Chapter Text
Ray couldn't do this.
He was standing in the hospital hallway and looking at that room 5 sign above his brother's door and his feet wouldn't move.
Not closer to the door anyhow.
He wanted to run away, turn around and go as far away as possible, but he knew it wasn't fair. He needs me. He thought. I'm being selfish. And yet, his feet refused to move closer.
His breath came heavy and broken through his nose. There was a weight on his chest, a hand squeezing his lungs until it felt impossible to breathe.
Gary wasn't breathing.
All of a sudden Ray's body turned, with very little input from his mind, and began to put distance between himself and room number five. He could barely look where he was going, but anywhere would be better than here.
He couldn't breathe, his brother couldn't breathe. Why had he done that? It was Gary that was selfish, Ray thought, and the thought only made things worse. He's sick. He needed help and where were you? He needed you. You weren't there.
The white walls seemed to pass by Ray faster and faster, but he couldn't tell for sure. They were all the same, a labyrinth keeping him trapped in the maze of the hospital smell. He was dimly aware of the shadows in his peripheral vision, the people moving around him, but they didn't really matter.
Not until he rushed face first into someone, anyway.
"Whoa, you okay there?"
"I'm, I'm sorry — I can't —" His body didn't work. Why didn't his body work? You're not the one with his wrists —
"I think you're having a panic attack, man." The voice was deep and soft. Ray could feel arms coming up around him, but they didn't really touch him. "You need to breathe, dude."
"I can't! I— my brother —" Ray's face was wet. Was he crying? How long had he been crying for? Since they got to the hospital? Since he entered the bathroom?
The arms around him moved again. A hand came down to his own, and brought it up to the man's chest. He could feel the movement of the other breathing.
"Come on, you can do it." Ray could feel the voice through his chest too, smooth and calm in a way that felt impossible right now. "In and out, I'll do it with you."
Ray wasn't sure how long he stayed there, standing in the middle of the hallway with his hand pressed on the man's chest, but eventually his lungs remembered how to behave, and the tears on his eyes stopped coming.
He finally looked up at the man who's hand he was somewhat holding. His breath stuttered again.
The guy was gorgeous, dark skin and the sweetest eyes he had ever seen. He had a tentative smile on his face, still seemingly worried for Ray's state, and a jagged scar on his left cheek. He's also wearing blue scrubs and a name tag with a small red dot. Peter McVries.
"You okay?" Peter asked.
"I—" No, he wanted to say. I'll never be okay again. But he couldn't say that, so he settled for the next best thing. "Thank you."
"No worries, man. That's what I'm here for." His smile eased a bit. He had a nice smile. The nicest Ray had ever seen. "Anything else I can help with? Any check-ups? A new change of clothes?"
Ray looked down on himself. His gray sweatshirt was covered in blood. It had all dried up by now, crusted over brown. It was worst near his hands where he had tried to stop the bleeding, but he didn't need new clothes. He needed to be in room 5 seeing if his brother was okay. He looked around them to realize he had no clue where he was. His sleep walking down the hospital corridors must have carried him far from the ICU.
"I need to head back. The ER, ICU rooms. My brother— he—" Say it. the terrible voice inside of him kept taunting. If you don't say it now, you'll never get it out. "He tried to kill himself."
It's a whisper. He couldn't raise his voice if he wanted to.
It was the scariest moment of Ray's life, walking into the bathroom and seeing Gary in that bathtub. It was worse that the news of his father's death, because that at least had happened far away, that was something Ray didn't have to watch. For this, he had to hold Gary's wrists shut to keep the blood in. Had to scream for his mom until she came in, until she saw her youngest cut open, for her to call the paramedics. His hands still felt wet. Out, he thought, Out you damn spot.
"I'm very sorry." Peter said, and he sounded sincere. As if he really knew Ray and Gary and Ginny and wasn't just some poor nurse that Ray had ran over in his despair. He placed his hand on the crook of Ray's arm and softly guided him away from the middle of the hallway. They reached a small waiting area, not a reception, just a couple of chairs by a water fountain. Peter sat Ray down. How long had it been since he sat down? Had he sat by waiting room while the medics took Gary away? He couldn't remember now. All he could conjure up in his mind now was the bathroom back home and the door number 5. Peter placed a cup of cold water in his hand and the feeling of the paper grounded him. It wasn't enough to make him feel like a person, but at least he didn't feel there again. In that bathroom. He hated that bathroom.
"Do people usually remodel their bathrooms after there's a suicide attempt there?" Then he realized what he had asked. "Don't answer that. It doesn't matter. I know it doesn't matter. There's more important things to think about right now."
Peter knelt down in front of the chair. His voice was still even, calm and deep, one of the things that seemed successful at grounding Ray.
"When my mom had cancer, she took me to taco bell after every treatment day. Ever since she passed away the smell of it makes me throw up. Our brains work in weird ways, you don't have to feel guilty about that type of thought."
Ray nodded, absentmindedly, and took a sip of his water. It grounded him some more. Maybe they should move out. Find a different house, one where his father had never made them pancakes in the kitchen and where his little brother's blood had never touched the tile.
"You're really good at this calming people down thing, Peter." He said.
"Oh, I sure hope so. I'm a psychiatric nurse." He said with another soft smile. "And it's just Pete."
"Okay. Pete." And Ray just looked at Pete's eyes until Pete tilted his head at him and he realized he hadn't introduced himself yet. "I'm Ray. Ray Garraty."
"Alright, Ray Garraty. Here's the plan." Pete said, and he put his hand on Ray's arm rest. His fingers were almost touching the back of his hand. I want him to touch me, Ray thought and then he thought, is that also a symptom of brain weirdness? "You'll finish your water. Then we'll get up to search for your brother's room and I'll take you there. That's just three things. Three things is a good list."
"An easy list." He said.
"A good list." Pete repeated. "It might not be easy. It doesn't have to be easy, or hard, or anything. It is the way it is. If we get there and you don't feel ready to go in, I'll wait with you, alright?"
"Alright." Ray finished his water. "He's on room number 5. There's a green trim on the sign."
"Okay, I know where it is."
And Pete helped Ray up and walked close to him while they made their way through the hospital. Every time Ray stopped walking, Pete would stop next to him, no questions asked. It wasn't a fast walk, but eventually they were back where Ray had been. Standing outside door number five. Someone had put Gary's name on the small slot under the number, a small red dot next to his name. It was the same dot from Pete's name tag. Psychiatric ward.
"Gary Barkovitch." Pete read aloud.
"He's adopted." Ray said and the words tasted like dirt. He's my brother. He's mine. He wanted to scream. Back when they were kids, when Gary was still a foster, not adopted yet, Ray used to joke that he was a rescue. More cat than kid. But he was just a kid. He was twenty now. Still a kid. "He kept his old name because Gary Garraty sounded like a comic book character."
"It's certainly a mouthful." Pete said. His hand came up to rest at Ray's arm. Grounding. Pete was very, very good at being grounding. "You ready to go in, Ray?"
"I—" Ray began, eyes still glued to his brother's name. To that little red dot. "You're gonna be in his ward right? We'll see each other again? You'll keep an eye on him?"
"Yeah, Ray. I promise."
"Okay. I think I'm ready."
Ray took a step towards the door and Pete's hand fell from its perch on his shoulder. He missed it immediately. He half expected to turn around and see Pete gone, but he was waiting for Ray to go in. He knew then that if he didn't do it, Pete would wait in the hallway with him until his mom came out. He was reliable. It seemed to Ray like that was the best thing a nurse could be.
"Thanks again." He said before his hand reached for the door knob.
"Anytime, Ray Garraty. Anytime."
And with that, he turned around and walked into Gary's room.