The faint rings of gold and green in his hazel eyes are familiar and comforting. I want to ask him to call for a defibrillator or just hold me and squeeze hard until I can breathe again.
Two people in scrubs enter the room and ask Will to step back while they attempt to bring me down from what one of them says is another panic attack. The smaller woman studies the numbers and jumping lines on the machine and suggests another dose of whatever they gave me when I first got here, which makes me panic more. I try to sit up, but I’m pressed into the bed by two sets of hands.
The remainder of the air in my body expels in a long string of nearly unintelligible words. “No. No. I need to stay awake for Jesse. Someone needs to help Jesse. He’s not going to help him. Please. Don’t!”
I’m shaking my head back and forth adamantly. I can’t make out what they’re saying through the blood rushing in my ears and my own panicked rambling, but I hear Francis say something, then Will yelling at him. There’s more commotion. Another person in scrubs arrives with a syringe that she attaches to the tube taped to the inside of my arm, even as I plead for her not to.
Warmth spreads through my veins. My limbs grow heavy, like the bed is holding me down instead of the hands that were pressed against me seconds ago. The blackness that was threatening the edges of my vision clears, but a fuzziness takes its place.
Someone is still yelling, but the sound contorts and slows down. I’m floating, swimming, in some kind of vortex. I’m dizzy.
Part of me is aware enough to know I need to keep my eyes on something stationary when I’m spinning so I don’t get sick, but then I can’t remember where I am or why I’m spinning. I just know that I’m heavy. How can I float when I feel so heavy?
I wish Will were here to hold me down so I can’t float away. Someone needs to be here for Jesse.
When I wake again, the room is dimly lit, and there’s a heavy warm body cradling me from behind. I let out a shaky, tearful breath and sink into the comfort.
“Will,” I say, his name a relieved breathy exhale.
“I’m here, baby.” He must be exhausted. He only ever calls me baby by accident, when he’s tired or fucked up. I’m not even sure he realizes he does it, and I’ll never point it out because he might not say it again.
My tongue is too big and sticking to the roof of my mouth, making my speech slur. “Where’d everyone go?”
“It’s just us,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of my head. “That tiny scary nurse told us all off for upsetting you and cut your allowed visitors down to one. Mr. Holland escorted Francis out and said he’d check on Jesse.”
He must feel the way my heart lurches at the sound of Jesse’s name, because his arms tighten around me. “He’s okay, Ari. Jesse is okay. He’s stable, and he’s awake, probably thanks to you. Francis tried to make out like you were deranged or something, but Mr. Holland believed you. He had Cory search Francis’ company car and Eric search his hotel room. Theyfound all the bottles he was hiding so they could make a list of anything he might have taken.”
Like a demon needing to be exorcised, the tension and fear drain from my body in exaggerated sobs. It takes several minutes for me to stop crying but Will holds me through it, whispering that we’re all okay.
“What happened?” Will asks gently.
My eyelids clench at the onslaught of memories of finding Jesse passed out in the living room of our penthouse suite. Broken glass everywhere, and blood. I’m not sure what happened exactly. I just know I couldn’t wake him up, and he didn’t seem to be breathing.
I choke back a sob, still feeling the soreness in my throat from how hard I screamed for help. Cory ran in moments later, with Eric on his heels. Eric had to pull me away so Cory could give Jesse CPR. He had to hold me back with one arm around my waist while he used his free hand to dial 911.
I couldn’t breathe or see anything past my friend on the floor in front of me. I thought he was dead, and I thought I was next because my chest was exploding. It wasn’t like any panic attack I’d had before, where it felt like everything in me was being squeezed so tightly it might burst. Instead, there wasn’t enough room in my chest. I couldn’t take a breath because my lungs were already filled to capacity. And all I could see through my blurry tears as the blackness started to take over was the shape of Jesse’s lifeless body jerking with each compression.
Through my tears, I tell Will everything I remember until the point they sedated me again.
“Everyone’s okay now,” he soothes, his breath warm on the side of my face. “It’s going to be okay. I have a feeling things are going to be a little different for a while, but it’s going to be okay.”
Because he always knows exactly what I need, Will repeats that everyone’s okay again and again until I’m able to relax enough to fall back asleep.
THREE
WILL
I stare at Jesse’s sleeping form, listening to the sound of the heart monitor beeping steadily. Unlike when I was listening to Ari’s monitor, I’m not worrying that the beeping is coming too fast or watching the lines on the screen jump, I’m grateful to hear anything at all.
They took the tube out of his throat earlier today. He was awake for a while afterward, groggy and hoarse, eyes glassy as he tried to focus on me. The only thing he managed to get out was a raspy apology that barely qualified as a word. Then he fell back asleep, chest rising and falling on its own. I’ve still been watching the movement closely, listening to every beep, in case it stops.
Jesse didn’t overdose as we originally thought. Not exactly. He definitely had too many sleeping pills and more in his system, which contributed to a more dangerous outcome when he tripped over the coffee table and hit his head. The impact triggered a seizure.
“Acute symptomatic seizure due to polypharmacy, substance use, and head trauma,” is what the doctor said. A lot of words tosay he got lucky someone found him when they did. A couple of minutes later and it could have been too late.
He's alive. That’s all that matters. Fuck this band, fuck the fame, fuck everything else.
Ari was discharged two days ago. He, Naz, me, and Mr. Holland have all been taking shifts to stay with Jesse, and there’s always a bodyguard outside the door. Usually we come in pairs, and Jesse’s mom is here most of the time, too. But Naz went to get something to eat, and Ms. Moore went home for a shower, so it’s just been me most of the morning.
