A Decorated Emergency [Joncer PG-13 standalone]
Title: A Decorated Emergency
Author:
silver_etoile
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spencer/Jon
POV: Third
Disclaimer: Never happened.
Summary: Jon doesn't know quite what he's done to make Spencer hate him, but he's even more fearful of what he just did.
A/N: Written for
todayimfine, whose prompt was "Oh, I'm ready for it. Come on, bring it." preferably with a dash of angst.
*
"Oh, I'm ready for it. Come on, bring it."
Jon put his head in his hands as the words rang through his head. He was so dead. His parents were going to kill him when they found out. He could barely stand himself at this point.
It was a childish rivalry that had gotten out of hand. Jon didn’t know how it had escalated to this point, but here he was.
“Oh, God,” he groaned into his hands, listening to the dull echo of the intercom around him.
“Doctor Johnson, please report to surgery one.”
Jon rubbed his forehead and glanced up.
Everything was white. The floor, the walls, the nurses that bustled around in their scrubs, charts in their hands. Jon hadn’t had information since the EMTs had bustled them into the emergency room and he’d been told to sit tight in the waiting chair for the police to arrive. He’d been checked over by a regular doctor, but everything had been fine.
So Jon waited, reliving it over and over in his mind.
He’d known Spencer Smith for a good two years, ever since Spencer had transferred to Washington High School.
Normally, Jon didn’t have any trouble making friends, but Spencer had been different. Spencer didn’t want to talk to Jon, didn’t want to have anything to do with him. It had bothered Jon, a lot. He wasn’t used to people disliking him.
He’d tried everything he could to get Spencer to like him, to be nice to him even, but nothing had worked.
Spencer had stubbornly ignored Jon for the first year and had taken to hating Jon in the second. Jon hadn’t known what to do. He’d never had an enemy before.
He still tried to be nice to Spencer, but Spencer would have none of it. He glared at Jon whenever they passed in the halls and purposefully ruined joint science projects. Finally, Jon had had enough.
“Okay,” Jon said, staring at Spencer across from him on the football field. “Why do you hate me so much?”
Spencer just shrugged haughtily. “Why are you so insistent on being nice to me?”
Jon just stared. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Maybe it is,” Spencer replied, his blue eyes narrowing as his hands rose to his hips.
“But why?” Jon asked. He didn’t understand.
“We’re gonna settle this,” Spencer said instead, and Jon’s mouth fell open.
“There’s nothing to settle!”
“I’ll make you a deal. If I win, you leave me alone.”
“Win what?”
“And if you win.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “I’ll hang out with you.”
Jon was confused. “What are we winning?”
Spencer’s smirk was not reassuring.
Jon was going through all the possibilities in his mind as he stared at the nurses’ station. A tall woman wearing pink scrubs was scribbling on a chart and talking quickly to another nurse. Jon wondered if they were talking about Spencer.
“Uh, excuse me,” he said, approaching the nurses, and they broke apart. “Do you know anything about Spencer Smith?”
One of the nurses glanced at the chart. “Are you family, sir?”
“No, I-”
“I’m sorry, sir, but only family can be informed.”
“But I-”
“The doctor will be around in a while, if you want to ask him.”
Jon sighed in defeat. “Thanks.”
Sinking back onto the hard waiting chair, Jon glanced down at his hands. Red blood brushed over his knuckles and his hands trembled as he bunched them into fists and focused on the linoleum floor.
He’d been there for over an hour and he wondered where Spencer’s family was. His question was answered when a woman came hurrying into the emergency room and stopped at the nurses’ station, her hair askew and she was breathing heavily as though she had run all the way.
“Spencer Smith,” she demanded of the nurse. “Where is he?”
“Are you his mother?” the nurse asked calmly and Jon wondered how these people could be so calm.
“Yes, yes,” the woman said loudly. “Where is Spencer?”
The nurse checked her chart again though Jon could swear she had it memorized by now. “He’s in surgery at the moment, but the doctor will be out as soon as it’s over. You can wait over there.”
She pointed to where Jon felt like shriveling up and dying on the chair. Mrs. Smith nodded tersely to the nurse and walked over, sitting down gingerly in the chair and fidgeting as she looked all around, no doubt for a doctor or for someone who could help.
She stopped as he caught sight of Jon, who ducked her gaze and stared at his hand, rubbing off the blood carefully. He knew she would notice.
He knew she was staring at him; he could feel her eyes on him. He determinedly kept his eyes down.
“Who are you?” Mrs. Smith asked after a second, but Jon was sure she already knew.
“I, uh,” he fumbled. “I’m Jon.”
“Jon,” Mrs. Smith repeated. “Would you care to tell me what happened, Jon?”
Jon’s eyes widened and he hated that he felt like he was ten again and was caught stealing cookies before dinner. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest as he tried to think up the right answer.
“Okay, so you want me to…” Jon trailed away. He wasn’t exactly sure what Spencer meant by this.
Spencer rolled his eyes and pushed aside a trashcan behind the school. It crashed as it rolled away and Spencer turned back to Jon.
“I want you to fight me. You do know how to do that, right?”
“How do you?” Jon stared at Spencer, taking in his thin stature and almost girlish features. He’d never pegged Spencer for the dueling type.
“I’m not stupid,” Spencer sneered, pulling off his hoodie and tossing it aside. Jon just stared.
Jon wasn’t a fighter. He’d never punched anyone in his life aside from the first grade bully, and then, it had merely been a shove into a mud puddle that had sent the boy home bawling like a baby. Jon didn’t like physical fighting. He didn’t see how it could settle things.
“Okay, but can’t we, you know, figure this out some other way? I mean, do we have to-”
Jon was caught off-guard by a sharp punch from Spencer to his jaw. Raising a hand to it, his eyes widened. He’d never been hit before. He could feel the ache of pain shoot through his mouth as he moved it slowly.
Spencer was watching him carefully, his fists up as he danced in front of Jon, keeping just out of reach.
“Come on,” he taunted, darting forward and shoving Jon back.
Jon hit the wall of the building hard and coughed as the air rushed from his lungs.
“Why are you doing this?” Jon asked helplessly as Spencer took another swipe, which he managed to duck this time, skirting around Spencer.
“Why aren’t you fighting back?” Spencer countered, his eyes narrowed.
“Because it’s stupid!” Jon exclaimed, not moving fast enough as Spencer’s fist hit his mouth again. He could taste the coppery blood on his tongue and hoped he hadn’t lost a tooth.
“Please,” Spencer scoffed. “You want me to be your friend, you gotta win.”
“Why can’t you just be my friend anyway?” Jon asked, trying to ignore the pain racing through his jaw.
Spencer circled around Jon, shoving him again. “Because I don’t want to be. You’re so popular and everybody likes you. I don’t want to like you.”
“Why not?” Jon asked, ducking around Spencer as he moved forward. He knew he was just avoiding the fight that Spencer was so intent on creating, but he didn’t want to fight. “What would be so bad about that?”
Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.” Jon’s eyes hardened. He was sick of this. He stood his ground as Spencer watched him darkly.
“I don’t want to,” he replied snidely. “So just fucking punch me.”
Jon steeled himself. If Spencer wanted him to punch him, he would. “I don’t think you’re ready.”
Spencer scoffed, tossing Jon a sneer. “Oh, I’m ready for it. Come on, bring it.”
Jon swallowed hard and lifted his gaze to Mrs. Smith’s face. His first thought was that she had the same vivid blue eyes that Spencer did.
“Um, we,” he said, glancing down at his fingers and the dried blood on it. Hastily, he wiped it off, hating how it looked. “We got into a fight.”
Mrs. Smith didn’t say anything for a moment while Jon’s eyes went back to his shoes.
“Do fight a lot, Jon?” she asked and Jon noted the use of his name.
“No,” he mumbled. “I never do.”
“But you did today.”
Jon bit his lip. “I didn’t mean it. It was an accident.”
Mrs. Smith raised an eyebrow as she stared at the boy sitting next to her. “What exactly happened?”
Jon stared hard at his shoes and listened to the garbled intercom above him.
“Afraid?” Spencer taunted as Jon doubled over from the punch to his stomach.
“No, just trying to figure out why you’re doing it,” Jon gasped, clutching his stomach and scrambling to his feet.
“Fight back, damnit,” Spencer demanded, staring at Jon, breathing hard through his nose and willing him to punch him.
“Fine!” Jon yelled finally, having enough of this crap. He launched himself at Spencer, pushing him to the ground, cringing at the pain from his stomach as Spencer kicked him hard in the side. Rolling over, Spencer pushed him down, hitting his jaw again and Jon cursed loudly.
Struggling against Spencer, Jon threw a punch to his jaw, hard. Spencer flailed back, falling off Jon and into the trashcan. He hit the wall behind hard and slid down.
Jon paused, breathing hard and staring when Spencer didn’t get back up. Hurrying over, he pulled Spencer up. His fingers felt wet and sticky, and as he looked at them, he caught sight of blood.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, looking down and catching sight of Spencer’s wrist. A piece of cut glass lay where his hand had fallen and now blood gushed from the wound. “Oh shit, oh God, oh God,” Jon freaked, scrambling for something, anything to stop the bleeding.
Grabbing Spencer’s blue hoodie, he pressed it against the wrist hard and fumbled for the cell phone in his pocket, trying not to hyperventilate as his fingers stumbled over three numbers.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” the voice answered and Jon nearly dropped the phone, holding Spencer closely.
“I-I need an ambulance,” he yelled hastily, hardly knowing what he was saying.
“Where are you?”
“I’m at Washington High School,” Jon stuttered, giving a cry as he lifted the hoodie and the blood came rushing out again. “I, he, he’s unconscious and bleeding and I don’t know what to do.”
“An ambulance is on its way,” the woman said and Jon nodded even though she couldn’t see him.
“Okay, okay,” he whispered. “Oh my God, this is bad, really bad.”
Mrs. Smith stared at Jon as he mumbled his way through the story. He kept his head down and avoided looking at the blood stains on his jeans. He could still feel the dull ache in his jaw and it hurt to talk. The paramedics had given him a cold compress, but it wasn’t quite as cold now and sat in his lap. He could feel the bruise starting to form on his side and it hurt to move too.
Mrs. Smith didn’t say anything as he finished. Jon was sure she was going to blame him for putting Spencer in the hospital. He sure did. If he’d just said no, refused to fight like he’d originally planned, none of this would have happened. If he’d just left Spencer alone when it was clear that Spencer wanted nothing to do with him, it never would have gotten to this point.
Jon was relieved and scared at the same time when the doctor finally came out. Mrs. Smith stood immediately, but Jon remained in his seat, staring at the floor.
The doctor glanced between the two. “Mrs. Smith?” he asked and she nodded.
“Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine,” the doctor assured her. “It was just a simple stitching up, but he has a concussion and he lost a lot of blood.”
Mrs. Smith nodded seriously, listening closely. “Can he come home?”
“In a little while,” the doctor said. “We’d like to keep him here just to make sure everything’s okay.”
“Can I see him?”
The doctor nodded and they left Jon alone. He sighed in relief as they walked out of sight. Spencer was okay. He wasn’t going to die.
Glancing over, Jon’s stomach turned over as he saw a police officer walking his way. Slinking down in his chair, he couldn’t help thinking that this was the worst day ever.
*
Mrs. Smith emerged from Spencer’s room half an hour later. The police had just left after assuring Jon that everything would be fine and warning him not to get in anymore fights.
Jon certainly didn’t plan on it.
She looked a little less frazzled as she talked to the nurse briefly and turned to find Jon still there. She paused for a second and approached him.
“Would you like to see him?”
Jon’s eyes shot up. “Oh, no, I should, I mean, I don-”
“I think you should go see him,” Mrs. Smith said and Jon wondered at the warm tone of her voice. He was sure she would hate him.
“O-okay,” he agreed. He got the feeling she wouldn’t let him leave without talking to Spencer.
Stepping up to the door, Jon wasn’t sure what to say.
‘Oh, hello, Spencer. Sorry for practically slitting your wrist and nearly killing you.’ That didn’t sound too good to Jon.
But he swallowed what nerves he could and stepped inside.
Spencer was sitting up on the bed, a white gauze bandage wrapped around his right wrist. He glanced over sharply as Jon came inside.
“Um, hi,” Jon said awkwardly, coming inside completely but lingering behind the chair by the bed.
“Hi,” Spencer replied just as awkwardly. He was making a big deal of inspecting the bandage and Jon tried to think of something to say.
“I’m sorry,” he managed finally. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
Spencer laughed bitterly. “I did.”
Jon just stared. “But why? Do you really hate me that much?”
“No.” Spencer sighed. “I don’t hate you at all.”
“But you…” Jon was really confused. “I don’t get it.”
Spencer let his arm fall to his lap and glanced up at Jon. He could see the rise of the bruise on his left cheek.
“I don’t hate you,” Spencer repeated simply. “I never hated you. But you’re popular and I didn’t see how you wanted to be my friend.”
Jon just stared. “Why not? I mean, you seemed nice when we first met. And you’re smart.”
Spencer just bit his lip and glanced down. “It wasn’t just about being your friend.”
Jon frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I guess you haven’t heard the rumors,” Spencer muttered.
Jon shook his head. “What rumors?” He moved carefully around the chair and sat down in it as Spencer sighed and rubbed his forehead.
“I’m gay,” he muttered quietly.
Jon stared for a moment before laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Spencer demanded, his eyes hardening again.
“You,” Jon choked through his laughter, sobering up quickly at Spencer’s glare. “I mean, you’re not the only gay guy around.”
Spencer looked confused now. “Well, I haven’t seen any others.”
Jon laughed again but stopped quickly when Spencer scowled again. “Obviously, you haven’t been looking hard enough.”
“What does that mean?”
Jon sighed. “It means that my reasons for wanting to friend you weren’t strictly platonic.”
Spencer stared at Jon, and then glanced down to his wrist. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh,” Jon repeated. He watched Spencer for a minute, not sure what he was supposed to do. “So, I’m sorry for today, and for the last couple years.”
Spencer just nodded and Jon hesitated before rising from the chair and smiling slightly down at him.
“So, do you think maybe we could start over?”
Spencer paused, his eyes traveling over the bruise on Jon’s face and reaching his hopeful eyes.
“I’d appreciate that,” he murmured finally and Jon smiled for real this time.
“Okay. Hi, I’m Jon.”
“I didn’t mean literally,” Spencer replied sharply and Jon laughed.
“Right. Okay, well, I’ll see you at school, then.”
He made to turn around, but Spencer caught his arm and he turned around.
“Uh, Jon,” he said, pulling him over and struggling to the edge of the bed. He rose up to Jon’s level, staring at him. “Could you maybe not mention how this happened at school?”
“What? You want to be known as the suicidal kid?” Jon asked, eyeing the bandage.
“No,” Spencer muttered, glancing at Jon. “I just feel stupid for this.”
Jon smiled. “Don’t. It was just a misunderstanding.”
“That landed me in the hospital,” Spencer added, frowning.
“We all do stupid things.”
Spencer paused and nodded. “Yeah, I guess we do.”
Jon’s eyes widened slightly as Spencer leaned in, pressing their lips together. He was in shock and let Spencer kiss him carefully, slipping his tongue inside his mouth.
Jon let his eyes close as Spencer deepened the kiss, pulling on his bottom lip. He flinched, though, as Spencer raised a hand to his bruised cheek.
Pulling away, he winced and raised a delicate hand to the spot. “Hurts,” he muttered and Spencer nodded.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Jon smiled and backed away. “Um, so, I should go.”
Spencer just nodded and watched him back out of the room. After Jon disappeared through the doorway and past Mrs. Smith, who was watching knowingly, Spencer slid off the bed and joined her where she appeared at the door.
“Ready to go home?” she asked, sliding an arm around his shoulder.
Spencer just smiled. “I think I am now.”
Mrs. Smith just shook her head and walked with Spencer out to the car.
*
FIN.
Author:
silver_etoile
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spencer/Jon
POV: Third
Disclaimer: Never happened.
Summary: Jon doesn't know quite what he's done to make Spencer hate him, but he's even more fearful of what he just did.
A/N: Written for
todayimfine, whose prompt was "Oh, I'm ready for it. Come on, bring it." preferably with a dash of angst.
*
"Oh, I'm ready for it. Come on, bring it."
Jon put his head in his hands as the words rang through his head. He was so dead. His parents were going to kill him when they found out. He could barely stand himself at this point.
It was a childish rivalry that had gotten out of hand. Jon didn’t know how it had escalated to this point, but here he was.
“Oh, God,” he groaned into his hands, listening to the dull echo of the intercom around him.
“Doctor Johnson, please report to surgery one.”
Jon rubbed his forehead and glanced up.
Everything was white. The floor, the walls, the nurses that bustled around in their scrubs, charts in their hands. Jon hadn’t had information since the EMTs had bustled them into the emergency room and he’d been told to sit tight in the waiting chair for the police to arrive. He’d been checked over by a regular doctor, but everything had been fine.
So Jon waited, reliving it over and over in his mind.
He’d known Spencer Smith for a good two years, ever since Spencer had transferred to Washington High School.
Normally, Jon didn’t have any trouble making friends, but Spencer had been different. Spencer didn’t want to talk to Jon, didn’t want to have anything to do with him. It had bothered Jon, a lot. He wasn’t used to people disliking him.
He’d tried everything he could to get Spencer to like him, to be nice to him even, but nothing had worked.
Spencer had stubbornly ignored Jon for the first year and had taken to hating Jon in the second. Jon hadn’t known what to do. He’d never had an enemy before.
He still tried to be nice to Spencer, but Spencer would have none of it. He glared at Jon whenever they passed in the halls and purposefully ruined joint science projects. Finally, Jon had had enough.
“Okay,” Jon said, staring at Spencer across from him on the football field. “Why do you hate me so much?”
Spencer just shrugged haughtily. “Why are you so insistent on being nice to me?”
Jon just stared. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Maybe it is,” Spencer replied, his blue eyes narrowing as his hands rose to his hips.
“But why?” Jon asked. He didn’t understand.
“We’re gonna settle this,” Spencer said instead, and Jon’s mouth fell open.
“There’s nothing to settle!”
“I’ll make you a deal. If I win, you leave me alone.”
“Win what?”
“And if you win.” Spencer rolled his eyes. “I’ll hang out with you.”
Jon was confused. “What are we winning?”
Spencer’s smirk was not reassuring.
Jon was going through all the possibilities in his mind as he stared at the nurses’ station. A tall woman wearing pink scrubs was scribbling on a chart and talking quickly to another nurse. Jon wondered if they were talking about Spencer.
“Uh, excuse me,” he said, approaching the nurses, and they broke apart. “Do you know anything about Spencer Smith?”
One of the nurses glanced at the chart. “Are you family, sir?”
“No, I-”
“I’m sorry, sir, but only family can be informed.”
“But I-”
“The doctor will be around in a while, if you want to ask him.”
Jon sighed in defeat. “Thanks.”
Sinking back onto the hard waiting chair, Jon glanced down at his hands. Red blood brushed over his knuckles and his hands trembled as he bunched them into fists and focused on the linoleum floor.
He’d been there for over an hour and he wondered where Spencer’s family was. His question was answered when a woman came hurrying into the emergency room and stopped at the nurses’ station, her hair askew and she was breathing heavily as though she had run all the way.
“Spencer Smith,” she demanded of the nurse. “Where is he?”
“Are you his mother?” the nurse asked calmly and Jon wondered how these people could be so calm.
“Yes, yes,” the woman said loudly. “Where is Spencer?”
The nurse checked her chart again though Jon could swear she had it memorized by now. “He’s in surgery at the moment, but the doctor will be out as soon as it’s over. You can wait over there.”
She pointed to where Jon felt like shriveling up and dying on the chair. Mrs. Smith nodded tersely to the nurse and walked over, sitting down gingerly in the chair and fidgeting as she looked all around, no doubt for a doctor or for someone who could help.
She stopped as he caught sight of Jon, who ducked her gaze and stared at his hand, rubbing off the blood carefully. He knew she would notice.
He knew she was staring at him; he could feel her eyes on him. He determinedly kept his eyes down.
“Who are you?” Mrs. Smith asked after a second, but Jon was sure she already knew.
“I, uh,” he fumbled. “I’m Jon.”
“Jon,” Mrs. Smith repeated. “Would you care to tell me what happened, Jon?”
Jon’s eyes widened and he hated that he felt like he was ten again and was caught stealing cookies before dinner. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest as he tried to think up the right answer.
“Okay, so you want me to…” Jon trailed away. He wasn’t exactly sure what Spencer meant by this.
Spencer rolled his eyes and pushed aside a trashcan behind the school. It crashed as it rolled away and Spencer turned back to Jon.
“I want you to fight me. You do know how to do that, right?”
“How do you?” Jon stared at Spencer, taking in his thin stature and almost girlish features. He’d never pegged Spencer for the dueling type.
“I’m not stupid,” Spencer sneered, pulling off his hoodie and tossing it aside. Jon just stared.
Jon wasn’t a fighter. He’d never punched anyone in his life aside from the first grade bully, and then, it had merely been a shove into a mud puddle that had sent the boy home bawling like a baby. Jon didn’t like physical fighting. He didn’t see how it could settle things.
“Okay, but can’t we, you know, figure this out some other way? I mean, do we have to-”
Jon was caught off-guard by a sharp punch from Spencer to his jaw. Raising a hand to it, his eyes widened. He’d never been hit before. He could feel the ache of pain shoot through his mouth as he moved it slowly.
Spencer was watching him carefully, his fists up as he danced in front of Jon, keeping just out of reach.
“Come on,” he taunted, darting forward and shoving Jon back.
Jon hit the wall of the building hard and coughed as the air rushed from his lungs.
“Why are you doing this?” Jon asked helplessly as Spencer took another swipe, which he managed to duck this time, skirting around Spencer.
“Why aren’t you fighting back?” Spencer countered, his eyes narrowed.
“Because it’s stupid!” Jon exclaimed, not moving fast enough as Spencer’s fist hit his mouth again. He could taste the coppery blood on his tongue and hoped he hadn’t lost a tooth.
“Please,” Spencer scoffed. “You want me to be your friend, you gotta win.”
“Why can’t you just be my friend anyway?” Jon asked, trying to ignore the pain racing through his jaw.
Spencer circled around Jon, shoving him again. “Because I don’t want to be. You’re so popular and everybody likes you. I don’t want to like you.”
“Why not?” Jon asked, ducking around Spencer as he moved forward. He knew he was just avoiding the fight that Spencer was so intent on creating, but he didn’t want to fight. “What would be so bad about that?”
Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.” Jon’s eyes hardened. He was sick of this. He stood his ground as Spencer watched him darkly.
“I don’t want to,” he replied snidely. “So just fucking punch me.”
Jon steeled himself. If Spencer wanted him to punch him, he would. “I don’t think you’re ready.”
Spencer scoffed, tossing Jon a sneer. “Oh, I’m ready for it. Come on, bring it.”
Jon swallowed hard and lifted his gaze to Mrs. Smith’s face. His first thought was that she had the same vivid blue eyes that Spencer did.
“Um, we,” he said, glancing down at his fingers and the dried blood on it. Hastily, he wiped it off, hating how it looked. “We got into a fight.”
Mrs. Smith didn’t say anything for a moment while Jon’s eyes went back to his shoes.
“Do fight a lot, Jon?” she asked and Jon noted the use of his name.
“No,” he mumbled. “I never do.”
“But you did today.”
Jon bit his lip. “I didn’t mean it. It was an accident.”
Mrs. Smith raised an eyebrow as she stared at the boy sitting next to her. “What exactly happened?”
Jon stared hard at his shoes and listened to the garbled intercom above him.
“Afraid?” Spencer taunted as Jon doubled over from the punch to his stomach.
“No, just trying to figure out why you’re doing it,” Jon gasped, clutching his stomach and scrambling to his feet.
“Fight back, damnit,” Spencer demanded, staring at Jon, breathing hard through his nose and willing him to punch him.
“Fine!” Jon yelled finally, having enough of this crap. He launched himself at Spencer, pushing him to the ground, cringing at the pain from his stomach as Spencer kicked him hard in the side. Rolling over, Spencer pushed him down, hitting his jaw again and Jon cursed loudly.
Struggling against Spencer, Jon threw a punch to his jaw, hard. Spencer flailed back, falling off Jon and into the trashcan. He hit the wall behind hard and slid down.
Jon paused, breathing hard and staring when Spencer didn’t get back up. Hurrying over, he pulled Spencer up. His fingers felt wet and sticky, and as he looked at them, he caught sight of blood.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, looking down and catching sight of Spencer’s wrist. A piece of cut glass lay where his hand had fallen and now blood gushed from the wound. “Oh shit, oh God, oh God,” Jon freaked, scrambling for something, anything to stop the bleeding.
Grabbing Spencer’s blue hoodie, he pressed it against the wrist hard and fumbled for the cell phone in his pocket, trying not to hyperventilate as his fingers stumbled over three numbers.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” the voice answered and Jon nearly dropped the phone, holding Spencer closely.
“I-I need an ambulance,” he yelled hastily, hardly knowing what he was saying.
“Where are you?”
“I’m at Washington High School,” Jon stuttered, giving a cry as he lifted the hoodie and the blood came rushing out again. “I, he, he’s unconscious and bleeding and I don’t know what to do.”
“An ambulance is on its way,” the woman said and Jon nodded even though she couldn’t see him.
“Okay, okay,” he whispered. “Oh my God, this is bad, really bad.”
Mrs. Smith stared at Jon as he mumbled his way through the story. He kept his head down and avoided looking at the blood stains on his jeans. He could still feel the dull ache in his jaw and it hurt to talk. The paramedics had given him a cold compress, but it wasn’t quite as cold now and sat in his lap. He could feel the bruise starting to form on his side and it hurt to move too.
Mrs. Smith didn’t say anything as he finished. Jon was sure she was going to blame him for putting Spencer in the hospital. He sure did. If he’d just said no, refused to fight like he’d originally planned, none of this would have happened. If he’d just left Spencer alone when it was clear that Spencer wanted nothing to do with him, it never would have gotten to this point.
Jon was relieved and scared at the same time when the doctor finally came out. Mrs. Smith stood immediately, but Jon remained in his seat, staring at the floor.
The doctor glanced between the two. “Mrs. Smith?” he asked and she nodded.
“Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine,” the doctor assured her. “It was just a simple stitching up, but he has a concussion and he lost a lot of blood.”
Mrs. Smith nodded seriously, listening closely. “Can he come home?”
“In a little while,” the doctor said. “We’d like to keep him here just to make sure everything’s okay.”
“Can I see him?”
The doctor nodded and they left Jon alone. He sighed in relief as they walked out of sight. Spencer was okay. He wasn’t going to die.
Glancing over, Jon’s stomach turned over as he saw a police officer walking his way. Slinking down in his chair, he couldn’t help thinking that this was the worst day ever.
*
Mrs. Smith emerged from Spencer’s room half an hour later. The police had just left after assuring Jon that everything would be fine and warning him not to get in anymore fights.
Jon certainly didn’t plan on it.
She looked a little less frazzled as she talked to the nurse briefly and turned to find Jon still there. She paused for a second and approached him.
“Would you like to see him?”
Jon’s eyes shot up. “Oh, no, I should, I mean, I don-”
“I think you should go see him,” Mrs. Smith said and Jon wondered at the warm tone of her voice. He was sure she would hate him.
“O-okay,” he agreed. He got the feeling she wouldn’t let him leave without talking to Spencer.
Stepping up to the door, Jon wasn’t sure what to say.
‘Oh, hello, Spencer. Sorry for practically slitting your wrist and nearly killing you.’ That didn’t sound too good to Jon.
But he swallowed what nerves he could and stepped inside.
Spencer was sitting up on the bed, a white gauze bandage wrapped around his right wrist. He glanced over sharply as Jon came inside.
“Um, hi,” Jon said awkwardly, coming inside completely but lingering behind the chair by the bed.
“Hi,” Spencer replied just as awkwardly. He was making a big deal of inspecting the bandage and Jon tried to think of something to say.
“I’m sorry,” he managed finally. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
Spencer laughed bitterly. “I did.”
Jon just stared. “But why? Do you really hate me that much?”
“No.” Spencer sighed. “I don’t hate you at all.”
“But you…” Jon was really confused. “I don’t get it.”
Spencer let his arm fall to his lap and glanced up at Jon. He could see the rise of the bruise on his left cheek.
“I don’t hate you,” Spencer repeated simply. “I never hated you. But you’re popular and I didn’t see how you wanted to be my friend.”
Jon just stared. “Why not? I mean, you seemed nice when we first met. And you’re smart.”
Spencer just bit his lip and glanced down. “It wasn’t just about being your friend.”
Jon frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I guess you haven’t heard the rumors,” Spencer muttered.
Jon shook his head. “What rumors?” He moved carefully around the chair and sat down in it as Spencer sighed and rubbed his forehead.
“I’m gay,” he muttered quietly.
Jon stared for a moment before laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Spencer demanded, his eyes hardening again.
“You,” Jon choked through his laughter, sobering up quickly at Spencer’s glare. “I mean, you’re not the only gay guy around.”
Spencer looked confused now. “Well, I haven’t seen any others.”
Jon laughed again but stopped quickly when Spencer scowled again. “Obviously, you haven’t been looking hard enough.”
“What does that mean?”
Jon sighed. “It means that my reasons for wanting to friend you weren’t strictly platonic.”
Spencer stared at Jon, and then glanced down to his wrist. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh,” Jon repeated. He watched Spencer for a minute, not sure what he was supposed to do. “So, I’m sorry for today, and for the last couple years.”
Spencer just nodded and Jon hesitated before rising from the chair and smiling slightly down at him.
“So, do you think maybe we could start over?”
Spencer paused, his eyes traveling over the bruise on Jon’s face and reaching his hopeful eyes.
“I’d appreciate that,” he murmured finally and Jon smiled for real this time.
“Okay. Hi, I’m Jon.”
“I didn’t mean literally,” Spencer replied sharply and Jon laughed.
“Right. Okay, well, I’ll see you at school, then.”
He made to turn around, but Spencer caught his arm and he turned around.
“Uh, Jon,” he said, pulling him over and struggling to the edge of the bed. He rose up to Jon’s level, staring at him. “Could you maybe not mention how this happened at school?”
“What? You want to be known as the suicidal kid?” Jon asked, eyeing the bandage.
“No,” Spencer muttered, glancing at Jon. “I just feel stupid for this.”
Jon smiled. “Don’t. It was just a misunderstanding.”
“That landed me in the hospital,” Spencer added, frowning.
“We all do stupid things.”
Spencer paused and nodded. “Yeah, I guess we do.”
Jon’s eyes widened slightly as Spencer leaned in, pressing their lips together. He was in shock and let Spencer kiss him carefully, slipping his tongue inside his mouth.
Jon let his eyes close as Spencer deepened the kiss, pulling on his bottom lip. He flinched, though, as Spencer raised a hand to his bruised cheek.
Pulling away, he winced and raised a delicate hand to the spot. “Hurts,” he muttered and Spencer nodded.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Jon smiled and backed away. “Um, so, I should go.”
Spencer just nodded and watched him back out of the room. After Jon disappeared through the doorway and past Mrs. Smith, who was watching knowingly, Spencer slid off the bed and joined her where she appeared at the door.
“Ready to go home?” she asked, sliding an arm around his shoulder.
Spencer just smiled. “I think I am now.”
Mrs. Smith just shook her head and walked with Spencer out to the car.
*
FIN.