Date: Sat, 30 Mar 2002 01:35:45 +0000 (GMT) From: Harry Sheppard <harry@infinitycove.com> Subject: Pulse (T/T nosex) PULSE (T/T nosex) A short story based on true events. By Harry Sheppard <harry@infinitycove.com> Author's Note: Having dredged through my old school and uni files a couple of days back, I found this scrawled on a few pages in the back of one of my Geography folders. I can remember writing it during a sweltering lesson about glacial action (plucking, abrasion etc) as I was still in shock after a close friend of mine had been hit by a car. Thankfully, he pulled through and is now fine, but at that stage I had to get the hurt out of me somehow. I was also kinda screwed up about the whole 'Who am I?' thing, and it seems to show in the writing. I've re-written it a little to make it a little less clunky, but other than that it's how I originally wrote it. It's short, but hey - it was only an 80-minute period! Sickly, I know, but I was an idealistic teenager :-P --H. Drew sat slumped in the rather uncomfortable chair that had been so graciously provided by the hospital's intensive care ward. He was tired, having been there for almost eighteen hours straight. He'd slumped so low in the chair, in fact, that his neck was level with it's back making it almost difficult to breathe, but he wasn't bothered. BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... The monitoring equipment that he was sat between hummed quietly to itself, emitting an unsettlingly slow, slightly irregular beep in time to his friend Jamie's heart beat. Silence. Drew was suddenly very wide awake, but just as had happened twenty or so times previously: BEEPBEEP BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... He exhaled strongly and rubbed his eyes. Damn he was tired, but he just had to stay. "You look like shit, man," he said to his unconscious friend. A second or so later, he smiled weakly at an anticipated retort that under better circumstances would've inevitably been returned. Instead, all he received was a reciprocating hiss from the ventilator. The truck that had hit the car just moments after Jamie had dropped Drew off at the side of the road was going way too fast. Unfortunately for Jamie, the truck that his car was pushed in front of was speeding also, sending the vehicle a good ten feet into the air, over a hedge and head-first into a ditch. For Drew, those few seconds felt like hours. He could remember running down the pavement, waving his hands like a madman trying to attract Jamie's attention as the truck barrelled past him, wheels locked. He could still smell the stench of rubber as it was torn from the lorry's tyres. He could remember vividly the sickening crunch that followed sent Jamie's car flying out from the junction into the path of the traffic on the main road. The astonishingly loud bang as the other truck hit him side on. The silence. BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... Drew had known Jamie since forever. Their respective mothers had adjacent beds in the very hospital they were in now and, setting the precedent that was to shape their friendship, Jamie introduced himself to the world thirty-seven and a half hours ahead of Drew. They lived across the street from one another. They played together. They went to the same nursery and primary school. They became best friends. They liked football, sherbet fountains, small furry animals and anything that was expressly forbidden by their parents. Where Jamie went, Drew would inevitably follow. What Jamie liked, Drew liked. Not necessarily because he wanted to emulate his friend, more that if he shared things with Jamie, the happier it made him. Time passed. They grew. As they entered their teens, they continued to share. Feelings. Private thoughts. Sex. They taught each other, through experimentation, what felt good to the other. And then Jamie discovered girls. And then, more importantly, Jamie discovered _A_ girl. Drew was devastated. The time they spent together began to drop, and of that time Drew felt it was somehow less enjoyable. He felt he was losing touch with his friend. But then Jamie was dumped. And suddenly everything was back to normal. They hung out. They laughed and joked again. Time passed. They grew. Jamie's extroverted character stood him in good stead. Twinned with his mild freckles and dashing, cheeky smile, he found that he could usually get his own way with peers, adults and the opposite sex. Drew, on the other hand, had spent so much time looking up to Jamie he'd almost forgotten himself, becoming introverted and quiet. As this went on, Drew felt himself being pushed into a defensive posture. He felt overshadowed by his best friend and began to brood over his feelings. He knew he was subordinate to Jamie, but he actually quite liked that he was needed and he had a place. But the more that Jamie made new friends, went out with girls and generally enjoyed life, the more diluted Drew's felt. "What?" "Nothing." "Bullshit!" "Huh?" "You're getting more weird by the day, man, I swear!" grinned Jamie. "Whatever it is, you can tell me." Drew didn't reply. "Come on, man you can tell me anything!" "It's... um... personal." "What's her name?" "Who?" "Your girlfriend! Only a girl could do this to you!" "Oh, yeah" "So...? You gonna tell me or not?" "I don't have a girlfriend." "Whatever, man. Just remember you've been there enough for me. 'Bout time I returned the favour, eh?" "Well, it's kinda diffic..." "Shit, we're here jump out, mate I'll go park the car back in a couple of minutes." Crunch. Bang. BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... Drew stormed out of the ward in frustration. He then turned round, stormed back in again and hurled himself back into the chair and cried. The one person he cared about most in the world, the one person with whom he would have most dearly loved to share his deepest secret, was teetering on the brink. He should have told him earlier. But what if he'd turned out to be a homophobe? But then again he couldn't go on lying. But he couldn't bare to lose Jamie as a friend. He couldn't bare to lose Jamie at all... BEEPBEEP BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... SHIT! Even when he was unconscious that kid could still scare the living daylights out of him. The doctors had told him that talking to Jamie was probably the best way of stimulating his brain and a known voice - that of a close friend or relative. Drew was never a big talker, preferring to listen and supply concise, accurate responses when required. Now it seemed he would have to break the trend of a lifetime. And so he talked. And talked. He found himself talking about a lot of things he would never have talked about with Jamie before. He told him how infuriating he found his depreciation whenever there was a girl on the scene. How grateful he was when she'd gone. He talked about his parents. His dog. Even how the mole he had on the inside of his left thigh annoyed him for no apparent reason. And he told Jamie that he didn't want to lose him. How horrified he was when he saw the lorry come tearing past him. How helpless he felt trying to attract Jamie's attention so he could get out of the lorry's path. How, if he died, Drew would never get the chance to somehow tell him that he loved him. Not just platonically, but really loved him. How handsome he was, and how the way his smile made Drew feel like the happiest guy in the world. BEEP... BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP The hand he was holding squeezed back. "I love you too," said Jamie. ---END