just_muse_me | 28.2.1. A problem shared is a problem halved
28.2.1. A problem shared is a problem halved
Co-written with sexyinscrubs
[Follows THIS, THIS and THIS]
Cameron was sitting as close to his twin's hospital bed as he could get. He had lost track of how long he had been sitting there for now, but he knew he would stay there as long as it took. He had no idea what had happened, but it really didn't matter. He just wanted Pat to be okay when he woke up. He had been medicated for some time now. There was one thing having people tell you to relax and it would all be okay, but it was entirely another to manage to do it. He was waking now, though, so Cameron wrapped his hands around one of Pat's, squeezing it softly. "Patto, it's Cam. Listen to me, buddy. It's going to be okay. Aiden's going to be okay..." he told him, trying to stay calm. He wanted Pat to have the information he needed straight away, even if he had to repeat it a hundred times. Pat was awake, his eyes were opening, but Cameron had no idea how he would react or if he was cognitive enough to comprehend the words. It could go either way. But when all Pat did was start to cry, Cameron wished to God it didn't have to be that reaction, because it felt like his heart was crushing and that helpless, aching feeling started to set in with a vengeance.
He tried to shift closer, but being stuck in a wheelchair with a fucked knee, it was impossible. After a bare moment of thought, though, he took his weight on his good leg and carefully maneuvered himself to sit on the side of Pat's bed. He put his injured leg up on the wheelchair he had just vacated so he at least was still following doctor's orders, and then with a small, hushed expletive, leaned over to give his brother a hug the best he could. It wasn't easy. Pat was still in a neck brace, and had all those horrible tubes and wires connected to him, but Cameron wasn't just going to let him lie there and cry. "Talk to me, buddy," he urged, tearing up himself. "I can't help if you don't talk to me. Are you in pain? Do you need anything? Aiden's out of surgery. They fixed the cut in his throat, but he needed a transfusion and he's, um, he's not awake, but they said it could take a few days for him to get some strength back after losing all that blood. He's really hurt, but they say he'll get better. I-I don't know anything else, buddy. The medical side of things, you know I'm fucked with it all. I don't understand it. Tara and Lachlan are with him, though, and wee RJ. They're staying with him."
"It's my fault," Patrick managed to get out through a gasping sob that caught in his throat. "I-It's my fault he's hurt! He was dying! H-He was... I was losing him..." Everything hurt and it was hard to talk. He didn't want to be awake because it hurt too much, but he didn't think he deserved to be asleep, either. There was a deep aching loss in his chest that came with the realisation that he wasn't going to be able to see Aiden straight away, too, he wasn't going to be able to see for sure that he was still alive.
Cameron was crushed, and it felt even more heavy when he knew just couldn't take Pat's pain away. He stayed close, just holding him. "He didn't die, Pat! He's alive. He is. What can I do to convince you? You saved his life! If you didn't do whatever you did in that car, he would be dead. You've got to know that, buddy. It's not your fault. How can you possibly think it's your fault? It was an accident. That's all it was!"
Patrick just started crying harder, like he wasn't ever going to be able to stop. "No... no... it was me. I-I shouldn't have been driving. T-There were symptoms... we w-were fighting... then I couldn't... my legs... I-I think I p-passed out. Lost control of the car." His face crumpled as it became harder and harder to maintain the train of thought. "W-When I woke up, he was... he was..." The images of Aiden unmoving, slumped beside him, covered in blood rushed back to him and a retch caught in his throat, but he fought it back. His words were coming out slurred and disjointed. He didn't even know if he was making sense.
Cameron sat back just a little so he could see Pat's face. He watched his brother, the distraught tears streaming down his face cutting him deep inside. "I can't buy for a minute that you would have gotten behind the wheel if the symptoms were bad. How bad? Patto, this isn't your fault. Please, buddy. You can't blame yourself for this. It was just... you can't... you can't just not live your life, okay?" he said, a desperate plea behind his words. "We all get sick, this could have happened to anyone. Look at what happened to Tara, with RJ. Do you think that was her fault? Fuck... God... Patto, please. If you stress out anymore, you might not get better, and I know it's selfish, but I can't watch you do this do yourself. Stop, please, please stop. What's he got to even bother waking up for if you're going to check out and give up?"
A sob caught it Patrick's throat as Cameron's words felt like they hit him like a tonne of bricks. It was a struggle, trying to fight the urge to do just that. Give up, pack it all in. Fighting the illness burning through him just felt like too much, he didn't have the energy anymore. But after a few ragged breaths, biting down on his lip until he could taste blood, he managed to fight the panicked tears until they eased and were just trickling down his cheeks. He opened his eyes again to see his brother, the bright light of the hospital room stinging them. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse, but the words were still slurred, the disease within him attacking even the most simple of actions most people took for granted. He swallowed to try and wet his throat, but it was no aid to controlling his speech. He hated this, he hated losing control. "We were fighting," he got out, closing his eyes again. He pressed his dry lips together, tentatively trying to send some signals to his legs when he tried to move them. It was no use. He couldn't feel them, and the whole of his left arm was prickling and tingling with pins and needles, like he had been sleeping on it funny. "No... no... we weren't. He was... just trying t-to talk to me," he said slowly, purposefully, though still managing to just sound like he was drunk. He remembered the time in the early days of his diagnosis when he was having symptoms. He actually got accused of being drunk in a pharmacy and they wouldn't serve him. It had been a low blow, until Lachlan swooped in and tore the pharmacist a new one. "About kids. I just... didn't even give him a chance. He was trying to convince me... t-that we could live normally with... with..." His face filled with pain again and he put a hand up to weakly cover his face, another small sob escaping as more tears spilled over. "Normally? He's nearly dead because of it!" he snapped through a burst of anger that crept up on him before he could stop it.
With every rise and dip in Pat's emotions, Cameron felt he was right alongside him on the horrible rollercoaster. In fact, his gut was churning just like he was stuck on a rollercoaster from hell. It made all his own problems feel like bullshit, but that was only because he would literally sacrifice himself for his twin if he ever had to. He just was never good at this sort of thing. He never really had the right words like Lachlan did, in fact in emotional scenarios, he usually just sat there like a stunned mullet, floundering for a way - any way - to help or ease the pain. Even now, he just sat there for a long few moments, his hand restlessly curling and uncurling around Pat's hand. "But he's not," he finally mumbled, swallowing as he fought the urge to start sobbing himself. "And you're not. You're both still alive and... and being a dad just... it stops all the shit hurting so bad. It reminds you that there is a reason to stop and just... be glad you're alive."
Pat blinked away the tears, his blue eyes locked on his brother's face as he spoke. He had never in his life heard his twin talk like that, indicate in any way that children could ever change his life. Until now, the words were falling out of his mouth and could only be coming from his heart after what he had been through to meet fatherhood in the face as full-on as he could manage. With a small burst of strength, he clutched his hand around Cameron's fingers. "Tell me it's worth it," he begged in a whisper. "Please."
"It's worth it," Cameron returned immediately through a rush of breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. He felt the truth behind the confirmation, an image of his new twin boys jumping into his mind and giving him some strength to try and help his own twin brother through his heartache. He leaned over, carefully picking up the comforting embrace where it had left off a few minutes before, somehow trying to shield his brother from anymore shit life seemed to want to throw at him. "It's worth everything."
Word Count | 1,647
Co-written with sexyinscrubs
[Follows THIS, THIS and THIS]
Cameron was sitting as close to his twin's hospital bed as he could get. He had lost track of how long he had been sitting there for now, but he knew he would stay there as long as it took. He had no idea what had happened, but it really didn't matter. He just wanted Pat to be okay when he woke up. He had been medicated for some time now. There was one thing having people tell you to relax and it would all be okay, but it was entirely another to manage to do it. He was waking now, though, so Cameron wrapped his hands around one of Pat's, squeezing it softly. "Patto, it's Cam. Listen to me, buddy. It's going to be okay. Aiden's going to be okay..." he told him, trying to stay calm. He wanted Pat to have the information he needed straight away, even if he had to repeat it a hundred times. Pat was awake, his eyes were opening, but Cameron had no idea how he would react or if he was cognitive enough to comprehend the words. It could go either way. But when all Pat did was start to cry, Cameron wished to God it didn't have to be that reaction, because it felt like his heart was crushing and that helpless, aching feeling started to set in with a vengeance.
He tried to shift closer, but being stuck in a wheelchair with a fucked knee, it was impossible. After a bare moment of thought, though, he took his weight on his good leg and carefully maneuvered himself to sit on the side of Pat's bed. He put his injured leg up on the wheelchair he had just vacated so he at least was still following doctor's orders, and then with a small, hushed expletive, leaned over to give his brother a hug the best he could. It wasn't easy. Pat was still in a neck brace, and had all those horrible tubes and wires connected to him, but Cameron wasn't just going to let him lie there and cry. "Talk to me, buddy," he urged, tearing up himself. "I can't help if you don't talk to me. Are you in pain? Do you need anything? Aiden's out of surgery. They fixed the cut in his throat, but he needed a transfusion and he's, um, he's not awake, but they said it could take a few days for him to get some strength back after losing all that blood. He's really hurt, but they say he'll get better. I-I don't know anything else, buddy. The medical side of things, you know I'm fucked with it all. I don't understand it. Tara and Lachlan are with him, though, and wee RJ. They're staying with him."
"It's my fault," Patrick managed to get out through a gasping sob that caught in his throat. "I-It's my fault he's hurt! He was dying! H-He was... I was losing him..." Everything hurt and it was hard to talk. He didn't want to be awake because it hurt too much, but he didn't think he deserved to be asleep, either. There was a deep aching loss in his chest that came with the realisation that he wasn't going to be able to see Aiden straight away, too, he wasn't going to be able to see for sure that he was still alive.
Cameron was crushed, and it felt even more heavy when he knew just couldn't take Pat's pain away. He stayed close, just holding him. "He didn't die, Pat! He's alive. He is. What can I do to convince you? You saved his life! If you didn't do whatever you did in that car, he would be dead. You've got to know that, buddy. It's not your fault. How can you possibly think it's your fault? It was an accident. That's all it was!"
Patrick just started crying harder, like he wasn't ever going to be able to stop. "No... no... it was me. I-I shouldn't have been driving. T-There were symptoms... we w-were fighting... then I couldn't... my legs... I-I think I p-passed out. Lost control of the car." His face crumpled as it became harder and harder to maintain the train of thought. "W-When I woke up, he was... he was..." The images of Aiden unmoving, slumped beside him, covered in blood rushed back to him and a retch caught in his throat, but he fought it back. His words were coming out slurred and disjointed. He didn't even know if he was making sense.
Cameron sat back just a little so he could see Pat's face. He watched his brother, the distraught tears streaming down his face cutting him deep inside. "I can't buy for a minute that you would have gotten behind the wheel if the symptoms were bad. How bad? Patto, this isn't your fault. Please, buddy. You can't blame yourself for this. It was just... you can't... you can't just not live your life, okay?" he said, a desperate plea behind his words. "We all get sick, this could have happened to anyone. Look at what happened to Tara, with RJ. Do you think that was her fault? Fuck... God... Patto, please. If you stress out anymore, you might not get better, and I know it's selfish, but I can't watch you do this do yourself. Stop, please, please stop. What's he got to even bother waking up for if you're going to check out and give up?"
A sob caught it Patrick's throat as Cameron's words felt like they hit him like a tonne of bricks. It was a struggle, trying to fight the urge to do just that. Give up, pack it all in. Fighting the illness burning through him just felt like too much, he didn't have the energy anymore. But after a few ragged breaths, biting down on his lip until he could taste blood, he managed to fight the panicked tears until they eased and were just trickling down his cheeks. He opened his eyes again to see his brother, the bright light of the hospital room stinging them. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse, but the words were still slurred, the disease within him attacking even the most simple of actions most people took for granted. He swallowed to try and wet his throat, but it was no aid to controlling his speech. He hated this, he hated losing control. "We were fighting," he got out, closing his eyes again. He pressed his dry lips together, tentatively trying to send some signals to his legs when he tried to move them. It was no use. He couldn't feel them, and the whole of his left arm was prickling and tingling with pins and needles, like he had been sleeping on it funny. "No... no... we weren't. He was... just trying t-to talk to me," he said slowly, purposefully, though still managing to just sound like he was drunk. He remembered the time in the early days of his diagnosis when he was having symptoms. He actually got accused of being drunk in a pharmacy and they wouldn't serve him. It had been a low blow, until Lachlan swooped in and tore the pharmacist a new one. "About kids. I just... didn't even give him a chance. He was trying to convince me... t-that we could live normally with... with..." His face filled with pain again and he put a hand up to weakly cover his face, another small sob escaping as more tears spilled over. "Normally? He's nearly dead because of it!" he snapped through a burst of anger that crept up on him before he could stop it.
With every rise and dip in Pat's emotions, Cameron felt he was right alongside him on the horrible rollercoaster. In fact, his gut was churning just like he was stuck on a rollercoaster from hell. It made all his own problems feel like bullshit, but that was only because he would literally sacrifice himself for his twin if he ever had to. He just was never good at this sort of thing. He never really had the right words like Lachlan did, in fact in emotional scenarios, he usually just sat there like a stunned mullet, floundering for a way - any way - to help or ease the pain. Even now, he just sat there for a long few moments, his hand restlessly curling and uncurling around Pat's hand. "But he's not," he finally mumbled, swallowing as he fought the urge to start sobbing himself. "And you're not. You're both still alive and... and being a dad just... it stops all the shit hurting so bad. It reminds you that there is a reason to stop and just... be glad you're alive."
Pat blinked away the tears, his blue eyes locked on his brother's face as he spoke. He had never in his life heard his twin talk like that, indicate in any way that children could ever change his life. Until now, the words were falling out of his mouth and could only be coming from his heart after what he had been through to meet fatherhood in the face as full-on as he could manage. With a small burst of strength, he clutched his hand around Cameron's fingers. "Tell me it's worth it," he begged in a whisper. "Please."
"It's worth it," Cameron returned immediately through a rush of breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. He felt the truth behind the confirmation, an image of his new twin boys jumping into his mind and giving him some strength to try and help his own twin brother through his heartache. He leaned over, carefully picking up the comforting embrace where it had left off a few minutes before, somehow trying to shield his brother from anymore shit life seemed to want to throw at him. "It's worth everything."
Word Count | 1,647