“No. But his sister's on her way. I'm the boyfriend.” I looked past her to where they were securing Soren's stretcher. “Please. I need to be there.”
She studied me for a second, and I saw her read the desperation on my face. “You can ride with us. But you need to stay out of the way and let us work.”
I climbed in without arguing and pressed myself against the wall while they worked on him. IV lines, oxygen mask, monitoring equipment that beeped in patterns I didn't understand. They were talking in medical shorthand that meant nothing to me, calling out numbers and terms that sounded urgent.
All I could see was Soren's face, pale and still under the oxygen mask, and his hand lying limp on the stretcher.
I wanted to hold it. Wanted to tell him I was here, that he wasn't alone, that he needed to fight. But the paramedics were between us, and all I could do was watch.
The ride to the hospital felt like it lasted hours and seconds simultaneously. Every bump in the road made me flinch, every beep from the monitors made my pulse spike, and the paramedics' controlled urgency made it clear that this was serious in ways I couldn't fully process.
We pulled into the emergency bay, and they moved fast, wheeling him out and through automatic doors that said “EMERGENCY” in bright red letters. I followed until a nurse stopped me with a hand on my chest.
“You need to wait here. We'll update you as soon as we can.”
“But—”
“Sir, you need to let us do our job.” Her voice was firm but not unkind. “There's a waiting room through those doors. Someone will come find you.”
She disappeared through the doors where they'd taken Soren, and I stood there in the hallway feeling completely useless.
The waiting room was too bright, full of uncomfortable chairs and outdated magazines and a TV playing the news onmute. I sat down because standing felt impossible, and my hands were still shaking.
He'd looked so small on that stretcher. So fragile. The Soren I knew was all warmth and energy and life, and seeing him unconscious and barely breathing had been like watching the world tilt sideways.
I pulled out my phone and texted Talia.
Rook
At the hospital. Toronto General. They took him back. No update yet.
Talia
10 minutes away. Is he?—
Rook
Just get here.
My parents arrived first, both of them looking worried and slightly out of breath from rushing. My mom pulled me into a hug without asking questions, and I let myself lean into her for a second before pulling back.
“What happened?” my dad asked quietly.
“He overdosed.” The words felt mechanical, like I was reporting a game score instead of the worst thing I'd ever experienced. “I found him unconscious in his bed.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” My mom's hand was on my shoulder, grounding.
I couldn't look at her. “We had a fight. I said things I didn't mean and pushed him away, and then everything with his family got worse, and I wasn't there. I should have been there.”
“This isn't your fault,” she said firmly. “Whatever led to this, it's not on you.”
“Feels like it is.”
She didn't argue, just sat down next to me and kept her hand on my shoulder while we waited.
Talia arrived ten minutes later with Micah and Poppy behind her, all of them looking pale and scared. Talia's eyes found mine immediately.
“Any news?”
