thisisalex | (no subject)

Prompt: One Love by Aiden.
Character: Burton Jones.
Summary: Burton finds Midge sick with ~*~Teh Sick~*~.

Midge was sick. Burton could tell from the quiet sneezes coming from the nearby bed in the stuffy hotel room they shared, the muffled coughing and discreet trips to the loo, that his brother was sick. Even if the stickly guitarist in the other bed had been doing a better job at hiding it, Burton would have known, could have felt that his twin was sick. Not because of the infamous twin connection he had never known he and Midge to share, but because he was worried. Since Richard's flu had taken a serious turn for the worse, Burton had been keeping a close eye on Midge, knowing his immune system was not what it should be, fearing the inevitable, the day one of them would have to learn to live without the other, was already there. And at just twenty years old. As far as he knew, no one in Finland had been killed by the epidemic sweeping the United Kingdom. As far as he knew, there was no real reason to even worry about Richard having more than just a nasty case of pneumonia. Everyone knew Richard had been something of a sickly kid, after all. As far as he knew, Midge would be just fine after a cup of soup and some gingerale. As far as he knew, it would be all right. It would be just fine. Really. Not that Burton believed any of that.

Burton squeezed his eyes shut as he heard Midge creep from his bed again, padding intot he loo and twisting the water faucets. Burton didn't understand how his brother could still be getting sick, how he even had anything left to throw up. It wasn't as if he had been eating very much today, or over the past few days anyways, picking at his food and shoving it around and off his plate when others wren't looking, always acting too distracted to eat as he tried to distract everyone else. It was normal for Midge not to eat anyways, and with the continuing tour, despite Richard's illness and hospitalization, very few members of the band were paying much attention to Midge's eating habits. They were looking after their own and just trying to get through today. But Burton watched him. Burton knew he wasn't eating.

Lying on his side, Burton silently waited for the sound of the water shutting off and Midge creeping safely back into his bed, where he would toss and turn and attempt sleep, while Burton lay silently and feigned sleep. Where the two of them would lay silently and continue to pretend some deadly disease wasn't wreaking havoc on Midge's body. They had never been the type to deal with life; how could they deal with death? Burton's eyes cracked open and he turned on his side to face Midge's bed. He would wait for him to get back in bed before trying to sleep, he would wait until he saw that his twin was still there with him before letting his mind rest, he would wait until the water was turned off and Midge was no longer getting sick in the bathroom. He would wait until Midge was better before he allowed himself to drift off to sleep again.

But the sound didn't come. The sight and sound of Midge turning off the water and returning so casually to his bed, as if he had really spent that entire time washing his hands remained absent from the scene. Burton didn't move. What did this mean? Was Midge all right? Or was he just feeling a little weak?

"Midgey?" Burton called out, his heart thudding. There was no answer, save the steady stream of water coming from the sink in the bathroom. "Midgey?" Still no answer from Midge, just the pressing dark and painful silence. Where was the rest of the band now? Why did this have to happen while the two of them were alone? Wait, why did what have to happen?

"Midge!" Throwing himself up in bed, Burton tossed the covers back and fell to the floor, still tangled in his sheets. He yanked his feet free, and in a few short steps, he was standing at the bathroom door.

"And, when I wake...I see you, lying there on the bathroom floor," Burton would later describe the scene that had wound its way into his nightmares, the scene that was forever burned into his mind, that had rooted him to the spot and nearly made him sick as well. Midge was sprawled on the cool tile of the bathroom floor, his body soaked in sweat, his eyes half-open and rolled back in his head.

Burton was sure he was dead.

"VAL!" he screamed, choking on the harsh sound of his own voice. "VAL!" He continued to scream his brother's name as he fell to the ground, frantically pulling the lifeless body of his brother towards him. "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!" He screamed out, hoping someone else in the band would hear him, that Nik would, for once, leave that bitchy attitude at the door and help, that anyone would come by and help him save his brother. "FUCKING HELP."

Burton shut his eyes and held Midge's body close to him, too afraid to check his pulse, too afraid to call his name and get only silence in return. Midge couldn't die. Midge wouldn't die. Midge lived too fast for his own good, but he lived. It was Burton who did whatever he could to get himself killed or locked away for life, not Midge.

"Please don't die Midgey. Please, Val, don't die. Don't let him die," he whispered, unsure of what language he was spitting out. It didn't matter; if there was a God, he wouldn't care what language Burton pleaded for his brother's life in. "Please don't let him die." His heart was beating faster and faster as he peered into Midge's lifeless face, as he continued to half pray, half plead, without a response. He shut his eyes.

A moment later, fists began pounding on their hotel room door, arguing voices growing louder and louder, trying to get Burton's attention and trying to suggest ways to bust down the door in three seconds flat. But there was only one voice that mattered to Burton, only one voice that reached his ears and made him open his eyes. It was the quiet, weak voice that came from his arms, muttering, quite simply, "Svit?"

Midge was alive. For now, he was alive. That was enough to make Burton smile.