Close your eyes, and I will be swimming, lullaby's fill your room, and I will be singing, singing to only you. Don't forget I'll hold your head, watch the night sky fading red. But as you sleep, and no one is listening, I will lift you off your feet, I'll keep you from sinking. Don't you wake up yet, cause soon I'll be leaving you, soon I'll be leaving you, but you won't be leaving me.
"OH MY GOD, THIS IS LIKE THAT SCENE IN THE HANGOVER! GET A MAP AND FUCK OFF!"
Brent is being obnoxious as we head into the hospital. I'm shaking cause I'm worried about Jon, and then I'm pissed off and want to punch my own fiancee in the face.
Glass case of emotion.
"Brent, just sit down, and shut up. Duncan is bringing you a very, very large coffee."
"I know something else that's very large." He chuckles.
"I'm sure you do."
"Why are we here again?"
"Cause Jon's been drugged."
"WHAT?! NO! MY BOYFRIEND CAN NOT BE DRUGGED! THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!"
He huffs, "Jon and I are in love. Deal with it."
"Yet you're engaged to me?"
"Well, you're sexy. Look at dem legs."
"Sweet fuck." I groaned walking away from him.
I see the doctors swarming Jon, his skin is paler than usual. His eyes are shut. My hand cupped my mouth as I began to sob hysterically.
"Ally? Are you okay?"
I look over my shoulder and see Kris standing there. I shrugged as I looked back into the window. Jon was now lying there, alone. Kris rubbed my shoulders as a few more tears hit my face. I sniffed them back as I leaned on his shoulder.
"He'll be okay. Just a stomach pump, 12 hour sleep, and an IV should do it."
"How do you know that?"
"Ally, I'm a hockey player. Shit happens."
"OH MY GOD, YOU CAN'T JOIN THE MONTREAL CANADIENS IT'S SOCIAL SUICIDE!"
We both look over at Brent. He's sitting in front of the TV. ESPN was on, and there was a rumour about J.S Giguere getting traded to them. I just shook my head.
"Ally, go home. Jon should be asleep for a while now. Take your drunk gay fiancee with you."
"That should never be spoken of, again."
I walk over and Brent's still glued to the TV. It looks like his eyes are going to bulge out of his head. I snap my fingers and he glances at me.
"We're going home."
"YES!!! Do I get a cookie?"
"You might if you keep quiet."
"Good, cause Dunc brought me a coffee, but no cookie. I hope he gets kicked in the face for that. Douchefuck."
I drag him out to the car, and put on his seatbelt for him. He tortures me by blasting the Jonas Brothers. Don't get me wrong, I love the Jo Bro's ... but at 4am? Not, bloody likely.
"I'M HOT, YOU'RE COLD, YOU GO AROUND LIKE YOU KNOWWWWWW, WHO I AM, BUT YOU DON'T. YOU GOT ME ON MY TOESSS!" Brent horribly sings back with Joe Jonas' soothing voice. Making me hold back my laugh. "Haha, Toes, like Jon's last name."
"It's pronounced Toews."
"Who the fuck said you could talk?"
"Do you want to see your 25th birthday?"
"It'd be nice."
"Then shut up."
"Meow. Hey, can I ask you something?"
I groan, "I guess?"
"Can I pounce you?"
"Yeah! When we get home? I've always wanted to ... have sexual relations in the kitchen."
I laugh, "Nah, you can have a cold shower and go to bed."
"You're not fun."
"You're not sober."
"Pfffffffffft. I am so sober."
I don't say anything back to him. It was like dealing with a 3 year old. He continues put the music back on and sing. It makes me wonder how the hell he even knew all the words to the fucken Jonas Brothers.
As we got upstairs I helped Brent get out of his jeans and shirt. Leaving him in his boxers. He continues to take it the wrong way.
"That dress would look better on the floor."
"You'd look better if you just went to sleep."
He pouts and climbs into bed, "Fine."
I laugh as I brush his hair away from his face, "I love you."
"I love ... cake."
I slip off my dress and put on a tank top and shorts. I crawled onto the bed, over Brent, and pressed my lips to his. He was resistant at first but then kissed back.
"Goodnight ... I better get my cookie tomorrow."