31. “I can’t hate you.” With Chase and Hen?
“Have you not drunk enough tonight?”
Chase looked up, seeing Henrik standing in the doorway of Jack’s hospital room. Compassion was plain on the doctor’s otherwise stony expression, and he was dressed in his usually monotone clothes which meant he was off duty.
With a bitter laugh Chase looked down at the whiskey bottle in his hand, then gestured vaguely with it. “…No?”
“Drinking in a hospital,” Henrik mused, wandering into the room and to Jack’s bedside. His eyes wandered distantly over his friend’s still, pale face. “I cannot recommend it.”
“Thanks for the uh, the professional opinion,” Chase said. His voice was sluggish and thick as he took another swig of alcohol. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
Henrik sighed, an exhausted but good-natured sigh. He went to the monitors by the bedside, squinting as he looked over the vitals. The silence hung in the room for a moment, and he could feel Chase’s eyes on him.
“If you vhant to yell at me,” he finally murmured. “You can go ahead.”
Another laughed hissed through Chase’s nose as he shook his head. “You have no idea how often I want to yell at you, Henrik.”
“I zhink everyone vhants to yell at me, very often,” Henrik replied with a tight smile, glancing back at Chase. “I am used to it.”
“Oh, so you know you’re an asshole. That’s something, I guess,” Chase grumbled. He stood up, slowly, swinging the bottle as he walked to opposite side of Jack’s bed. His eyes lingered on his friend’s face, as if looking for some face, but that peaceful sleep hadn’t changed since he went under the coma. And it grew less peaceful every day.
“Zhere is a difference from being an asshole to making all zhe hard decisions,” Henrik reasoned, crossing his arms.
Chase’s reddened eyes widened in a very forced smile. “That’s it though, you’re making all the decisions. That’s the problem.”
“Are you going to yell at me or not?” Henrik asked patiently. “I vhould prefer zhat to vhatever zhis is. At least vhen you yell at me, you are honest.”
“You want me to be honest with you?” Chase asked. His voice began to tremble, just a little. “I can’t stand you sometimes, Henrik. I don’t know why you think you’re some kind of god who can just make everyone else’s choices. I don’t know why it was so easy for you to just put Jack in a fucking coma and leave him with tubes in his nose–”
“It vhas not easy.”
“–and I don’t know how you can stay so sane and calm when the world is falling apart around you. Jesus Christ, I can’t stand you sometimes.” He took another long drink from his bottle, shaking his head. “God, I want to hate you, Henrik.”
“I do not care if you hate me,” Henrik told him quietly. His eyes had gone sad. “Either vhay, you vhill live. Seán vhill live. Zhat is vhat matters.”
Chase sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. He couldn’t lift his gaze away from Jack’s face. All the energy seemed to drain from him in that moment.
“I can’t hate you, Henrik,” he murmured. “I just hate that you’re right.”
