#maxstanley

Ian was hunched over in the bathroom, his stomach churning as he choked on sobs, trying to clutch onto something to distract him from the feeling of his prescription, all ninety pills settling inside of him. His eyes were barely working, and the only thing he could see was the note he had left for Max on the sink. He tried to stand up, only to collapse to the tile floor, bruising his tummy as he fell, a thud resonating through the door, and he felt his eyes shut, as he drifted into sleep.

He could still vaguely hear things around him, Max’s television, like a silent hum underneath the daze he was settling into. Max was still asleep. Ian focused on the seafoam green bathroom rug, singing to himself, trying to calm everything down when it felt like his body was battling harder than it ever had. His eyes burned from crying, and his stomach felt as if it was being pried open with pins and needles. He never cried like this, but something was so peaceful, yet so terrifying about his life coming to an end, something he had craved for so long. In that moment, he was no longer haunted by memories, no longer haunted by senseless guilt, no longer haunted by the burden of breathing, and knowing that, he forced a half smile, through his fading consciousness. There wasn’t too much after this that he would he or see, just a simple void after maybe ten minutes, a silent, restful comatose.

Max eventually woke up later that night, to use the bathroom, and when he first went to the door, he was confused as to why the door was closed and the light was on. Ian never stayed up this late, so it wouldn’t be likely he needed to shave, shower, or even use the bathroom. He inched towards the door, his shoulder silently pressing into the wooden surface.

“Honey...Ian? Are you in there?” Ian didn’t respond. “Ian, please? Are you there?” Silence was the only response Max got. “Ian, love, I’m coming in.”

Max opened the door, before seeing Ian’s close to lifeless and unresponsive body, pale and silent on the floor. He rushed to his side, cradling him in his arms. “Ian, Ian oh my God.” Max could see the bottle of medication in his peripheral vision, a shakily written note on the sink. “Ian, please. Stay with me.” Ian’s heart rate was slowed to almost nothing, his breathing was inaudible as he lay in complete tranquility in Max’s arms. “Okay, okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Max told him, brushing his hair out of his face and reaching to hold his hand. He reached for his phone, and called 911.

Until the ambulance got there, Max just held Ian like a baby in his arms, rocking him back and forth and singing to him, although he knew he wouldn’t hear the songs, he still did so, in hopes he would maybe wake up to it. They stayed like this for a few minutes, before the door swung open, two men with a stretcher rushed to the bathroom to see Ian and Max. Max stood up, still holding Ian, and the paramedics transferred him to the stretcher, placing an oxygen mask over his face, and wheeling him outside.

Max stayed by Ian’s side through the entire ambulance ride, holding his hand and drawing little hearts over his knuckles, and even once they arrived at the hospital, he stayed by his side in the room, until nurses forced him away. Max waited impatiently, shaking and crying, waiting for a word from the nurses. It wasn’t until shortly after daylight that a nurse would come to speak to him about Ian’s condition.

The blonde woman neared Max, and he jolted instantly, to get any sort of update from her. “Is he alive? Is he okay?” Max pleaded. The nurse gave him a weak smile. “Ian is alive, we are pumping his stomach, currently. He’s not in the best shape, but he’s going to be okay, he’s going to survive. Would you like to see him?” She asked.

Max nodded, sniffling and standing up.

“Just…” She trailed off. “He’s alive, but, I’m sorry.” She paused again.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Max asked.

“There’s a very high chance Ian won’t remember you.” She looked to Max sadly.

“H-he’s got to, right?”

“Ian took a very high amount of his medication. That high of an amount of benzodiazepines can, and usually does kill a human. When it doesn’t in can seriously harm their brain, in major ways.”

“Just…” Max felt a tear fall, which he was quick to wipe away. “Please just let me see him.”

The nurse nodded, and walked Max to Ian’s room, where he was laying on the bed, hooked up to all kinds of machines, and seemed more pale than Max had ever seen. He rushed to his boyfriend’s side, once there he gently held his hand and kissed it. Ian gasped in response, pulling away from him.

“W-who are you? I don’t know you... where are you from? Are you a doctor? Who are you?” Ian asked dryly.

“Baby...Ian, it’s me, It’s Max.” He said in a sad tone.

“A-are you a nurse? No more needles, please. Water maybe. No more needles.”