All The Small Things

114

[Jacob POV]

I came home and expected Luca to still be with Karmin, so when I opened my front door and heard him softly crying in the bathroom, I was more than surprised.
"Bubba, are you okay?" I asked, knocking on the door. I didn't get a verbal answer. But after a few seconds, the door opened. His nose was red, and tear streaks ran down his cheeks. He sniffled and reached for me.
"Papa!" He cried, his stuffie sitting next to the sink. I quickly scanned over his arms to double-check that he was okay. He was in a black, long sleeve shirt, but I saw darker places on the sleeves than the rest, almost like blood seeped through.
"Baby, let me see your arms," I instructed him. He couldn't do anything other than cry, breaking my heart over again.
"Shhh, baby. Let Dady hold you," I softly said, sitting down in the hallway and pulling him into my lap by his sides. I whispered praises to him as I carefully rolled up his sleeve.
"Momma hates me, Karmin hates me. You're gonna hate me!" He sobbed as I exposed pretty large gashes across his left arm.

"Luca, I have got to take you to a hospital!" I exclaimed, standing up. They were still bleeding, so I grabbed a washcloth and told him to hold it tight over them. I snatched an old backpack out from the closet and shoved in my charger, a couple pairs of boxers and shorts, and a few shirts. I'm pretty sure with how deep they are, he's getting admitted to a mental hospital. And I don't want to have to come back, leaving him all by himself at the hospital for even an hour. I still have my phone, wallet, and keys on me, so I didn't need to grab them. As I pulled the backpack on, I hurried back to the bathroom and pulled him into my arms. I didn't turn any of the lights off as we left. I barely managed to lock the front door before I ran down the stairs and to the car.

"Luca Shane Thompson," I quickly answered as the front desk lady asked his name.
"Date of birth?" She asked in a monotone voice. I know she's not gonna be panicked with me since this is her daily job, so I told myself not to hold it against her.
"5-12-02," I answered. She printed out a hospital bracelet for him, telling us to go ahead and take a seat and that we'd be called back when they were ready.
I was carrying him anymore, but he still clung onto my hand with his right one as I went to go sit in the waiting area with him.
"Let me see if it's still bleeding," I mumbled as he sat down next to me. He placed his arm over the chair arms and rested it, facing up in my lap. I pulled away the washcloth that was now partially covered in blood, seeing the wound quickly fill back up with blood and start to run down his arm again.
"Hold it back on there," I instructed him. He still was hanging onto his stuffie tucked under his armpit since he needed his right hand. I kissed his temple, then his cheek since he had only recently stopped crying.
"My-my head hurts..." He whispered, looking up at me.
"I know, baby. It'll go away, I promise," I reassured him. On the drive over, I asked him for the rundown on what the hell happened today, so I knew mostly what went down.

Basically, Karmin got upset with him and yelled over something, which really triggered Luca. He sorta spiraled into thinking I would hate him, Karmin now hated him, and that his mom was never going to like him again.
"Luca!" A nurse called, catching out attentions. I stood up and let him grab my fingers again, following the nurse to get his vitals.
"Relax. Breath," I reminded him, rubbing his back as the machine squeezed his arm.
"Are you boyfriend? Husband? Friend?" The nurse asked, letting the vitals machine do its thing.
"Boyfriend," I briefly answered.
"And you said you think the cuts need stitched?" She asked. Not like she was doubtful, at least not outwardly, but like she wanted to double check.
"Yeah. I'm not a doctor or anything, but it was pretty deep to me," I explained. She nodded as the machine beeped, signaling it was done. The big numbers were 70/110, which she said was good. So I took her word for it. I followed her back, letting Luca walk in front of me, to one of the sterile rooms.
"Sit up there for me so we can get a look at your arm," She instructed, setting down gauze, a water-looking liquid, baby soap, and medical pads on a little tray next to the hospital bed.

He listened, and I sat next to him in one of the plain chairs they had while she pulled away the washcloth.
"It's been bleeding since about 6, you said?" She asked, looking at the clock on the wall. I nodded, checking as well. It's 8:33 right now, so it's been bleeding to about 2 and a half hours.
"Yeah, it's gotten a little better, but you know it's still bleeding," I explained, getting her to nod. She opened the water bottle and baby soap, holding a little plastic bowl under it, and cleaned off any of the blood left on his skin.
"In my opinion, it'll need either stitched or glued. But we'll have the doctor look at it to double-check," She said, very gently scrubbing at the dried blood before rinsing it once again.
"I'm going to take a picture of it so the doctor doesn't have to take the wrap off and redo it if she decides it doesn't need them," She told us, pulling out her phone and snapping a quick photo. She sent it, put it away, placed the sterile pads, and wrapped the gauze quickly but accurately, then taped it up.
"She'll be in here soon," the nurse reassured us, shutting the door behind her and taking the excess products with her.

"Dady, I'm sorry," Luca apologized again, glancing up at me for a second.
"Baby, I'm not mad. I swear," I promised, pulling my chair closer to the hospital bed. He sniffled and reached his good arm over to hold my hand, which I instantly did.
"I need you to know, you very well could be put into a acute stay. And if you are, I'll call you every day. Work closes at 7:30, so if you call me by 7:45, I will always answer," I told him. I don't want it to be a surprise if he does go in, and I definitely don't want him to think I'm ghosting his calls if I'm just working. He nodded and sat his stuffie in his lap.
"He's a cutie," I commented, making him smile a bit.

When the doctor came in, he gave the verdict that it needs some sort of closure to make sure it heals properly.
"You get the choice on if you want stitches or glue," She told Luca.
"I don't want stitches," He quickly decided.
"That's what most people you're age say too," She commented, taking out some sealed, sterile package. She sat it on the little tray, pulled on a new pair of gloves, and started unwrapping the bandage. It was a very fast process, honestly. She held each of them together while the glue dried down before moving on to the next. There were a total of 6 she needed to glue. The process of getting Luca evaluated, though, was not fast at all. After the doctor glued the lacerations, they had a social worker of sorts come in and have him fill out an entire packet. It was a variety of questions regarding mental health symptoms or depression signs with multiple choice options of rarely ever, a few days, multiple days, more than half the days, or nearly every day.

I didn't force him to let me read his answers and just made some small conversation, partially scrolling on my phone. After he handed the packet back over to be evaluated and scored, the social worker came back to say he's getting admitted somewhere and gave him another packet of contact information, personal information, and basic basic rules about he facility. The social worker said they had already gotten a bed reserved in record time since they accepted him so fast. They said he was going to Bloomington Meadows and that it wasn't too far away. Maybe 20 minutes of a drive from the hospital, so 30 or 35 minutes from our apartment. Even with my warning to him about the probability of him being hospitalized, he wasn't happy about going.

"I'm really gonna miss you..." He whimpered, sniffling and rubbing his eyes.
"I know, baby," I answered, rubbing his side. They had put the clothes I grabbed into a hospital bag for him so he could take them to Meadows.
"I'll call you. It's okay," I reassured him, rubbing his back.
"Don't give Momma the number there... She'll flip out. She always does. I don't want her to have another reason to be mad at me," He mumbled, acting really tired. To be fair, it's like midnight now. Just as I was checking the clock again, the doctor opened the door, and the paramedics with the stretcher came in.
"Love you," Luca whispered, getting out of the bed and hugging me.
"Love you," I responded, standing up as he got strapped into the stretcher. The doctor set his hospital bag containing all his stuff, even his stuffie, in his lap. He still doesn't have shoes on, but the hospital gave him grippy socks after we got here. They wheeled him out to the ambulance parked outside the hospital while I scanned the room to make sure I didn't forget any of my stuff. I didn't. So I left and got in the car, suddenly unsure what to do with myself now that Luca's gone other than work. I guess I'm doing a lot of doubles this week.