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Brick
By: Happiness’s Deceit
Work Time: 45 minutes
Jin yawned; this was extremely dull. He blinked a bit as he heard a light, quipping affirmative, and looked towards the door.
There was a small boy, perhaps a foot shorter than he—so short, in fact, that Jin would have mistaken him for a child. The only thing that dissuaded that particular opinion was the fact that minors were not technically allowed to be held in this same wing.
The nurse motioned Jin over and the male…reluctantly complied. “Jin,” the woman hissed, “Soku has a lung condition. If he starts coughing, that’s it. Page a nurse immediately.” Jin sighed, and nodded. So much for having a grand time.
He was light blond, and in a wheelchair. Jin was a bit envious of that; he himself could barely move his arms, let alone his entire body. The boy was wheeled to the edge of the room, and gently placed on the bed that overlooked a tiny window.
Soku turned and smiled. “Hello, Jin. Pleasure.” His voice was bright, with a small English accent, and seemed achingly chipper for this time of day.
Jin must have grunted something back. He must have; he just wasn’t aware of what it was he said.
Whatever it was, it must have been good, for the other male beamed and turned his eyes out the open window.
“Wow,” Soku said, “the view is lovely.”
Jin rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he said, “the view is so freaking-fantastic that it is simply a coincidence that the hospital directors decided to put one there.” He knew he was being unkind, but really, who cared?
Soku seemed to take him a little too literally, for he answered, “That’s great! Some coincidence, huh?” He looked out the window again, a dreamy look on his face. Jin had the urge to smack upside the head, but that would require him to move, which he couldn’t do.
It really was the last straw, however, when that boy sighed again. What, was he rooming with a woman?
Before Soku could sigh again, Jin interrupted. “Why don’t you just describe it for me? You know, since I can’t see out of that tiny thing?”
Soku smiled at him and began to describe: the laughing children on the street, the warm colors of the setting sun, the parking lot filled with chattering people, the bench in the nearby park with a woman on it, the cooing pigeons…
Jin began to ache to see these visions. It had been terribly long since he had even seen the outside. Just a peek wouldn’t hurt…he convinced himself. A peek out that window, just to see those sights once, wouldn’t be terrible.
He opened his mouth to ask Soku to switch beds with him, but was stunned to see the rhythmic breathing of the other sleeping male. Oh well, he thought, tomorrow was another day.
Days passed, and then seasons, but Jin did not ask to switch beds—instead, every day, he listened to the vivid pictures of the outside world, the world he longed to return to.
His roommate died, and the man asked to be moved to the window. The window’s curtains were closed, and he sat there, reveling in his new position before drawing the curtains open.
Jin now slept, and woke for the single goal of being able to hear the boy describe the beauty of the land beyond that tiny window.
He wanted so badly to be in that place, and one night, his chance came.
Soku was coughing, badly, and Jin remembered his warning that first day.
—“Soku has a lung condition. If he starts coughing, that’s it. Page a nurse immediately.”—
Jin grinned maliciously. He would not call a nurse. He wouldn’t, not when a chance to be the one looking out that window. So he sat there, as the coughing got worse, and as blood began to drip from the other boy’s bed.
When he was convinced that the Soku was dead, Jin let out a wail. A night nurse came rushing in, and she tried to calm him as another looked over Soku. Jin knew he would be believed, he had to be—he had to be believed, if only to see the outside world.
“—he was okay when I fell asleep, and then I heard this raspy sound and woke up and there he was, on the ground and—ohmigod—there was so much blood and it was so scary and I hope he’s not dead—please tell me he’s not dead—”
The first nurse looked at her fellow nurse, and seeing a shaken head, she pat his head. “Jin…Soku is dead, but this is not your fault, do you understand?”
Jin screamed. “I killed him! I killed him because I couldn’t get to him in time!” It wasn’t utter untruth, Jin thought. It wasn’t utter untruth.
The nurse calmed him, but it wasn’t until four hours later, after Soku had been moved, and his sheets cleaned that Jin asked quietly, “May I be moved to Soku’s bed? Please, I don’t want to…forget him…”
The nurse agreed, and as she walked out, he heard her comment. “I heard that that Jin boy was a terrible person. But he’s so shaken up by his friend’s death that I find it hard to believe he’s really such a bad person.”
Jin smirked at her retreating figure. If only the woman knew…but enough of that. Jin turned to the window, whose curtains had been shut and with a breath of anticipation, slid them open.
Jin looked at the bed of the dead man, and for the first time, cried at the cruelty of the world.
