I left a bit after.
Not because I wanted to. Because I had somewhere I needed to be. The doctor from room seven was waiting.
The tests took hours and by the time I stepped out of the room, the hallway was quieter.
Rei was standing outside Marco’s room.
He looked up when he heard my footsteps.
His face was different than before and he gave me a weird look. “He’s… asking for you.”
I released a breath, feeling air in my lungs. That means he woke up.
I went inside immediately. I opened the door and saw him.
He looked weak.
That was the first thing I registered. His face was pale. More pale than I had ever seen it. The olive tone of his skin had drained to something closer to grey. His arms were thin on the sheets, the IV line running into one wrist, the tape holding it in place the same shade as his skin.
But his eyes were open.
And he was crying.
Wait, why the hell was he crying?
“Alexei…”
I reached the side of the bed and caught his hand. “What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying? Does it hurt?”
He shook his head. “Alexei,” his voice cracked on my name, “Please take me home. Okay?”
He cried harder. “Mom said I have to stay here,” he whispered. “I don’t want to. Alexei, please. Please take me home.”
He was begging.
The word please came out of him over and over, each repetition more desperate than the last. “Please. Please. Please take me home.”
I crawled onto the bed, adjusting my weight so that I wouldn’t disturb the IV or the monitors, then I wrapped my arms around him.
His face pressed into my neck. His tears soaked into my collar. His body was curled into mine, like it was trying to crawl inside me and hide from the world that was trying to kill it.
“You need to, baby,” I whispered against his hair. “The doctors need to watch over you.”
He cried harder. “Please,” he said, his voice breaking into pieces against my throat. “I don’t want to die here. Please. Please. Please.”
He begged.
And begged.
And begged.
Please take me home.
Please don’t let me die here.
Please.
I don’t want to die here.