#post operation

Seline gave him an angry look. "You can't throw up here. If you can't stand it, go away."

Matthew flinched. He flinched almost everytime she spoke to him since the first talk with the doctor.

"No. I-I can take it." The red-haired man set his jaw resolutely, glaring at the opposite wall. After a minute he dared to flick his gaze towards Isaiah again. Like he was building up a tolerance to that sight.

Seline let out a tiny sigh. On some level she relized she was pretty hard on him. Espcially now, when they had bigger problems. But something about her seething resentment towards Matthew held her together. It was an easier emotion to focus on than the breath-taking sense of betrayal or stomach-clenching fear for Isaiah.

Or the horrible guilt in the back of her neck, like pressure gathering that told her this was all her damn fault for not noticing on her own.

For not being close enough, present enough to witness this, to help, to be someone they wanted help from.

Matthew was back on the chair, squirming on it. He braced his elbows on the matrass next to Isaiah taking slow measured breaths through his mouth.

Shouldn't blood be an easier sight for wolves?

Seline didn't know why it didn't bother her that much. There was more of a fascinated distant mortification that was a hole to Isaiah's inner organs, only with a bit of sterile gauze to protect it. She had to actively force herself to look away, cause it kept dragging her eyes towards it like a magnet.

Time lost all its meaning. Bodily functions didn't have any effect on them. There was no way either of them could eat or sleep or leave, and ignoring any tiredness in face of the tension in her back or Matthew's gritted teeth was easy.

This was the most alert emergency mode and it would probably crush them later. But right now the adrenaline was like 10 coffees in their veins.

So Seline had no idea how much time actually passed—it could have been a few minutes or two hours—when Isaiah started shifting around on the bed.

A soft groan escaped him and his eyes fluttered for a minute as he fought the grogginess.

Seline and Matt were both standing by that point, each from one side, breaths held back.

"Isaiah?" Seline called out softly.

Isaiah's face scrunched up, but his eyes finally opened. "Hmm? Where..." He looked to her, then to Matthew, scanning the room in confusion.

His eyes drifted downwards to his chest, the hospital gown, the blanket draped over him, several tubes and IVs sticking out of his hands.

The machine he was hooked to started beeping immediately as Isaiah's breath caught in shock.

Seline's put her hand against his cheek, coaxing him to look up at her. "Hey, hey, hey. Look at me, alright? At me, not there. You are fine, you are safe, everything’s gonna be okay."

Matthew's hand was on his shoulder, applying the gentlest pressure.

"What'-what's-"

"You had a surgery after a heart attack," Seline settled on the truth. "But everything worked out. It was successful. You are okay and gonna be completely okay."

"Why-why is that-" His green eyes were wide and his breathing was hitching from how fast it came.

Matthew grabbed Isaiah's forearm, palm wrapped around his elbow. Isaiah's fingers curled into Matthew's shirt in a vice grip.

Seline mirrored the movement, taking Isaiah's other hand into hers, the other still on his face, stroking gently up and down his cheek. "Shhhhh. We are here. We are here. You will be alright in no time. They are just letting some pressure and swelling up. It will go down and they will stich you up in a few hours. Your shadow will heal everything and you'll be all good in no time."

Isaiah's head twitched in her hand towards Matthew, like he wanted to check it added up.

Seline knew, she knew how close they were, all three together. That this was good, having them both by his side. She had never felt threatened by the closeness Matthew and Isaiah shared. All the experiences and commonalities, the quiet understanding, the open affection.

Now it made her feel like an outsider, disgusting bitter taste in her mouth.

"It burns..." Isaiah said, mouth twisting, looking at Matthew. He was gripping his hand like he was about to break it. "Like silver."

"Yeah, I know, buddy," Matthew said gently, his face drawn in pained lines. "They had to use silver cause your shadow was healing up all they did, even sedated."

Isaiah looked ready to cry at that admission.

"But not the opening wound," Seline interjected. The doctor's explanation ran through her mind nonstop. "Just around the blocked artery. Once they sew up your chest, the anesthesia wears off and you will be able to heal it up with your shadow. It will be just around the heart that will take a bit. But patients after these operations get home quickly, in just a few days after."

Isaiah nodded shakily, his breathing still fast, but not rising anymore. His hold on her hand tightened.

Seline brushed some of the black curls out of his face, then kissed his forehead. "Everything's alright. You are safe. We're right here and not leaving."

Isaiah looked towards the ceiling. "I don't like hospitals," he said, lips twitching in an attempted smile that couldn't hold.

"Nobody does, man," Matt said quietly.

Isaiah swallowed heavily, lips chapped and dry. He squirmed in their hold like he was testing how much he could move.

His body jerked suddenly and he looked down and up again, breathing in deeply.

"Shhhhhh. What is it?" Seline said, trying to catch his attention with her hand still pressed against the side of his face, thumb rubbing up his temple.

"My mom." Isaiah forced his eyes closed than opened them to little slits like the light was too much. "She-she was in a hospital with her heart...send her home and she died of it." The jittery twitchy quality to his movements was persisting, his head flinching towards Matthew. "Am I going to die?"

Matthew paled more than Isaiah's hospital sheets. "No! Of course not. No way we are letting you die, right, Sel?"

Isaiah's eyes went to hers in such fearful hope her heart squeezed, eyes burning. "You are not dying, baby. You are very strong, very resilient. They are taking good care of you."

"We wouldn't let them hurt you," Matthew said in a gruff voice. "Promise."

Isaiah looked towards the ceiling, straining in their hold with involuntary movements. "I want to go home," he said in a small voice.

"We will go home soon," Seline reassured him, leaned down to kiss his forehead. "It won't take long. You'll go to sleep for a minute, your shadow will come back and them you will heal up completely at home. All good."

"We won't leave your side for a second," Matthew added. He was focusing on Isaiah's face intentely to not mind the covered wound. He held Isaiah's forearm still up in the air with one hand, rubbing his shoulder with the other steadily.

"Hurts..." Isaiah whined. A single tear slid down his cheek on the side she was stroking it. "I don't feel good."

Seline thumbed the tear away, pressing her forehead gently to his. "Just keep looking at us, okay? None of this is important. You are okay."

"Want to go home," Isaiah repeated. The coherence was waning, his voice growing weaker. He blinked in exhaustion, another tear coming up.

Seline fought tears of her own with all she had, heart beating painfully against his ribs. She let go of Isaiah's hand in order to push the call button on the side.

It felt horrible, cause knowing he was awake, they would sedate him and check him if they could close the wounds...which was good, but it scared her that he would be closing his eyes again so soon.

Isaiah shuddered as the doors opened, people rushing in. "I don't-I don't want-"

"Just for a bit, buddy," Matthew said softly, cupping the side of Isaiah's face for a second before letting go. "We'll be here, when you wake up. First thing you see, I swear."

When the whole team of people came fussing over, Seline was forced to let go of Isaiah's hand. She never wanted to be a doctor more than in that moment to just know what was happening, what they were doing with the IVs, what they were checking him for.

A nurse ushered them out, saying they were about to roll him away to close the chest.

Seline stood in the hallway a little lost how quickly everything was happening.

A muffled groan interrupted her thoughts.

Matthew was leaning against the wall with an arm, pressing his palm against his lips with a nauseous expression.

He really held out that long for Isaiah, hadn't he?

Seline's heart wrenched at the realisation. She stepped closer, putting her hand on his elbow. "Come on. I saw a bathroom on the way."

Matthew let her steer him away from the wall to the small one-stall bathroom around the corner. She shut the door behind them to give them privacy, glad she could follow him in.

Matthew gagged against his hand, lowered himself down to the toilet in haste and burped emptily over it. "Ugh."

Seline hesitated, but then crouched down next to him as Matt shivered, gagging again. "That was a horrible sight," she agreed.

Matthew hiccuped, burying his head inside the bowl. His shoulders rolled with another empty gag. Then another muffled noise that sounded dangerously close to a sob.

Seline winced, risking to put her hand in the middle of his back. Her eyes were burning and her throat was all closed up. "Just get it up. You'll feel better in a minute. Deep breaths."

Matthew's shoulders hitched, wrapping both hands around his stomach as he heaved and heaved.

It made her suddenly wonder how much of this was Matthew's shadow reacting badly to stress, to having so many strangers around. How much did the pack behaviour play into this? Stressing him about the fact that was their pack leader too?

Shadow wolves weren't good with strained situations, emotions running amok easily. And Matthew's shadow was a hassle on good days.

She rubbed his back up and down gently, then added more pressure, thumping at his shoulder blades.

The motion ushered up a sickly burp and finally a gush of vomit spilled out.

"There you go," Seline said, stroking wide circles on his back.

Matthew let out a whine. His stomach was gurgling so loudly it echoed through the tiny bathroom. His whole back arched into her hand as another wave of sick splattered into the toilet, liquid against liquid.

He coughed against a choking noise before straightening up, nose and lips dripping with saliva.

Seline tore a bunch of toilet paper and handed it over. When he didn't take it, she gently dabbed at his face on her own, then threw it into the toilet and flushed.

"A bit better now?"

Matthew swayed dizzily, grabbing onto the porcelain rim for support. His eyes were glazed over and shimmering with moisture.

Seline made a move to stand. "I'll get you some water."

His hand on her wrist stopped her. Matthew didn't tug at it, just held it weakly. "Wait."

She lowered herself back to her knees with a sigh. "What is it?"

"Just-just stay." He looked away in shame, sniffling. "Please."

Even her anger didn't reach that far. And after seeing Isaiah rolled away with that gaping hole in his chest...

She pulled her hand out of his grasp only to take it properly. A tiny squeeze.

Matthew hang his head, not looking up, his elbow braced against the toilet seat. His breathing was evening out and he didn't seem so nauseous anymore.

Seline couldn't stand that look no longer, reaching over impulsively to wrap her arms around him.

Matthew gasped in suprise before letting himself sink into her embrace. His hands came around her waist, pressing tightly like that was all that he wanted the whole time.

"It's okay. We're gonna be okay," she said into his hair, burying her nose into it. She hadn't realized how much she craved this, how much more complete she felt with Matt pressed against her like this.