come pick me up (rich)
Except apparently, today, Alo is like that. Alo clings to you and you can hear him inhale shakily before he forces himself to let go. It should worry you. Mostly you’re embarrassed, and annoyed at being made embarrassed.
It should definitely worry you when Alo shows up on your doorstep with a backpack and a lost look in his eyes. But you’re too happy to notice how sad he is.
But then you see it, that his eyes are too watery and red-rimmed, and when you ask if he’s okay, his smile is too bright, too obviously faked. He’s lying to you, you know him well enough to know that, but you don't know why. You can see through it, easily, except you can also see that he doesn’t want you to.
You’re not sure how much you should push. You can’t let him bolt; he’s got bags on his back and tears in his eyes. “Come inside, mate,” you tell him, holding the door open.
“No, I...I’m fine, really, I should...Grace is here, I don't wanna...”
You step out, wrap an arm around his shoulders, guide him gently into the house. He follows easily. You’re concerned. You lead him into the living room. His eyes have gone blank. You tell him to sit down, but it’s like he hasn’t heard you. You take his bags from him, tell him you’ll be right back. You leave his bags in your bedroom and tell Grace that he’s here, that something’s wrong, that you’re sorry but it’s bad and he needs you. Grace smiles, kisses you, tells you that you’re sweet.
You get back to the living room and Alo’s too pale, shaking. He’s not breathing right. You think maybe he’s taken something; maybe he’s having a bad reaction. “Alo, mate, sit down. Just...relax, okay? Deep breaths.”
You’ve done this before. You were at a party. You went to the toilet, only left Alo for five minutes, and when you got back the other boy had been pressured into taking something, taking too much of something. And it was fine at first. Alo was fine, until he wasn’t, until he was grabbing at you and whimpering, begging to go, to go home, please. You called a taxi, took him back to your place and had to tell your dad that Alo had taken something, you didn’t know what but it was bad. Your dad called a helpline and told you that it’d be better in the morning, that he just needed to try to stay calm and sleep it off and to drink lots of water. He was having hallucinations, freaking the fuck out. You stayed up with him all night, let Alo cling to you, calmed him down, assured him of what was real and what wasn’t. You haven’t thought about that awful night again, repressed the memory, because fuck it was bad.
“Alo, breathe. Calm down, then you can tell me what’s going on.” You rub his back, relieved when he shudders and stops gulping at air, slows down a bit. “Talk to me.”
“My dad...” he says, and you’re alarmed when he starts crying, but you wait it out. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.
His dad’s in hospital. Well. Shit. Okay. “What happened?”
“A heart...thing. I don't...don’t know.”
“Do you want to go to the hospital?”
He looks at you with pure terror. You squeeze his shoulder tightly in response. You’re gripping so hard you think it’ll probably bruise. “I’ll come with you.” Even the thought of leaving him alone like this makes you feel vaguely sick.
“But Grace...” Alo protests weakly.
“Grace will understand,” you tell him, firmly. You think he’s responding to firm quite well. He needs to be told what to do now. He can’t deal with deciding for himself. “I’ll call a taxi and we’ll go to the hospital, just us, okay?”
Alo nods very slowly, timid.
“Is it okay if I tell Grace what’s going on?”
“It’s fine. Are you sure you shouldn’t stay with her?”
“Alo. Don’t be a twat.” It feels a lot like victory when he smiles, shakily.
Grace is mostly asleep when you go up to talk to her. You feel guilty for waking her, guilty for leaving her like this. “Gracie, Alo’s dad’s in hospital.”
“Oh, oh no. Is his dad okay?”
“Alo doesn’t know yet. He’s going to find out. I have to go with him. I’m sorry.”
Grace sits up to kiss you. “There’ll be other times. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“I love you. You’re amazing.”
“I know. Now go look after Alo.” She’s dressed and ready to leave by the time the taxi arrives. You kiss her goodbye. She hugs Alo tightly and waves off his apologies.
Alo’s tense in the taxi. When he starts shaking, you reach over to hold his hand, remind him he’s not alone, you’re there, you’re with him. You can’t make everything okay but you’re trying.
You pay the fare, open the door and climb out. You have to sort of drag Alo out behind you. You’re still holding hands. He’s gripping tightly, scared. He has that look again, like he’s got his bags on his back and he’s ready to run. You lead him over to a bench near the door. “Sit down. In five minutes, we’ll go in, okay?”
“F-five?”
“Five minutes. Not until then,” you promise. He’ll never be ready to go in, but you’re giving him time, giving him the best chance you can.
He’s saying your name like he’s begging for something. “You can do this, Alo. I’m not letting you leave.”
He whimpers and you can almost feel the exact moment his anxiety amps up into another panic attack.
“Alo, Alo, breathe. Breathe. Deep breath in. Come on, deep breaths. That’s it. There, like that. Slow down. Take your time.”
“F-five m-min-minutes,” he gasps, and you almost regret saying that, but then he’s trying, really trying to calm down.
“Yeah, five minutes. Just breathe now though, okay?”
He nods. His eyes are wild and his breathing’s ragged. You worry that if you take him inside with you like this, they’ll think he’s a patient.
He’s mostly settled down by the time the five minutes are up. He still looks terrified, but he stands up when you do and he walks with you to the door. He freezes just as it opens.
There’s a nurse at the reception desk watching with concern. Alo’s shaking his head and trying to back away, except he can’t let go of your hand and you’re not moving unless it’s forwards.
The nurse is coming over now. “Is there something wrong, boys?”
It’s clear to you that Alo can’t manage conversation at this point, so you take over. “Uh, yeah. This is my friend Alo Creevey. His dad’s just been admitted, for some kind of heart thing? Alo’s kind of freaking out. I’m not sure I can get him inside.”
“Right, okay. I can’t tell you anything myself, but I can ask Mr Creevey’s doctor to come and talk to him. Let him stay outside for now. I’ll get the doctor and we’ll go from there, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you.” Once you’re back on the bench, you realise how out of it Alo looks. He has no idea what’s just gone on, just asks if he has to go in. “Not yet. Your dad’s doctor’s gonna come and talk to you.”
With near perfect timing, the doctor walks out through the automatic door at just that moment. “Is this Alo?”
“This is Alo.”
“I’m Dr Shelley. Who are you?”
“I’m Rich, Alo’s friend.”
“Not a relative then?”
“Um, no.”
“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Alo’s clinging to you then. You don't think you could leave if you wanted to. “I think Alo wants me to stay.”
Doctor Shelley asks Alo if he wants you to stay. Alo stares blankly at him. You have to ask him to get a response. He sounds bad. “I’m staying right here,” you tell him.
Dr Shelley says that’s fine. He explains, as simply as he can, that Alo’s dad has a pre-existing heart condition, that apparently everyone was aware of it except Alo, that he’s had a heart attack thing and he needs to rest and recover and he’ll be fine this time, but it could happen again and it probably will and maybe he won’t be okay next time and Alo needs to prepare himself for that possibility.
“Look, no offence, but you’re not being very reassuring right now.”
It should definitely worry you when Alo shows up on your doorstep with a backpack and a lost look in his eyes. But you’re too happy to notice how sad he is.
But then you see it, that his eyes are too watery and red-rimmed, and when you ask if he’s okay, his smile is too bright, too obviously faked. He’s lying to you, you know him well enough to know that, but you don't know why. You can see through it, easily, except you can also see that he doesn’t want you to.
You’re not sure how much you should push. You can’t let him bolt; he’s got bags on his back and tears in his eyes. “Come inside, mate,” you tell him, holding the door open.
“No, I...I’m fine, really, I should...Grace is here, I don't wanna...”
You step out, wrap an arm around his shoulders, guide him gently into the house. He follows easily. You’re concerned. You lead him into the living room. His eyes have gone blank. You tell him to sit down, but it’s like he hasn’t heard you. You take his bags from him, tell him you’ll be right back. You leave his bags in your bedroom and tell Grace that he’s here, that something’s wrong, that you’re sorry but it’s bad and he needs you. Grace smiles, kisses you, tells you that you’re sweet.
You get back to the living room and Alo’s too pale, shaking. He’s not breathing right. You think maybe he’s taken something; maybe he’s having a bad reaction. “Alo, mate, sit down. Just...relax, okay? Deep breaths.”
You’ve done this before. You were at a party. You went to the toilet, only left Alo for five minutes, and when you got back the other boy had been pressured into taking something, taking too much of something. And it was fine at first. Alo was fine, until he wasn’t, until he was grabbing at you and whimpering, begging to go, to go home, please. You called a taxi, took him back to your place and had to tell your dad that Alo had taken something, you didn’t know what but it was bad. Your dad called a helpline and told you that it’d be better in the morning, that he just needed to try to stay calm and sleep it off and to drink lots of water. He was having hallucinations, freaking the fuck out. You stayed up with him all night, let Alo cling to you, calmed him down, assured him of what was real and what wasn’t. You haven’t thought about that awful night again, repressed the memory, because fuck it was bad.
“Alo, breathe. Calm down, then you can tell me what’s going on.” You rub his back, relieved when he shudders and stops gulping at air, slows down a bit. “Talk to me.”
“My dad...” he says, and you’re alarmed when he starts crying, but you wait it out. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.
His dad’s in hospital. Well. Shit. Okay. “What happened?”
“A heart...thing. I don't...don’t know.”
“Do you want to go to the hospital?”
He looks at you with pure terror. You squeeze his shoulder tightly in response. You’re gripping so hard you think it’ll probably bruise. “I’ll come with you.” Even the thought of leaving him alone like this makes you feel vaguely sick.
“But Grace...” Alo protests weakly.
“Grace will understand,” you tell him, firmly. You think he’s responding to firm quite well. He needs to be told what to do now. He can’t deal with deciding for himself. “I’ll call a taxi and we’ll go to the hospital, just us, okay?”
Alo nods very slowly, timid.
“Is it okay if I tell Grace what’s going on?”
“It’s fine. Are you sure you shouldn’t stay with her?”
“Alo. Don’t be a twat.” It feels a lot like victory when he smiles, shakily.
Grace is mostly asleep when you go up to talk to her. You feel guilty for waking her, guilty for leaving her like this. “Gracie, Alo’s dad’s in hospital.”
“Oh, oh no. Is his dad okay?”
“Alo doesn’t know yet. He’s going to find out. I have to go with him. I’m sorry.”
Grace sits up to kiss you. “There’ll be other times. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“I love you. You’re amazing.”
“I know. Now go look after Alo.” She’s dressed and ready to leave by the time the taxi arrives. You kiss her goodbye. She hugs Alo tightly and waves off his apologies.
Alo’s tense in the taxi. When he starts shaking, you reach over to hold his hand, remind him he’s not alone, you’re there, you’re with him. You can’t make everything okay but you’re trying.
You pay the fare, open the door and climb out. You have to sort of drag Alo out behind you. You’re still holding hands. He’s gripping tightly, scared. He has that look again, like he’s got his bags on his back and he’s ready to run. You lead him over to a bench near the door. “Sit down. In five minutes, we’ll go in, okay?”
“F-five?”
“Five minutes. Not until then,” you promise. He’ll never be ready to go in, but you’re giving him time, giving him the best chance you can.
He’s saying your name like he’s begging for something. “You can do this, Alo. I’m not letting you leave.”
He whimpers and you can almost feel the exact moment his anxiety amps up into another panic attack.
“Alo, Alo, breathe. Breathe. Deep breath in. Come on, deep breaths. That’s it. There, like that. Slow down. Take your time.”
“F-five m-min-minutes,” he gasps, and you almost regret saying that, but then he’s trying, really trying to calm down.
“Yeah, five minutes. Just breathe now though, okay?”
He nods. His eyes are wild and his breathing’s ragged. You worry that if you take him inside with you like this, they’ll think he’s a patient.
He’s mostly settled down by the time the five minutes are up. He still looks terrified, but he stands up when you do and he walks with you to the door. He freezes just as it opens.
There’s a nurse at the reception desk watching with concern. Alo’s shaking his head and trying to back away, except he can’t let go of your hand and you’re not moving unless it’s forwards.
The nurse is coming over now. “Is there something wrong, boys?”
It’s clear to you that Alo can’t manage conversation at this point, so you take over. “Uh, yeah. This is my friend Alo Creevey. His dad’s just been admitted, for some kind of heart thing? Alo’s kind of freaking out. I’m not sure I can get him inside.”
“Right, okay. I can’t tell you anything myself, but I can ask Mr Creevey’s doctor to come and talk to him. Let him stay outside for now. I’ll get the doctor and we’ll go from there, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you.” Once you’re back on the bench, you realise how out of it Alo looks. He has no idea what’s just gone on, just asks if he has to go in. “Not yet. Your dad’s doctor’s gonna come and talk to you.”
With near perfect timing, the doctor walks out through the automatic door at just that moment. “Is this Alo?”
“This is Alo.”
“I’m Dr Shelley. Who are you?”
“I’m Rich, Alo’s friend.”
“Not a relative then?”
“Um, no.”
“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Alo’s clinging to you then. You don't think you could leave if you wanted to. “I think Alo wants me to stay.”
Doctor Shelley asks Alo if he wants you to stay. Alo stares blankly at him. You have to ask him to get a response. He sounds bad. “I’m staying right here,” you tell him.
Dr Shelley says that’s fine. He explains, as simply as he can, that Alo’s dad has a pre-existing heart condition, that apparently everyone was aware of it except Alo, that he’s had a heart attack thing and he needs to rest and recover and he’ll be fine this time, but it could happen again and it probably will and maybe he won’t be okay next time and Alo needs to prepare himself for that possibility.
“Look, no offence, but you’re not being very reassuring right now.”