1 ~ The Weight of Being Dorian

DORIAN

Beep… beep… beep…

‘What the hell is that sound?’

Something was wrong with my body—it felt too still, too heavy, like I had been poured full of concrete.

The light bleeding through my eyelids felt like someone had shoved the sun into the room.

I cracked one eye open, my vision blurred around the edges. White ceiling. Blinking lights. A rhythmic beep that drilled into my skull.

‘Hospital?’

My throat was sandpaper. I tried to lift my arm, but something tugged at me—an IV line. It was cold against my skin.

‘Why was I here?’

My thoughts flickered—like a radio stuck between static and music, tuning in only to cut out again. There was a shadow in the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t turn my head fast enough to see who it was.

A dull ache bloomed behind my eyes. My heart lurched.

‘What happened to me?’

Then I heard it—someone breathing beside me. Quiet and waiting. A response, maybe.

And that’s when the dread settled low in my chest.

I wasn’t alone. But I wasn’t sure who was watching me either.

“Who are you?” I managed to ask, my voice shaking terribly, betraying the amount of courage I had managed to gather.

The figure moved from his seated position on the chair and came into my view.

Brown hair. Piercing eyes. Lips—full, flushed, dangerously magnetic. My brain stalled.

He waved at me, bringing me out of my imagination. “Hi, it's me. Ronan.”

His voice sank deep into my heart. That voice… It was soothing as hell. Beautiful. Magnetic. Soft.

“Do you care to eat something?” He asked, moving his hands towards me.

But, my stomach clenched. An invisible weight pressed on my chest. I tried to shift back, to pull away from him, but my limbs refused to obey.

“Who are you?” I asked again.

His eyes dropped, almost as if he was disappointed. It felt as though he had expected something much better from me and I had failed to give that in return.

‘Wait… Who am I?’

Names flashed through my mind like a broken slideshow—Michael? Arnold? Francesco? Alex? None of them felt right. None of them felt mine.

“You need rest.” He said, as he stood. My heart quickened but the sudden fear was unexpectedly replaced by his soft touch as he gently helped me tuck my hands inside the blanket.

“Is he awake?” A voice came from behind.

The guy swirled around and I was able to see the doctor walk in, accompanied by a nurse who was all smiles.

“He needs some more time to regroup. As I said earlier, that is part of his sickness’ symptoms.” The doctor explained, locking eyes with the nice guy with the brown eyes.

‘Sick?’

The word echoed. My heart thudded faster. I searched my memory like a man clawing at fog.

The doctor turned to me and placed the back of his right hand on my forehead. “Pretty normal. How are you feeling now, Dorian?”

‘Dorian? So that's my name? Beautiful!’

“I'm… I'm…”

My throat went dry all of a sudden. My mind went blank. What had the doctor asked?

‘Oh Lord!’

“You need some more time to rest, Dorian. Close your eyes.” The doctor said softly as his right hand swept my eyes shut. They remained there too.

‘Wait… What’s that?’

A cold sting kissed my arm, sharp and sudden. My eyelids, though heavy, fluttered. My muscles tensed instinctively. No… wait… My breath hitched.

“What... are you doing?” My voice was a ragged whisper, barely escaping my cracked lips.

A warmth spread through my veins—unnatural, and slow. My heartbeat thudded in my ears, louder now. I tried to lift my arm. It felt... disconnected. My thoughts blurred, slippery things I couldn’t hold on to.

“Don’t...” The word melted on my tongue.

Everything slipped sideways.

Darkness reached up… And, I couldn’t stop it.

*****

While I stirred, my eyes peeled open, greeted by the soft glow of stars blinking outside the window.

‘Where am I?’

White ceiling and blinking lights. The environment was no stranger at all. I jerked up immediately. I was in a hospital gown, lying in a bed I had come to despise.

The air reeked of antiseptic. The sheets clung to my skin. Every breath felt borrowed, like even the hospital didn’t want me here long.

This has become my life. But once—back when we still had money—things were different.

Once, our fridge hummed with leftovers and laughter.

But, everything had spiraled out of control and I had been left alone to look out for myself which I am obviously incapable of.

My best friend walked as cautiously as ever into the ward with a basket in his hand. As soon as he laid his eyes on me, a smile spread on his face but he didn't say anything. Then, I called his name.

“Ronan.”

His intoxicating brown eyes lit up as if he had expected me to call him first. He finally reached where I sat and dropped the basket on the cupboard.

I peeled his hands off me, trying to shake off the electric unease his touch left behind. He wouldn't believe what happens to me anytime he touches me.

“I want to leave here. I don't want to stay here.”

“You can't leave, Dorian. The doctor said you would be spending the night.” Replying with his soft manly voice, he tried to stop me from removing the IV line.

I gently pulled his hands off me, getting rid of the abnormal feeling. “Stop your little jokes. This is not the time for it.”

“I'm not.” He replied, blinking.

“You must be joking,” I said again, my voice low and sharp, like the edge of something ready to break.

“I understand health is wealth. But you can't possibly take care of her if you are not in a good condition.” He said, rather quickly.

“You know I can’t stay here, man,” I said, my voice tight with emotion. “My mom’s at home alone… and she’s sick. It’s cancer, Ronan. You know what that means.”

I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat, fighting the helplessness that was rising fast.

“I can barely afford two decent meals a day. Some days, I skip just so she can eat. If I stay here overnight, I will be burning the last bit of money I’ve been saving for her medication tomorrow.”

My voice cracked. “What kind of son would I be then?”

I looked at him—really looked—and hoped he would understand what I couldn’t say out loud: That every second I spent lying in this bed felt like I was failing her. That I was running out of time, money… and strength.

“If you had the Migraines with Aura I have… if you had Temporal Lobe Seizures, lost your father, had no job, no one willing to help… and your mother was diagnosed with cancer… would you let her stay alone? For twenty-four hours?”

My voice shook. Overflowing with everything I had buried for too long.

Ronan blinked, his jaw slightly parted. His hands stayed frozen by his sides, as if unsure whether to comfort me or let me burn.

I slipped out of the hospital clothes and pulled on my casual clothes in silence. My phone was in my hand as I made my way towards the door.

But one question still clawed at my chest.

‘What would I even find when I get home?’