{ ＰＬＥＡＳＥ ＳＡＶＥ ＭＥ } One on One

[Skull]

тнıs ıs ᴀ ρʀıνᴀтᴇ ʀσʟᴇ ρʟᴀʏ ғσʀ мᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴅρᴇɴ. ρʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴅσ ɴσт ρσsт ıғ ʏσυ ᴀʀᴇ ɴσт σɴᴇ σғ υs.


" It’s never so simple as black and white..."


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It's never so simple as black and white, to admit they’re dying, and to know there's nothing you can do about it.


It's never so simple as one two three, to let them be, to let them go. To give up is not an option, but neither is going on.

​

Saint Jones Hospice

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Saint Jones Hospice is set in an old building about one hundred years old. Once a church, then a school, and now a home for the dying. The building is divided up to four different quadrants within the same building, all are surrounding a central court yard that is simply a field of grass; one for the older and near immediate death patience, one for the quarantined patience, the third for long term patience, and the last for the few sad cases where the patience are under eighteen.


​

 

[Hatchet]

Pausing on the top step to the great stonework building, David stretched out a hand to touch the solid frame of the double doors. A sense of cool serenity radiated from the sanctuary, just as it always had and he hoped it always would, especially given the nature of the residents. Letting his arm fall, he pulled open one door and slipped in, sandal-shod feet making only a faint sound on the old, scratched wood floors. He tipped his head and smiled at Alice, the girl who signed in all visitors and volunteers. She was on the phone and knew him well enough that she didn’t interrupt the conversation, but did wave energetically. It sounded like overview questions for an incoming patient as David leaned over to sign the clipboard at the edge of the desk.


With a gentler wave than what Alice had greeted him with, David went into the building proper and hung a right, passing the rooms allotted to the elderly patient’s near the front of the building. The first door that opened onto the courtyard he took and found a family having a picnic out there and a couple of pairs that looked to be patients. Some were easily marked out by their age or the condition of their illness, but not everyone was in the ugliest stages of terminal conditions, no one was made to walk around in drab clothing, only subtly identified by custom wristbands or necklaces.


David had volunteered here before, and he was often paired with patients who didn’t always have people to come see them. Today he was meeting someone new, a youth named Dameon, and the fastest route to the corridor for the under-eighteens was through the courtyard. And, truthfully, David loved being outside more than anywhere else.

 

[Skull]

Dameon shrank farther into the pillows on his bed as the nurse left after giving him his daily injections of different antibiotics and such. Soon after they all ways made his head spin so he had asked the nurse to turn the lights off on her way out and she gladly had. Sitting in the near pitch black darkness now Dameon didn't move, letting the spinning of his head run its course. Once the spinning had stop, it didn't last more then a minute or so a majority of the time but this one was a little longer then normal, Dameon reached over to grab his sketch book off the table by his bed. Unlike a majority of the patience here Dameon was able to get around pretty easily and didn't seem to sick physically, but if you talked to him it was one of the first things you would notice about him. Pulling his legs up a bit he then flinched deciding to lay his legs back down as he started to sketch out what ever came to his mind.

 

[Hatchet]

If entering into the building gave a sense of peace, walking into the quarter allotted to the teenagers at the facility was finding a war between the bitterest despairs and the most vicious flavors of life, young people who battled each other between hating their inevitable deaths, or making the most of what was left. The last patient David had worked with had been more prone to depression turning to fits of fury that ended in fist fights.


Determined not to let sadness darken this first meeting, David tipped his face up to absorb a few more moments of the sun against his cocoa skin and then reentered the building. Some patients decorated their own doors and others had no interest. He found the one marked with the name ‘Dameon Salvitor’ and knocked lightly with his index knuckle. “Excuse me, I am looking for Dameon?” David did not speak very loudly, but his lightly accented voice carried in a deep tone so he did not have to.

 

[Skull]

Dameon blinked his eyes a few times as he was shocked out of his small drawing daze by a knock on his door. Lifting his head up a bit and closing the sketch book Dameon softly spoke a shaky 'Come in..." He knew his voice sounded weak and shaky but he all so knew it was better then what some people here could manage. He saw an unfimiler head poking around the door so he was curios who it could be that was here to see him of all people. Shrinking down against the pillows a bit more Dameon clutched the sketch book close to him and eyes the man. "W-Who are you?" Blinking a bit as he watched David by the door he let his long black hair fall in front of his face.


[ Sorry not to sure what to put. ]

 

[Hatchet]

Pushing the door open enough to see and be seen clearly, David did not step into the room proper but hooked his thumbs on his pockets and let his shoulders drop little, displaying a relaxed state. From Dameon's wary withdrawal, he assumed someone had failed to pass a memo. "Hi," he said simply and gently. "I'm David, I visit here and Doc Schaffer told me you could use company." Twisting his torso slightly, he angled his head down the dimly sunlit corrider. "It is a good day. Would you like to come outside?" There were some residents who could not go out; they were in the quarantined corridor and it hurt David's heart too much to spend time there.

 

[Skull]

Dameon blinked his eyes a little bit as he took in the sight of the man standing by the door. At the mention of the doctor Dameon looked down at his feet, he wasn't perticulaly fond of his doctor but there was nothing he could do about it. "I-I don't want to go outside..." When ever Dameon had steped outside something all way's seemed to go wrong and he didn't want anything to happen today. Pulling his legs up to his chest despite how badly that hurt him Dameon rested his chin on his knees. "You can come in though..." Blinking a few time's out of habit Dameon finally tilted his head to look at David. "But there's probably some people that need your company more then I do..." He knew he wasn't the worse one off here, at let he could still get around and talk still. "You don't have to-" Dameon coughed softly in the middle of the sentence and closed his eyes as he did. It took a moment after the cough for the pain in Dameon's chest to go away so he could finish the sentence, "You don't have to stay here with me."

 

[Hatchet]

Watching the younger male closely, David did step into the room proper at the invitation, but waited out the coughing fit for Dameon to continue with his deferment. “I am happy to keep you company,” he answered kindly, and it wasn’t untruthful. He enjoyed being around people, new and comfortable companions. “May I sit?” he asked gesturing to the end of the bed which was completely vacant as Dameon was huddled up in a spot as small as he could manage. Possibly David’s size was making him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t let things he couldn’t change bother him.

 

[Skull]

Dameon let out a small breath and slowly nodded his head as he tried to shrink even farther back against the pillows. "Y-You really don't have to though... There's probably so many other people that need company more then me..." Looking at David from behind his hair Dameon tilted a head to the side a bit as he studied the man. "I-Im n-not as b-bad off as so-some people he-ere..."

 

[Hatchet]

Smiling a little and leaning against the rigid metal frame of the bed’s footboard, David let his gaze drift about the room, mostly so Dameon wouldn’t feel under scrutiny than because he was interested in the decoration. “This is a good place to be,” he answered simply. “If you wish me to go, I will not make you uncomfortable, but this is where I choose to be.”


Reaching out to touch the corner of a piece of paper, it rustled quietly under David’s rough finger pads. “You like to draw?” Perhaps diverting his mind to a hobby of comfort would help Dameon’s stammer. David had a solid grasp of English by now, but it was a little difficult if he didn’t pay attention.

 

[Skull]

Dameon's breath caught as David's fingers brushed his papers and he snatched them away from him. "D-Don't touch th-that!" He hugged the sketch book full of papers close to himself and hid his face against his legs. "Don't touch it..." Dameon's sketch book was his most prized possession and he never showed anything in it to anyone. "Please... Don't..."

 

[Hatchet]

At the sharp, instinctive reaction from the other male David had jerked his arm back and slanted his dark gaze back at the boy, unintentionally holding his breath but nothing more violent followed and he exhaled. "I apologize," he murmured softly, locking his hands together on his knees. "I won't touch it again." He almost promised that he wouldn't touch Dameon either, but was unwilling to assume anything just then, no matter how overwrought the response had been. Giving the youth a drawn, searching look, David turned his root beer eyes back to the still partially opened door, canting his face down and waiting.


Silence was no enemy of his.

 

[Skull]

He shrunk in his spot, "J-Just please... D-don't touch it..." He hated it, he hated it more then anything when people touched his sketch book. After he manage to calm himself down a bit he let out a soft breath, "Im sorry... I... I just don't like anyone touching m-my sketch book... It's the o-only thing I have..." Another small coughing fit enveloped Dameon again once he had fallen silent and he sat there shaking and coughing for several long minutes.

 

[Hatchet]

Breathing in the calm of the sanctuary, idly designed to contain the noise of other inhabitants, David let the quiet linger a little longer, so Dameon could catch his breath and get a little more control over himself. When he did finally speak it was in a velvety low voice that drifted inoffensively in the still air. "My grandparents lived far away from my family when I was young, and papa was not very fond of small children. When they came to see us, gramma would play with us all day and papa would mostly talk to my father or find someplace quiet to read. I wanted papa to like me, mama said I was very much like him, but I didn't see how. When I was five, he left a pair of galoshes--ah, boots, rubber boots, and I protected them from my siblings, who would not have bothered them except that I was trying to keep them from everybody else."


Briefly David paused, remembering the last fight with Christoph that had left the scar through his eyebrow, repressing a smile. "When papa came again I gave them back. But after all that, they did not fit him, the reason he left them in the first place. He told me he left them for me to grow into." Angling his face towards Dameon, one side of his mouth lifted humorously. "He was a funny man. Are you all right?"

 

[Skull]

Dameon slowly caught his breath as David told his little story about some rubber boots or something like that. Once his breath was caught Dameon blinked his eyes and looked threw his hair with his light blue eyes. "I-I never knew my g-grandparents..." He whispered softly out of the blue.


[ Sorry writers block .-. ]

 

[Hatchet]

Noting the pale blue gaze lighting on him, David dipped his head, an encouraging motion, and his features shifted with sympathy. "I have only gramma now. My family was quite large, but is not so much now. I get rather lonely." Hitching one shoulder, he cast his eyes upward briefly, sweeping the little room, so like to many of the other private rooms in the facility. "So I come here, and it is almost the same, a big disjointed family where everyone's edges rub together." Laughing softly, David thought that yes, that's exactly what this place was.

 

[Skull]

Dameon's eyes shifted to look down at his bare feet as he softly whispers, "I don't have a family..." It was true. His real family had died when he was very young so he had never known them, that never really bothered him because of this, and his long term adoptive family had just recently given him up a few months ago so now... He was on his own. Dameon had no clue why he was even talking to this man, he rarely talked to anyone that came here to see him.

 

[Hatchet]

"You just have a different family now," David told him firmly in line with his preceding thoughts. "If you want it, at least. Do you wish for me not to talk about my family?" The last boy he had spent time with had been like that. He had a family, but he felt abandoned by them; he had liked David, but hated to hear of the happy unity he had once known. David wasn't here for that boy now, released from his suffering. He was here for Dameon. Impulsively, before the youth answered the last question, he asked, "Are your feet chilled?"

 

[Skull]

"Please... Lets not talk about it..." Dameon whispered softly and shook his head a bit, looking down at his feet as he wiggles his toes. "My feet are fine..." Dameon had long since gotten used to the coldness or the room, having been here for a little over a year now and never being able to leave due to the fact they couldn't figure out WHAT he had, all they knew was that it was slowly killing him. Dameon knew some where in the back of his mind that if he had a family, someone that cared, they would have long since found out what he had and started curing him for it. But he didn't. He didn't have family to pay all the expenses that the tests and then treatments would cost for him. As it was now they had just taken him in as a charity case to give him some where comfortable to live out what little of his life he had left.

 

[Hatchet]

Bobbing his head in acknowledgement of the soft plea, David also dropped his eyes to observe the fidgety toes. “As I said…” he stopped and looked at the boy’s concealed face again. He wasn’t interested in causing anyone distress, but it was obvious to David that Dameon needed company and friendship, and just as obvious that he wasn’t going to open himself up to it. David was six feet and three inches in height and broad, no longer lean with hunger and stress that had marked so many years of his youth.


Following the impulse, but remaining calm, David stood and scooped Dameon into his arms, the youth neatly curled to allow for the movement. Worse, he was as frail as he looked. “You need sunlight,” he stated with authority and kindness. “If not your feet, you must warm your mind.”

 

[Skull]

Dameon shrieked as he was picked up and tried to wiggle out of the older guys arms. "L-Let me go!" He whimpered in a scared voice as he started to shake. "I-I don't want to g-go outs-side!" Trying to wiggle away from the mans arms as he shook made Dameon start coughing, not a small cough like he was experiencing earlier but more of a hacking sound now. It wasn't a normal cough many would have and it was obviously painful for Dameon as he covered his face and coughed into his hands.

 

[Hatchet]

Rather than let the boy thrash himself to freedom, David just adjusted his hold to keep him pressed against his chest, and when Dameon began to cough, devolving into gut-deep rasps, David had to hold him a little tighter to keep from dropping him. Drawing in even breaths, he imagined the tranquility he felt emanating from the converted church flowing into his lungs, warming his limbs and seeping into the wracked youth he held both captive and secure.


“Your body naturally expels that which is bad for it, when it can,” David murmured when the fit began to subside to unpleasant wheezing. “If you remain in a cell, however hospitable, you are just breathing in the same poison again.” He did not shift to release Dameon but he didn’t move closer to the ajar door yet.

 

[Skull]

As the coughing turned into weezing Dameon tried to speak but was unable to intel long moment's after even the weezing had stopped. "S-Something bad al-always happens when I-I go outs-side... I want t-to sta-ay here..." With his body still shaking and weak from the coughing he tried to push away from the man once again, but this time the wiggling was feeble and wasn't more then a small moving of his arms.

 

[Hatchet]

“Well, you have never gone outside in my company,” David murmured, humor blended with sympathy. “What has happened outside that awakens such fear?” Some things needed pushing; some things needed coaxing; some things needed to grow in their own way. Until he was sure which, David would do no more without Dameon’s consent, but he would not step back and reinforce the uncontrolled behavior.

 

[Skull]

"J-Just put me d-down... Please..." He whimpered softly and shrunk as far away from David as he could manage without falling. "Please..." His voice was horse as he spoke and he looked down at the ground. The outside... It scared him. Scared him because everytime he had stepped foot outside something all ways happened to him or one of his friends. So he never left this room any more.


[ I have writers block sorry. ]