[CLOSED] why don't you love me?

[monroe owen hughes]

Monroe started to cry, pulling the pillow over his face in hopes he might suffocate. A nurse finally got fed up with him, and yanked the pillow away. "Stop crying! You got in an accident! It's okay!"

"No it's not!" He screamed, reaching for his pillow. She handed him a pair of crutches instead and told him to get up and walk around. He climbed out of bed, snatching them away from her. He left the room, occasionally stopping to pull up his jeans, one leg cut off for the cast. He looked into the nursery, hoping none of those kids turned out to be as bad as him, then started down the next hall, not bothering to look into the rooms. Zain was dead for all he knew.

[zain marshal rhoston]

Zain blinked as the doctor cleared his throat, then eyed the wheelchair. "No fucking way," He mumbled. "I can walk." He felt like he was going to pass out, forcing himself to take shallow, tight breaths. He felt like he was suffocating. He didn't realize that he pretty much was. "Where's Monroe..?" He whispered brokenly, fought them as they put an oxygen mask over his face.

[monroe owen hughes]

Monroe made his way slowly up the hall, watching a nurse go into one of the rooms. He thought the figure looked a lot like Zain, but kept walking. He walked to the end of the hall, looking out the window. He looked at his hospital band, reading over it. 'HUGHES, MONROE O. NEURO WING. ROOM 168-C.' He turned it around, reading the medicines they had him on before he leaned against the window sill.

[zain marshal rhoston]

Zain closed his eyes slowly as they sedated him, trying to get his lungs to cooperate so they wouldn't give out. His body relaxed into shallow sleep as a nurse left and called to someone that they needed a respiratory machine for Zain Rhoster's room just in case.

[monroe owen hughes]

Monroe started back, glancing into the room again. He stopped, chewing on his lip. He looked like Zain. But he didn't know if he was Zain. He walked slowly over to him, reaching over to brush his hair back. He looked a lot worse than Monroe felt, and he started to feel guilty. He sat down in the chair next to him, reaching over to rub his arm.

"It's okay.." He whispered, pulling his crutches into his lap. He moved closer, stroking his hair gently.

[zain marshal rhoston]

Zain stirred at the touch, mumbling Monroe's name under his breath, tears dripping down his face. Gradually he quieted, breaths quick and forced beneath the oxygen mask. His wrist was braced, a nurse pricking his right side gently to try and get any reaction from the damaged nerves. The monitor slowed as his breaths began to, and she worked a back brace on over his bare chest to help with everything. "He should wake up soon." With that, she left.

[monroe owen hughes]

"That's okay. He can sleep.." He mumbled, running his fingers slowly through his hair. He wished he could just get over him, but he couldn't. All he could do was pretend he didn't care. 'He made it clear he didn't like you, in any sense of the word.' He thought, and leaned back in his chair. He reached up, rubbing his broken nose. It wasn't until now he realized he had a deep gash on his cheek, and a shallower one on his temple. He closed his eyes, folding his hands over his stomach. 'Just let him sleep..'

[zain marshal rhoston]

Zain stirred in discomfort, tugging at one of the bands from the back brace that wrapped over his shoulder. He reached his left hand up to rub carefully at his face. Bumps and bruises, cuts, were to be expected. Monroe being there alive wasn't. He stared at him quietly, swallowing. 'Fucking idiot! You want to die? We can do that.' Monroe didn't want him...he was nothing more than a sex addicted fuck up. He closed his eyes, trying to feign sleep. But he knew his shaky breath gave it away.

[monroe owen hughes]

Monroe heard him breathing and thought he must be crying. He sat up straighter in his chair, looking over at him. "You don't have to cry.." He mumbled, trying to keep any emotion out of his voice. He didn't want Zain to know he still cared, was okay with him assuming he just hated him. "You didn't die like you wanted to. There's always tomorrow." But his voice cracked. 'Im just getting him him back and I'm already pushing him away.' He thought, biting down hard on his lip. But it hurt, his teeth sensitive.

He reached over, gently running his fingers over Zain's hand. "You're gonna be okay.."

[zain marshal rhoston]

Tears spilled over at the words. Always tomorrow... He really didn't want him. "There's always right now," He whispered, gazing at him brokenly, hurt. He didn't care... Nobody cared. Rolling over some, he reached for the medical supplies on the table desperately, trying to find a drug strong enough to kill him. He didn't want to be okay. Being okay meant hiding the broken. Hiding how hurt he was by yet another rejection. He had got his hopes up too high, had thought he found somebody who might care. But now it didn't seem like that at all.