, in all likelihood, want nothing to do with him when he came back with new scars. But, some part of Simon couldn't give up hoping that she might like him. He really liked her. It was stupid to be thinking of a girl in a time like this. He should have been focusing on himself right then, on getting well, or maybe getting worse. Something. But, instead he was thinking about her eyes and her lips and her perfect nose. Her eyes were hazel. Sort of greenish too. He could get lost in eyes like that, see entire universes. Even her scars were beautiful. She wasn't like other people who either wore their pain on the inside, or were just unmarked by life. People who let themselves be marked, who let their pains be broadcast to the world were braver than the people who soldiered on in silence. At the very least, that was Simon's opinion. They were brave because they let the world see who they were, where they'd been.

Life really began after your first cut. Before then you were baby smooth, soulless, painless, without history. Then, something happened to you, maybe birth trauma, maybe a childhood fall, and you became marked for the first time. Your body began to bear the signs of your struggle and tell the story of your journey. And, some people hated those marks. They covered them up with creams and long sleeves. But, Simon was of the opinion that you should wear your scars boldly. Let the world make it's impression on you, and go out and impression the world.

It was funny how much Simon could say about living life, when he was a prime example of how not to live it. He wore his heart upon his sleeve. Where had that gotten him? Here. That's where. Emotionally dead, physically mangled. Exhausted beyond belief. But, somehow, it was better than being nothing at all. He knew, because he'd been nothing at all once. A long time ago, before the abuse, the shame, the hatred. He'd been a little no where boy without a mother and without a story. He'd read stories and watched films about people who did extraordinary things. They were invariably scarred. They'd lost someone, maybe they'd lost everyone, they'd done something they regretted, they'd not done something and regretted it, all of their pains and sufferings of the past, their continuing suffering compelled them to do something more. Made them seek to be more than just sad people.

He'd been scarred, but he'd not made anything of them. He'd added new scars, but not new stories. He was bored. So bored. Maybe that was why he always wanted to die. There was no excitement left in the world. No, when he thought about it, his life was too full of emotion to be a bore. Emotions could make even the least significant things seem like mountains to climb, or fall from. This boredom was a new thing. A terrible thing. Something bad was better than nothing at all.

His mind was running around in circles. His whole mind was made up of a couple of concentric circles. He usually orbited on an ellipse--- that was emotion the far side and the near side--- but today it was all a circle. Circles circles circles. His entire life was beginning to seem like one endless circle. He couldn't live like this. He'd rather be dead than so bored. He'd never been so bored in his life. He was going to die of acute boredom. At least dying would be something to do.

"I just wanted you to know that you're not alone, I guess. I'm just... I'm a coward." It was a nice sentiment. A really nice sentiment, but Simon couldn't believe it. He was so very alone. He'd never been so alone in his life.

Say something. Say something nice. "You're not a coward. You're a human. Humans feel fear." Not as nice as he'd intended, but true. Humans did feel fear. Was there ever a truer truism? He didn't know what to say. How do you comfort a person in pain, a person who is afraid, when you can feel neither fear nor pain yourself. It was like the medication, it's numbness, not only robbed him of emotions now but was working as a sort of eraser of his emotions past. He realized with a little thrill, but not enough of one to really feel it, that he couldn't remember what it felt like to feel fear, though he must have felt it only hours ago. What was it doing to him? He didn't want to be erased. Not alive, anyway. He should have been afraid, but instead he was angry. He hated being angry, and thinking about being angry made him angrier. "Don't beat yourself up for it."