Hey man, why haven't you been picking up? Someone is here. She says she's your sister.
It was a message from Ethan, and Ryan only saw it after Adrian had finally left. His phone had been on DND the entire day. There were missed calls and messages from both Ethan and his sister, all from nearly forty minutes ago.
The moment he read it, his blood pressure spiked.
It had been almost eight months since he got admitted into Westhills, and this was the first time a family member was coming to the school. To anyone else, it might have sounded like a normal family visit, but to Ryan, it sounded more like trouble.
By the time he got to his hostel, he was already out of breath. He had run the whole way, not out of anticipation but anxiety. Whatever it was that brought his older sister there, he just wanted it over with.
The hostel curfew was 11 pm. Luckily, he arrived a little past 10. Ethan was waiting outside their room, leaning against the door, scrolling through his phone, his foot tapping restlessly against the floor. Ryan shot him a curious look that asked everything, and Ethan only shrugged in response. Ryan said nothing and went straight into the room, his focus only locked on the visitor inside.
The room was bright enough from the lightbulb. Eva was moving around, going through the shelves, checking the corners, and touching items on the table. She looked like she was observing and inspecting the place rather than visiting it.
"Why are you here?" Ryan asked, forcing his voice to stay steady, stern.
Eva turned to him immediately. "Why am I here? Why haven't you been taking my calls or replying to my messages?"
"I didn't see the point in doing that," he replied flatly. "It's not like anything good ever comes out of what you say."
Eva laughed, scratching her forehead. "Mom's been in the hospital for two months now."
Ryan froze at the spot.
"What's wrong with Mom? Why has she been at the hospital?" Ryan asked, the words coming out strained.
Eva exhaled slowly and sank onto the edge of the lower bunk. "I don't know… I've forgotten the exact name. Just something severe enough to keep her admitted for months, but not immediately life-threatening. The doctors say it could last… years. Maybe eight to ten."
Ryan felt the words settle in his chest like a weight.
"Eight to ten years?" His heart beating faster now, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"You never answered," Eva said sharply. "And it's not like I care anyway. Do you think I'd willingly leave my salon to come all the way here, to this nonsense? This is because of your mother. Despite what the assurance the doctors gave, she thinks she's going to die soon and asked to meet you."
His eyes fell, guilt and anger creeping in, alongside the anxiety already coiled up in his chest. He was angry at the way his sister spoke, and guilty because he couldn't ignore his conscience.
Before he got into college, he had long resolved to cut his family off, but he had never fully done it. He despised his father, who had basically been useless to everyone around him, Ryan and his siblings included. The only thing he had genuinely passed down was the SS genotype he gave to Ryan's younger sister. His mother wasn't exempted, and for some reason, the way she tolerated it only deepened his resentment towards her.
He could count the number of days they had to starve because his dad had refused to work. Days he'd return home drunk, only to yell at everyone and beat his mom black and blue. And after that, he'd pounce on her in the bedroom. Like, why was she still in that failed marriage? Despite having a lot of chances to leave, she didn't. And now her life is hanging by a thread.
Almost his entire life had been spent shuttling his younger sister to and fro one hospital or another. He still couldn't get used to the smell, instead it only deepened his dislike for it.
During all those years, his father had never put a penny into the bills. It's always been his mom. Their older siblings hadn't helped much either, though Ryan didn't blame them. In fact, he had behaved the same way toward the family, if not worse, because he made up his mind to cut them off entirely. While theirs was becoming distant from him and his younger sister, they maintained a closer relationship with their parents. Sometimes he understood their choices, other times, it felt completely absurd.
Ryan slumped to the floor, back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. Eva had left a while ago, leaving the hospital address scribbled on a scrap of paper on the table. Beads of tears slid down his face as he thought of everything.
Now his mom was the one lying in a hospital, and all Ryan could do was weep for the future of his mother and younger sister.
Ethan didn't come in until a long while. He didn't linger at the door either. From the little hints he had picked up over time from their conversations, he already knew the dynamic between Ryan and his family, and he knew better than to eavesdrop on whatever bickering was happening inside the room. If it was something he needed to know, Ryan would tell him later. At least, that was what he told himself as he turned and headed to the lounge.
Some minutes later, he returned to the room, just in time to see Eva stomp past him, her expression rather angry and irritated. She didn't spare him a glance. And that was how he knew something serious had happened.
Inside, Ryan was slumped on the floor, his back against the wall, shoulders shaking as he sobbed quietly to himself. The sight made Ethan pause. Whatever had gone down clearly wasn't something small.
He didn't say anything. He didn't ask questions. He simply walked over, bent down beside Ryan, and gently rested a hand on his back, stroking slowly in circles. It was the only kind of comfort he knew Ryan would accept right now, and for once, it felt like enough.
At Hawthorne Hospital, Ryan stood at the front counter, fingers curled tightly around the strap of the bag he had packed, as he waited for the woman behind the desk to look up at him.
"Hi," he said, his voice quieter than he intended. "I'm here to see a patient."
The woman nodded, already reaching for her keyboard. "Patient's full name?"
He gave it, and then came the follow-up questions, one after another: relationship to the patient, date of birth, last visit, emergency contact. They were questions he had spent a lot of thought preparing for before answering.
She typed for a moment longer, then glanced back up. "You're her son?"
"Yes."
She softened slightly. "Room 805, eighth floor."
Ryan nodded, muttered a thank you, and stepped away from the counter toward the elevator.
He wasn't as flustered as he had been the previous night. Now he was braced to see his mom, hear what she had to say, and maybe stay with her for a while.
The elevator chimed as he stepped inside, reaching for the button to the floor. But before the doors could close, a man in white, whom Ryan presumed was a doctor, came running toward the elevator, signaling for him to wait.
Ryan paused, letting the doors slide back open.
The man jogged up and slipped inside, catching his breath. "Thank you," he said, brushing off how quickly he'd walked.
Ryan gave a slight nod in acknowledgment.
He didn't want to, but he couldn't help noticing how the man's appearance contrasted with what he had pictured a doctor should look like.
He had always pictured doctors as trim and proper, but this man was definitely not that. His black hair was tied back in a ponytail, his mouth moving to the gum he chewed, and his head bobbing to music playing through a headset. The heavily clashing white lab coat draped over a sports top and cargo pants made him look like an imposter straight out of a crime movie.
The man bent down to pick something up from the floor. "I think you dropped this," he said.
Ryan flinched, darting his eyes toward him. "Oh, thank you," he muttered.
It was his earbuds that had fallen while Ryan had hurried to keep the elevator door open for the man.
"My pleasure," the man said with a smile, returning to the position he had been in.
The silence stretched again between them, and the man still hadn't pressed a button for the floor he was headed to. And it only heightened Ryan's anxiety and suspicions. Was the man following him? Was he a thief? He clutched his bag tighter at the thought of it, even though nothing valuable was inside. Regardless, he still needed its contents during the few days he might stay there.
Ryan stole a few glances at the man. Many times, the man caught him staring, his expression showing genuine confusion at why the shorter man beside him was acting so strangely.
When the elevator finally stopped at the eighth floor, Ryan stepped out immediately, hastening his pace. But upon him looking back, the man was walking in the opposite direction. He laughed quietly to himself at how ridiculous his thoughts and actions had been. What was so strange about a random man in an elevator going to the same floor as him?
The nurse had said room 805, but it wasn't in the direction he had walked. Now he had to turn back, heading the same way the man had gone earlier.
He chuckled silently at the irony of it, realizing he was the one now following.