07

“Count back from ninety and when you wake up next, you’ll be good as new,” the old doctor says with a confident smile, reassuring and kind.

The room isn’t cold, but it feels like it. Blue and steel, sterile. Many people around, completely covered, Jackson can only see their eyes. He doesn’t feel calm, he is still scared, terrified of what it’ll feel to see Mark the next time. The doctor reassures him the surgery will be done in no time and in a few days he’ll be cleared up and will walk back home.

However, Jackson made his mind. He knows Mark will never love him and he will not die to hold on to his feelings. Jackson is trying to get better and he’ll figure out how to continue his friendship with Mark after the tumour is gone. After he stops coughing petals covered in blood.

“Ninety, eighty-nine, eighty-eight…” Jackson begins, and quickly he starts to feel tired, his eyelids heavy. His counting matches the beep of his heartbeats marked by the machines.

Beep… beep… beep…

Beep…beep…

Beep…

Beep…

Beep…

And Jackson is sound asleep.