CHAPTER 066

CHAPTER 066
«JARVIS POINT OF VIEW»

Two days later, I landed in Toronto, Canada. With a bag hanging heavily on my shoulder, my head hidden beneath the hood of my sweater, and my hands stuffed deep into my pockets, I stepped out of the airport with my nerves coiled tight, every step heavy with the weight of anticipation. I quickly grabbed a cab, gave the driver my address, and sat back, trying so hard not to panic.

This wasn’t supposed to be like this. Visiting Tristan’s home… It was supposed to be casual, normal, not… this.

The car moved for an hour or so before stopping in front of a hospital parking lot. I froze, staring at the building like it was some foreign planet. My stomach churned, and for a moment, I wondered if I should just turn back, but curiosity and worry won. I stepped out, legs stiff, and walked toward the entrance.

I asked the lady at the desk for directions and then headed toward room 105. I checked the numbers carefully on each door, feeling my pulse thrum in my ears, until I finally came to a stop in front of 105.

My heart nearly leapt out of my chest as I twisted the door handle and stepped inside, and instantly, I was greeted with an unfamiliar sight.

“You’re here faster than I expected, kid.”

The man sitting on the chair spoke, but my attention was glued to the figure lying lifelessly on the hospital bed with the beeping machines surrounding him like guardians of a fragile life, each signal a cruel reminder that he was still alive. Tristan.

I took baby steps forward, my stomach twisting as his colorless face made my chest tighten painfully, and a wave of nausea crept over me. The oxygen tubes over his mouth and nose looked foreign and terrifying, the cuts on his skin raw and unhealed, his chest barely rising and falling with each shallow breath. How did this happen? My mind raced, trying to make sense of the nightmare before me.

The man’s voice broke through the haze of fear.

“How was your flight, kid?”

I barely registered the words, my focus still trapped on the fragile figure before me. My throat felt tight, and I swallowed hard, unsure how to answer, unsure how to even process what I was seeing. He shouldn’t look like this… Tristan shouldn’t be like this, should look so fucking dead. What the fuck even happened?

Slowly, my gaze shifted to Dr. Sean, sitting on the chair beside the bed. Only now did I notice his poor state; his white shirt, once crisp, was barely its color now, wrinkled and dulled. His jet-black hair stuck out in every direction, heavy bags etched under his eyes, and his face… It was worn and exhausted; every line on it screamed of sleepless nights. How long had he been sitting like that?

“You look awful. Have you slept at all?” I asked as I stepped closer and stood beside him. He just shrugged at my question.

“I barely slept before Tristan came along.”

I nodded in understanding as I lowered myself onto the bed beside the unconscious patient, careful not to touch him, my heart thudding painfully.

“How long has he been like this?” I asked, my voice barely steady. Dr. Sean’s grey eyes flickered toward Tristan’s pale features, darkening with a gloom that glinted with sadness.

“Six days,” he answered, his tone flat, almost too calm for the weight of those words.

I swallowed hard. “How did this happen?”

He let out a heavy sigh. “He panicked, rushed out, and got into a car with no brakes… and the accident happened.”

My stomach twisted at the thought. “And Dean?”

“The kid died. His skull… split. I couldn’t save him. Tristan believes he killed his brother.” The way the words left his lips was blankly; it was like he lost the ability to care as I watched him shrug again.

Poor Dean. The thought gnawed at me, a hollow ache that settled deep in my chest, but Tristan. How could he become like this? A car without brakes? That didn't make sense?

“What did the doctor say?” I asked.

“He’s comatose. It’s a 30/70 chance of survival. He could wake up in a day, a week, a month, or a year. He will suffer brain trauma and hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.”

Dr. Sean's demeanor was too calm for the state Tristan was in, while panic shot through me at the mere sight.

My eyes widened, my mind struggling to process the flood of medical terms. “What does that mean?” I nearly squealed.

Sean’s expression turned cold, his jaw tightening as he answered. “A condition in which the heart muscles become abnormally thick.”

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting. “What are the symptoms?”

“Chest pain, especially during hard work or any form of exercise, fainting, heart murmur, rapid heartbeats, and shortness of breath.”

My voice faltered. “Can’t it be cured?”

He shook his head slowly. “There’s no cure for HCM, and performing surgery is essentially a death wish for the patient.”

I turned my gaze toward Tristan, my chest tightening at the sight of him. My best friend… living every second with a ticking time bomb inside his chest. Especially with his temper, with the way he never holds back. It was awful and unimaginable.

My eyes flickered back to Sean, who kept staring at Tristan’s pale, motionless face. His expression was blank, hard, and almost unreadable. “Why don’t you take a break? I’ll look after him for a while.”

“Alright,” Sean replied softly.

With that, he stood, leaned over Tristan’s bed, and planted a gentle kiss on his cold forehead before strolling out.

I sighed heavily, shoulders slumping as I tossed my bag into the corner and took Sean’s seat beside the bed. Another deep sigh left me as I stared at Tristan’s unmoving face, my heart aching in the quiet.

“I remember how it was once me on that bed. How did we switch, and why is yours so life-threatening? I only got a broken leg. You could have just gotten a broken arm or something. Wake up soon… Sean looks worse than you. I don’t want to attend graduation without you. If you won’t be there, I’ll stay here to accompany you. I don’t want you to feel lonely.” My voice cracked, and I quickly wiped the tear that slowly slid down my face.

“I’m sorry for being a crybaby all the time. I—I just don’t want to stand there alone. We’re supposed to be there together… we studied hard for it.” I forced a shaky smile, trying to stay optimistic. “I’ll wait for you to wake up. We will stand there together.”

A small warmth settled in my chest as if he could hear me somehow.

“I’m going to be here for you, buddy.”