Awesome Title of Awesome

[ichbin_preussen]

Who: Francis and Gilbert
Where: A local bar..
When: Two weeks after previous log
What: Drinking and AAAAANGST.
Can other people participate: Sure
Summary: Francis and Gil meeting up for drinks, nearly two weeks after their last time hanging out ended on a sour note.

Comments

Continuation..

[ichbin_preussen]

Gilbert took the turn too hard and overcorrected, jerking the bike when he should have leaned with it, let his knee skim the pavement and righted it coming out of the turn. A talented, sober biker could have done that. Drunk, the mistake pitched the bike sideways. Sober, Gilbert knew how to tuck himself inward, how to fight the instinct to put his hands out to break his fall. Drunk, said instinct took over but too slowly, so that when his hand hit the ground, pavement shredding his jacket and scraping from palm to elbow raw, all six hundred pounds of streetbike was already falling on him. The landing snapped his wrist; the bike slammed him into the blacktop, cracking his collarbone and three ribs in the process.

He landed face-down, half in the ditch and half in the road, having bounced off and slid across the wet ground nearly ten feet from where he’d first gone down. The bike itself rolled and slid fifteen feet away and stopped in the middle of the road. If it had gone in the ditch as well, it could have taken hours for someone to find him, and by that time, he would have bled to death on the side of the road.

In an inadvertent way, both Francis and the bike saved his life. If Francis had shown up later, chances were smaller that anyone would have been traveling down that road. It took ten minutes for another car to come along, for its headlights to catch his boots and left pants leg - the only part in the road - as it pulled to a stop and both driver and passenger got out.

[beau_bonnefoy]

Francis didn't know how long he stood in the middle of the parking lot like that. Time really didn't matter anyway. Not when it was just starting to sink in that he finally had the one person he'd been pining for, who had haunted his dreams and although he didn't realise it--the person who was the source of his inability to commit to any relationship. And in the process of this, he lost his best friend. No, best friend wasn't even the appropriate term. It was something more, Francis knew that, even if he didn't know how to define it.

He couldn't remember a time before Gilbert. The few years before their friendship were a complete blur. Francis couldn't remember exactly how they met, but just that he was always there, attached to his hip. Always playing together, always getting in trouble together. It was safe to say Gilbert was one of the most influential people in Francis's life. He had his beer with him. Before then, Francis had only had the wine his parents served with dinner. He shoplifted for the first time with Gilbert. Even if it was just a useless keychain with profanity written on it, the thrill was exhilarating and he'd had so much fun. And Gilbert was the first boy who ever kissed him. Who ever did anything with him. Had that never happened, Francis might not have even considered being with anyone aside from girls.

Gilbert was everything. And now, he was nothing. Gone from his life and never wanted to see Francis again.

For once, Francis didn't worry about how getting in his car soaking wet would mess up his upholstery. Instead, after getting his car unlocked he got in, set the helmet in the passenger seat and pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to the university. Gilbert might be there...if not now, soon. But just in case he called Gilbert's cell phone as he drove. He wasn't expecting an answer but it wouldn't hurt to try...

[ichbin_preussen]

Gilbert's jacket couldn't hold up to skidding across blacktop at 80mph, but it did a fine job saving his cellphone. The slim black Motorola stayed safe, zipped up in the inner chest pocket of his jacket, even when he was bouncing his face off the wet ground, gashing his chin open and getting a wicked case of road burn up the right side of his face.

When Francis called, no one but Gilbert noticed the phone ringing. He came awake briefly, in horrible pain, while the paramedics were loading him onto a stretcher, watched the flash of blue and red lights highlighting the water standing on the ground, heard hurried voices surrounding him but couldn't focus on any of them well enough to figure out what they were saying. His ringtone was really just another noise among the voices and sirens; he understood what that sound was no better than he understood the paramedics were talking about calling a life flight for him. He thought briefly about his bike, if someone would think to pick it up, then closed his eyes and thought nothing at all, gone again, away from the noise and pain.

In the end Gilbert stayed in the ambulance for his trip to the hospital. The paramedics got him stabilized enough for the fifteen minute trip and kept working on him, keeping pressure on the worst of his wounds and carefully monitoring his shallow breathing. They were certain he had a concussion but worried about hemorrhaging in his brain, cerebral edema, internal bleeding, any number of things Gilbert should have rightfully suffered after such a horrible crash without a helmet.

All three of the men working to keep him alive agreed that right now, it was a miracle the boy had survived.

An hour later, the ICU doctor and nurses performing Gilbert's MRI agreed, but not as enthusiastically - save for that brief lucid moment while the paramedics were picking him up, Gilbert never regained consciousness. Through all the moving and shifting and the various groups of people rushing around him, cleaning and suturing injuries, he never so much as twitched.

The nurse placed in charge of contacting his family wasn't going to mention this of course. Thanks to the student ID card found in Gilbert's wallet, she managed to obtain his emergency contact information and with that, his brother's phone number. The second number was of no relation and the third long distance, to his family in Germany. So it was the former who got the first phone call.

[beau_bonnefoy]

Francis closed his phone when Gilbert's obnoxious voicemail message started. He'd never been too keen on voicemail, and who knew if Gilbert even checked it. So he set his phone in his lap and focused on driving back to campus. Focusing on how the windshield wipers cleared off the rain, how the streetlights were blurred from the rain. How there was a hole somewhere in the roof of his car and his cheeks were now soaked.

After a silent drive back to campus that seemingly took an eternity, he pulled into the parking lot by his dorm. On the way there he hadn't seen Gilbert's back in its usual spot. Maybe he parked it somewhere else. Or he just wasn't back yet. Francis was worried, yes, but there wasn't really anything he could do. Gilbert was probably fine anyway. Probably came back to the bar after Francis left and went back to the bartender or something. He hoped that's what happened anyway.

He stayed sitting in his car for a long time after he parked and turned the car off. He looked down at his phone and picked it up again. Redialed. Nothing. He wondered idly if he should go to Gilbert's dorm and see if he could talk to Ludwig about this. Ludwig would start stressing and if it turned out Gilbert was alright all along, that would only cause more problems.

So he resolved to just go up to his room and see if he could get in touch with Gilbert on his own. No need to cause more needless drama when enough to last a lifetime had just occurred in a little over an hour.

[deutsch_bitte]

Shifting his umbrella to his left hand, Ludwig reached for his phone as it vibrated in his pocket. He almost hadn't brought it with him to the library at all since it was Friday evening and everyone would be out already, but maybe he had just been too hopeful--there were only a few people who would call anyway. After a quick battle in his head to hang up or answer on the unknown number calling, he flipped the phone open. A woman answered, her voice calm and asking for him and for a moment Ludwig thought someone was playing a joke on him. But after he confirmed his identity and she began to tell him why she was calling, everything else drained from his mind. All he could think was that Gilbert was hurt.

The woman was speaking slowly, but she was using a lot of long, medical terms that Ludwig had only heard in passing if at all. He wanted to stop and ask her exactly what had happened or to find someone who could tell him in German what exactly was wrong with his brother, but his tongue was stuck in his throat. Taking a few deep breaths, he managed to tell her that he and Gilbert were students from Germany, that no, their parents were not here with them, and that yes, he would be there as soon as he could. After a few more, entirely unnecessary and wasted moments, he was able to convince the woman--nurse--that he was fine, he hung up.

Staring down at his phone as its light faded, the panic began to settle in. Gilbert was in the hospital. He'd been in an accident on his bike without his helmet. That was bad, very bad, and Ludwig couldn't stop thinking about the worst. Any minute his brother could die, he could already be beyond saving. Ludwig had to get there. Maybe if he did there would be something he could do, although he doubted that they would even let him see his brother for very long. But he had no car.

Normally he would just take the bus but he'd left his bus pass sitting on his desk along with all his pocket change and that was all the way on the other side of campus--he didn't have time for that. There had to be someone he could get a ride from, someone who wouldn't mind taking time out of their Friday night for Gilbert. He glanced up at the dorm to his left, the Franz Joseph building, and then he had it. Francis.

He scrolled through his phone book as fast as he could to get to his number as he began to run toward the building's entrance. In the back of his mind, he appreciated that the doors were still unlocked as he ran through them. The phone was still ringing as he raced up the stairs to knock loudly on Francis' door.

[beau_bonnefoy]

Once in his room, nothing Francis did made him comfortable. He sat on his desk chair, but being so restless he took to pacing the small dorm room. His wet shirt clung to him too much so he peeled it off and tossed it on the floor. He sat on his bed. Laid on his back. Laid on his side. Tossed and turned, all the while calling Gilbert's cellphone.

He knew he was being stupid, worrying over Gilbert so much. The other man was probably perfectly fine. Probably at some other bar. Or back at the one they had both just left. Maybe he was back behind the counter, on his knees--

No, he wasn't going to think about that. Sighing, he slid off of his bed and sat on the floor, leaning back against it. He slid his cellphone across the floor and ran a hand through his now quite tangled hair. If Gilbert wasn't going to answer his phone after at least fifteen calls, he probably wasn't going to at all.

Francis sat there for a long moment. Or at least it felt that way. When the screen of his phone lit up, accompanied by his ringtone--la Marseillaise, of course--he scrambled over and grabbed it, thinking Gilbert was calling back.

But it wasn't Gilbert's number. A cellphone, and by the similarities of the phone numbers, perhaps the same carrier, he could tell, but it was one not programmed into his phone.

Right when he went to answer it, there was a startling banging on his door, which caused him to drop his phone.

Getting up, he walked over and answered. The person on the other side was much taller than what he was expecting. Much more muscular. Much more blond.

"Ludwig...?"

Even without knowing why his best friend's younger brother was at his doorstep, just the fact he was there and looked blatantly distressed was enough to make his blood run cold.

The German never went out of his way to see him. Non, this wasn't good at all...

[deutsch_bitte]

Standing outside Francis' door for the unimaginably long seconds it took for him to answer, Ludwig began to question his decision. It would have been much easier to have gone back to his dorm and gotten his bus pass. He wouldn't have to take the time to explain this to anyone, especially not to Francis, at least not until later. He and Francis weren't on the best of terms, as Ludwig really did not appreciate all the sexual advances, but Francis was one of Gilbert's best friends and Ludwig would make sure to tell all of them what had happened. It would be easier to do over the phone, after he'd had time to compose himself, to ascertain Gilbert's condition in its entirety. But Francis was already opening his door and Ludwig couldn't change his mind now.

"Francis!" Ludwig said, wincing at the level of his own voice. He took a deep breath, mentally berating himself for being so unprepared. The best thing he could do for Gilbert at this point was to be as calm and in the right mind to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. That was all that was important. If he could just tell Francis everything quickly and concisely, they could be at the hospital in ten minutes.

Ludwig started over. "Francis," his voice was still too loud and demanding, but that would have to do, "could you drive me to the hospital? Th-they called me and--" he had to stop and look at his shoes to gather the strength to say it out loud, "Gilbert was in an accident. Please, I need to be there for him." He stood there waiting for Francis' answer, hands fisted so tight his nails were biting into his palms.

[beau_bonnefoy]

Had Ludwig been the type to jest, Francis would have forced himself to laugh and tell him how unfunny that was. But in all his years of knowing the younger blond, Francis never came upon anything to indicate that Ludwig had a sense of humour.

And just looking at him, Francis knew what Ludwig said was true. Gilbert had been in an accident. A sense of overwhelming guilt came over him. This was his fault. He should have done something. Grabbed his keys. Forced him to take a cab. To stop drinking. Fuck, if he had noticed how Gilbert felt about him to begin with, none of this would have happened. But it was too late. Gilbert's blood was on his hands and he could almost physically see it.

"He...he..." Despite being unable to speak, Francis suddenly felt detached and unnervingly calm. He needed to get Ludwig to the hospital. So he needed to stay collected and worry about the hows later. "Alright." He grabbed his keys and driver's license off of his desk and stepped into the hallway, closing and locking the door behind him.

The trip from there to his car seemed to take far too long, although he was all but running. When he got to his car, he didn't look to see if Ludwig was still with, but only because getting the car unlocked was a priority. Ludwig could easily keep up with him easily anyway.

When he opened his car door and saw Gilbert's helmet sitting in the front passenger's seat, he felt sick all over again. He quickly moved it to the backseat and waited for Ludwig to get in before pulling out of the parking lot.

[deutsch_bitte]

Ludwig was grateful for Francis' silence; he suspected he would have lost all control if he had been forced to talk more or worse, deal with Francis' emotions on top of his own. However, the silence as they walked was intimidating. All the thoughts and fears floating around in his head were causing him to panic even as he tried to sort them out. New concerns were developing past the current situation. What would their parents do? What would happen if there was serious damage, physical or mental? What would Gilbert do about his classes? What would Ludwig do about classes if he wanted to stay with Gilbert as much as possible? How was he supposed to explain this to others? What if Gilbert never woke up?

Time and distance seemed to pass faster than ever as Ludwig mindlessly kept pace with Francis. It barely registered how fast they were walking or where they were going. Ludwig even walked past Francis' car at first, completely wrapped up in his thoughts. Getting into the car and buckling his seat belt, Ludwig explained the directions to the hospital in case Francis didn't know.

As the car started and Francis began to drive, Ludwig found his thoughts evening out, coming into uneasy, terrified order. Each individual path of events that could happen became clear in his mind, at least where he himself was concerned. All that was certain in all instances was that he would be there for Gilbert no matter what.

[beau_bonnefoy]

Francis knew the directions to the hospital quite well. Not that he had ever had to go there often. The hospital in question was simply on the way to the house he lived in with his parents before they moved back to France two years ago. Ludwig explaining the directions worked well with getting his mind focused on getting to the hospital and off of all of the unpleasant thoughts that came with hearing such tragic news after the lovely evening he had.

Once he got off campus, he was so focused on getting to the hospital as quickly as possible that he didn't realise he was going twenty over the speed limit at first. Once he noticed, he slowed down. It would be stupid to get in a car accident while on the way to the hospital to see someone who just got in an accident.

It wasn't long before he pulled into the hospital parking lot and found an open space close to the emergency room. After parking the car, he sat where he was for a moment, and took a deep breath before glancing over at Ludwig and speaking for the first time since they left campus. "He's going to be fine, Ludwig." He didn't know how bad of a condition Gilbert was in, but he had to hope. And so did Ludwig.

Taking the keys out of ignition, he got out and locked the car. He walked in with Ludwig, and something about the waiting room itself made everything worse. This was real. He wasn't sleeping off too much drama in his room. He was in the hospital. And his best friend could be dying...

As much as he wanted to run up to the nurse's desk and demand to see Gilbert and to know how he was doing, he remembered that in the eyes of the medical field, he was insignificant. Simply a best friend, that has no weight in the matters of anything concerning Gilbert. So he stood back a bit and let Ludwig handle it.

isuckisuckisucki'msorry ;~; also i still have no idea how hospitals work.

[deutsch_bitte]

Ludwig hadn't noticed the car had stopped until Francis spoke, and even then Francis' words barely registered. Had he been in any other state of mind he might have yelled at Francis, tried to make him understand that this was more serious than any reassurance like that could handle, that the nurse on the phone had said there was head damage and that he might not ever recover and a great many other things Ludwig had not been able to understand. As it was, he could barely manage a grunt in response as he muscled his door open, slamming it unnecessarily hard behind him.

The trek through the parking lot toward the doors seemed to take too long, his legs couldn't carry him fast enough, and yet it was over before he could really acknowledge it. Inside there were people, a lot of them, all sick or hurt or worried or upset, but Ludwig barely saw them, focusing on the desk where there had to be some order left, something that still functioned efficiently and as it should. And he was right, the nurse there told him exactly where his brother was and exactly where he could wait to see him, that only after Gilbert was in a stable condition he would be allowed to see him, that no, he could not even see him if the doctors thought things were turning for the worst, it was hospital protocol. And that was it.

He thanked the nurse, maybe too forcefully, as he was ushered off in the direction of a private waiting. He wasn't sure if Francis was following, if he was allowed to follow, but he didn't have time to think about it. There was a room somewhere in this direction that would bring him closer to seeing his brother again and he had to get there. Once there, maybe everything would make sense again.

[beau_bonnefoy]

Francis fidgeted while Ludwig talked to the nurse. He tried listening in to what was being said, but he had situated himself a little too far away from that. Even if he could have heard, in his current state of mine, he couldn't hear much past his own thoughts. When he noticed Ludwig started walking again, he followed. He wasn't sure what the hospital policies were exactly. He knew he wouldn't be able to see Gilbert, especially in his current condition, but no one stopped him from following Ludwig into the private waiting room, so that was good enough for now.

This room was significantly smaller than the main ER waiting room. But at least this one was not crammed with people. In fact, the only other person in the room was the taller blond. It also looked much more sterile, like if Francis chose to sit down in one of the chairs rather than pacing the opposite end of the room than Ludwig was, he wouldn't catch any diseases.

There was no way he'd be sitting any time soon though. His mind was racing, heart pounding, and his hands were shaking. And Ludwig was in worse condition. Francis would never be able to understand the close brotherly relationship between the Germans, being an only child, but the distress was apparent and that ate at him too. This was his fault, as he could have done so much to prevent this from ever occurring.

And. Ludwig had a right to know what happened. Not all of it, because a lot of that was quite personal, but he couldn't not tell him anything...

"Ludwig," Francis spoke in a low tone he could trust not to break. It should carry across the quiet room anyway. "He didn't have his helmet. ...I was going to give it to him, but he was already gone...so it's in my car."

So much for trying to stay positive. Now that he's said that out loud and to Ludwig, it emphasizes the seriousness of Gilbert's injuries. But Ludwig needed to know that, right? It was too late now to for Francis to convince himself otherwise.

[deutsch_bitte]

Once they reached the secluded waiting area, Ludwig stared at the comfortable looking chairs spread around. He would have sat down to better focus on his thoughts, but he had too much energy. Instead, he began to pace, keeping his track to a few columns of tiles on the floor. It would have worked to keep him occupied, but he stopped every third lap to look at his watch or his cellphone. Every minute that passed without word from the doctor caused Ludwig's heart and hopes to sink further. He knew statistically that every second lost was a second less likely that Gilbert would come out of this alive. And if Gilbert did not make it--

Ludwig had to talk to someone. He knew that Francis was there, watching him from the other side of the room, but Francis already knew what was happening--what could happen any second. Ludwig still had not called their parents, who deserved to know for more reasons than that they were most likely going to be paying the bill. Just as Ludwig was looking around for any sign indicating where it was appropriate to use his phone, he heard Francis speak up.

The words sunk in slowly, true meaning following a few seconds behind. Gilbert had been out on his bike without his helmet. In the rain. At night. Ludwig had known Gilbert to do stupid things before, but this seemed far crazier than anything, than everything. And Francis had known the whole time, the whole evening, that Gilbert was in danger and yet Ludwig had found him in his dorm room just as if it were any other night. Before he even realized it, he was across the room, pulling Francis towards him by the front of his shirt and shaking him roughly.

"How could you do that?! It's dangerous--it's against the law! This is Gilbert, he probably--" went out drinking, "--treated the roads just the same as he would have in normal conditions and you just didn't take his helmet to him?!" Ludwig's voice caught in his throat and he realized he had been yelling. He ground his teeth together to keep from getting too loud again, but it did nothing to mask the seething tone of his voice. "He's my brother. I know he trusted you. And you just-- just--" He bit off his sentence, tightening his fists in Francis' shirt.

lol i'll science next time

[ichbin_preussen]

The doors from the main waiting area leading back towards the emergency ICU area were of the sort that swung open when pushed and drifted back shut silently, never actually latching on anything. This, perhaps, was why no noise announcing a doctor's arrival interrupted the argument at hand. He assumed it was an argument - he only arrived at the tail end of the conversation, just soon enough to catch that bit about not having a helmet.

He didn't need these two shouting about it to figure that one out, or which patient they were here to see. Gilbert was extremely lucky to have survived such an accident without the proper headgear. It was too early yet to tell if there would be any lasting effects mentally, but aside from a vicious concussion, everything upstairs appeared to be functioning normally. So said his papers. You couldn't tell that just by looking at the sleeping student the doctor had just left. The kid had road rash up one side of his face and stitches in his chin, for starters, like he'd been dragged from one side of the road to the other on his face.

But if this went on any longer these two would probably end up admitted right alongside their friend. The doctor cleared his throat pointedly. "Gentlemen. I'm looking for a..." A brief pause here, to check the name on the forms in his folder. "Ludwig Beilschmidt?"

/uses another irrelevant icon

[beau_bonnefoy]

It was not a surprise to Francis when his his shirt was grabbed and shaken. He knew this was his fault. All he had to do was get up and follow Gilbert out and hand him that helmet. Or better yet, keep him from getting on that bike. Gilbert had already been drunk off his ass, it would have taken no effort at all to get those keys from him. But what had he done! Just sat there in that bar, completely dumbfounded by what Gilbert had shouted at him.

"...I know. This is all my fault." Although Ludwig was so close, Francis couldn't bear to make eye contact. The guilt wouldn't allow it. He kept his gaze turned away from him, fixated on the floor. As he was, Ludwig probably had a good shot at punching his face in. And at the moment, part of Francis really wanted him to. He deserved that in the least, and more if....Gilbert didn't come out of this. What kind of person kills his best friend, indirectly or not? "I know I should have done more...and I didn't....I have no excuse for that." And here would be a good moment for his face to get broken into a million pieces.

But then he heard that doctor. He had no idea how long he'd been there, or what he heard, but regardless of that, whatever the man had to say was more important than the current conversation. He tried to jerk his way out of Ludwig's grip, his hand automatically going to the collar of his shirt to see how much it was stretched out now. He didn't care, really, but his hand had done it before he even realised. It would probably be better if he just went to sit down on one of the chairs along the wall, but he wanted to know what the doctor had to say as well.

ugh so sorry.

[deutsch_bitte]

Ludwig dropped Francis' shirt as soon as he heard the doctor clear his throat. Francis seemed to understand the gravity of the situation, and although he was still seething at the facts, the doctor presented a new, more productive course of action than punching Francis in the face. Still, his hands fell in closed fists at his sides as he turned to the doctor and he hoped in a corner of his mind, under all his other hopes, that he would not be scolded for fighting in the hospital.

He caught the doctor's eye, hoping to find anything that would tell him about his brother. "I am Ludwig," he said, and found his voice stronger than he had thought it would be. Swallowing thickly, he asked the only question that mattered, "is he alive?"