Silver and Gold
Pavitr sat glumly on the operating table, fluorescent lights shining ominously down on him. The adults had left and Hobie was sitting in one of the extra chairs, ranting to him about Felix and how cool it was that he wasn’t the only spiderman who was- had been punk and…
The medic walked in, greeting them and forcing useless small talk. But Pavitr wasn’t paying attention. His eyes drifted down to the two prosthetic legs she was using to walk, it was almost surreal seeing her function in this way.
“Sir?”
Pavitr blinked.
Oh, right. He held up his arm, groaning loudly when she pressed on the bruised areas. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hobie squeeze his fist over and over again. The medic left for a moment, grabbing something or the other.
They looked at each other, Pavitr smiled awkwardly, trying to loosen the worry knit so tightly in the air. The medic returned with an X-ray machine, blocking Hobie as she worked on setting it up near his arm. All of a sudden she stopped. Her mechanical legs silently working to kneel down in front of him.
“I think the best option for you would be a prosthetic…” she trailed on and on, speaking in that uncomfortable babying tone teachers use. But Pavitr’s mind stayed right there. His whole world had halted, pinpointing down into that single moment and revolving around it. There was only so much he could take in a week. And this. This was the fucking limit.
“Get out.” he spat.
The doctor made to move.
“Not you. Him.” Pavitr said to Hobie, his mind betraying his voice.
Hobie, who had been getting progressively more panicked throughout the entire trip, looked up at Pavitr. But his eyes weren’t ones of judgment or even rage, they were understanding. Kind.
Hobie got up to leave, but not before throwing his vest at Pavitr, who was regretting his decision with every passing second. When the door shut softly behind him, the doctor began to speak again. Informing him that the surgery should happen as soon as possible. Pavitr felt the world spin around him, his entire life was being flipped upside down by the second. He nodded distantly, feeling the cold, cruel machines being hooked around him. Pavitr wanted to rip them all off and run far away, back to where it all started. Back to her.
He felt himself begin to trace the embroidered patches that lined Hobie’s vest while the anesthesia slowly pulled him under, his eyelids getting heavier and heavier.
Just Relax.
It had been an hour since Pav had kicked Hobie out. I mean it was fully warranted, and he had plenty of reason to do so, but it still stung. Weren’t they best friends or something like that? Was it that he didn’t trust Hobie? Was he doing something wrong?
Denzel and Felix had sent him on a couple missions to pass the time, but now that he had returned, he was beginning to wonder why exactly Pavitr was taking so long. He needed to at least check up on him. Maybe Hobie’d get lucky and he’d be in a better mood this time.
Hobie shoved the nurse behind him, slamming his side into the door. He was having surgery. He was having surgery and he didn’t even think to tell him. His rage only increased when the door refused to budge. Hobie bent to peer through the small window, the cheap lights flickering around him. Hobie felt his blood run hot and then go cold again when he saw the way Pavitr’s hands curled softly around his vest.
He should’ve stayed. Why didn’t he stay? Pavitr wasn’t even in his right senses yet so why did Hobie listen to him? Just last night he was drained from crying. He didn’t even have anything substantial to eat. He felt himself begin to sink into a cycle of worry, were you supposed to go into surgery like that?
The nurse touched Hobie’s shoulder and he nudged her hand away, forcing a tight smile. He moved to sit down in the waiting room, foot anxiously thumping on the ground.