Date: Fri, 12 Sep 2008 19:02:08 -0400
From: twe a <genericboy000@live.com>
Subject: Spencer's New Life: Chapter 2.1: In Sickness

This story is for Nifty.  If you want it too.  Email me.
Of course none of this is real and of course none of this refers to
anyone.


Title: Spencer's New Life
Chapter: 2.1 - In Sickness


*This section of the chapter does not have any "love" that would need to be
cleaned up in it.  2.2 will, I promise.



Night
Oh my god he wanted to die.  He coughed again sending spikes of pain
down his throat.  Was this ever
going to end?  He'd had his temperature taken so many times he'd given
up counting.  He silently wished
his mom used those butt thermometers.  He thought about it more, and
decided that it would be actually
creepy as all hell to have his mom stick something in his butt and was
thankful for the oral version.  His
bed was too hot, -now it's freezing.  He didn't know what time it was.
He really didn't care.  His body
hurt, ached, and screamed whenever he shifted.  His brain protested
any thought with a feeling that
somewhat resembled a jackhammer on his skull.  Bad.  Bed.  Sleep.

Day
A knock at the door.  His mother, she wouldn't leave him alone; she
hadn't even waited for him to call her
in.  He really didn't know if he even could have.  All he wanted was
to lay there.  Or just die.  Either one,
just so the pain stopped.  She was gone, he hadn't noticed.  The door
hadn't even moved.  Was he going
crazy?  Probably.  No one should be tormented like this. God he was
thirsty.  Picked up a glass of water he
somehow knew was by his lamp.  Ugh, warm.  He was roasting hot again.
Dreamt about his mom in a
hippopotamus cage.  Rest.

Night
Cell phone rang.  He decided to answer it.  Picked it up, but it
wasn't ringing anymore.  Missed call: 3
hours ago.  What?  Who the...  More sleep.

Day
The room was different.  Where was he?  Everything was white.
Everyone was in white.  Was he dead?
What a rip off, now he's dead and his head still hurt.  Comedy hurt,
laughing hurt. Woman in a white hat.
Went out again.

Night
His eyes opened.  His vision focused.  He was in a hospital.  There
were gifts everywhere.  How the hell
long had he been here?  And who had eaten his fucking candy!  Who eats
a sick person's candy!  He
tugged one of the balloons down to see what it said.  Get well soon.
Was he still sick?  He felt alright.
	"Hey! Hey!"  He heard from the other side of the presents.
He raised himself up quickly to see past the piles of junk.  There was
a sharp pain in his left arm.  He
looked over; an IV in him.  Why?  The room spun, everything went
black. Thud.

Morning
He opened his eyes again.  He tried to touch his head to feel the huge
bump from when he passed out; but he
couldn't.  He looked down, his arms were bound to the cot he lay on.
You're kidding.  Where am I? - in the psych ward?
	"Hello?" he asked.
No response.  He pulled his non-IV'd arm hard.  He had too little
strength.  He looked at his left, shuttered
at the needle laying in his arm, and traced the line up to a hanging
bag of fluid.  The bag was labeled 'INN'
and had one of those parts that dripped slowly.
He found his call nurse button and pressed it.  She came in quietly
and he asked her to take of the straps,
which she did.  She watched him lean up carefully.  He weakly smiled
at her.  Satisfied, she glanced at the
monitors next to him and left.
He looked around.  Stuffed bears, balloons, cards, shoes?, whatever;
candy.  There was what looked like
a pile of coats in the corner, piled on a chair.  The blob heaved
slowly.

	"Umm... Hello?" he said more loudly this time.
The mass twitched and began shedding layers.  It was like watching an
unkempt caterpillar come out of a
dirty cocoon.  ...why was he allowed to think up analogies?
The figure rose up its head and looked around groggily.  Spencer
stared at its defined muscles through the
thin undershirt that it wore and thought he felt the hospital gown he
was wearing feel suddenly become tighter.
That is if he could feel anything at all with that stuff dripping into
him.  The figure focused its gaze on him and
its eyes doubled in size.
	"Spencer!  You're up a- awake oh Christ!" Tony nearly knocked
the chair backwards as he
physically clambered over the more than likely expensive medical
equipment.
	"How do you feel?  Are you ok?  Does your head hurt?" Tony shot
out questions faster than his
mouth could keep up until he had started to produce a constant slur of
vowels.
	"Mmmhmm" Spencer hummed, "I feel fine, but I think that this
thing in my arm is helping with
that."
	"Oh yeah, the morphine.  Well do you want anything?  Need
anything?"
Spencer looked around, looked at Tony, and looked down at his bed.  He
thought long and hard while
Tony waited patiently, ready to jump at Spencer's slightest whim.
       Spencer looked back at Tony and blushed. "Umm well I have a
question..."
	"Oh, What? Just ask."
	"...What... day... is it?" Spencer mumbled.
	"It's Tuesday...  The 12th."
	"And...  When was it that I got like this?
	"Well you've been in the hospital for 9 days; you were out at
your house for 3, so you've not
really been conscious for about 12 days."
	"Wow, I see.  That's a long time huh."

Spencer asked him a few other little questions.  Who had brought all
the gifts, what that nurse's name was,
why they had bound him down to the stretcher, etc.

The conversation subsided and Tony smiled at him, staring into
Spencer's perfectly blue eyes.  He tussled that thin blonde hair that
hung so perfectly from his head, then slowly leaned in and kissed the
boy softly on the lips while his hand
cradled the small boy's head.  He stayed there, enjoying the feeling
that his friend was alright.  Tony
broke the kiss, but stayed close to Spencer's face.
He looked back into the eyes of the boy wonder, searching for some
words to explain why he had spent
the last twelve days at Spencer's side.  He knew he would have nothing
to say to Spencer's family, what
could he.  Tony loved him, he had decided, and he didn't want to lie
about it.  Somehow that would make it less pure, or true in his mind.
Spencer smiled weakly.  Tony's loving gaze being met by only the
confused face Spencer wore.

       His face turned red, "Can I ask you something else?"

Tony was snapped back to reality by this blunt question.  He chuckled
to himself, 'God, Spencer
probably has no idea what's going and I'm thinking about love and what
I should do.'.  He smiled again.

	"Anything you need to know, I'm here for you."

       Spencer stared at him, "Umm...  W-who are you?"





Preview of 2.2

       Tony lay in bed, pondering what to do, how to proceed.  It was
dark out, and the air was cool.  He stared through the window above
his bed, out to the stars.  He watched them twinkle; hoping they were
saying everything was going to be ok.  Hoping they weren't just
judging him too.
       He could still smell the boy on him.  He thought his mother had
noticed on the way in, but he had just ignored her and went to his
bed.  She knew this meant that it was something that Tony had to deal
with by himself.  He was safe in the silence.  He could think in the
silence.
       The questions crept back into his brain: should he tell anyone?
Would anyone listen?  Or care?  Would his mother care?  Would his Dad?
...Yes... He knew the answer to that one... It didn't help though.  He shut
his eyes and breathed in deeply.  He exhaled slowly, attempting to
organize his thoughts and think about what was important.
       What about Spencer?  If Tony was doing this, if he was the
problem, he's making Spencer suffer...  He couldn't let that happen.  He
wouldn't.  He had to end it, for Spencer's sake.  The boy deserves a
good life, and if it can't be with him, so be it.

A single tear rolled down Tony's cheek.

C'est la vie.





Sorry it's short; I'm going home for the weekend.  I'll get back to it
in a couple of days.

Peace,
Kraark

genericboy000@live.com