Alex Carter: A Red Band Society Fanfiction

Bated Breath

Hunter had tuned out the bustling of the hospital to white noise, and sat in his dressing gown on the edge of his bed. He stared off into space, his brain wracking with anxious thoughts. He'd been waiting for this moment for so long, he couldn't believe it was actually here. This was also the time his anxiety about the risk of the surgery reared it's head, and he felt like he was awaiting trial, with the outcome either as good as a week of bed rest, or as bad as execution. 

He saw Dash after he heard him, as the guy entered the room he interrupted his blank stare, effectively pulling him out of his internal spiraling. He sat down on the empty bed across from Hunter wordlessly. "What're you doing here?" he asked. 

He was a little surprised to see him of all people. As excited as he'd been for Hunter, who knew it was genuine, Hunter knew that Dash was in a similar situation. Awaiting an organ. Awaiting another person's tragedy. Their demise would be his salvation. It was a sick position to be put in, in some ways, and Hunter knew he had to be jealous of him, as Hunter could've gone home to wait, while Dash needed constant monitoring. And even yet, Hunter had been given an out before him. 

Dash sighed. "We're low on redband reserves," he stated, "but no one goes under the knife without a pep talk." 

Hunter's shoulders dropped, and he looked away, shaking his head. 

"Not on my watch," Dash reiterated with conviction. 

Hunter turned to look back up at Dash. "You take this stuff pretty seriously, don't you?" he nodded vaguely towards Dash. 

"I do," he answered honestly. 

"You know, when I first met you, I thought you were kind of a poser," Hunter admitted. 

Surprisingly, Dash didn't seem offended, he just shrugged his shoulders. He was used to people putting labels on him, and with the roles he's played in his group of friends, he didn't give anyone a reason to try and figure him out. It didn't bother him as much as people would assume, he instead used it as a sort of litmus test. He knew that if someone wanted to know him, they'd have to be intentional about it. 

"But now I think I may have underestimated your leadership," Hunter continued. "Maybe because you underestimate it. You walk around like a number two. Chief of Staff to President Leo. But I think you've got it backwards. I mean, look," he said, gesturing vaguely to where Dash sat across from him. "From where I sit, you're the one holding things together around here."

Dash looked past Hunter, processing what he'd said. 

"Hunter," came Kenji's voice from the doorway. It was softer than usual. "I'm gonna take you upstairs now, I just gotta grab a chair," he stated. 

Hunter stared at the doorway even after Kenji had left, trying to put on a brave face. He knew he didn't have time to waste, so he grabbed an envelope that lay on top of his bag next to him. He held it in his hands, staring down at it in order to get his next sentence out. "If I don't wake up, would you mind giving this to Kara for me?" 

He leaned forward to offer the letter to Dash, his arm outstretched. Dash didn't move for a moment, letting the letter and question hang in the air. "You can give it to her yourself," he insisted. 

Hunter stared at Dash, pleading. He didn't want to speak out loud another thought of him not making it out of the surgery, and turned to the silent stand off they found themselves in, the letter still outstretched between them. 

Dash eventually gave in, his gaze softening as he read Hunter's expression. He took the letter from his outstretched hand wordlessly, turning it over in his hands. 

"Thanks, Dash," Hunter said genuinely, and stood as Kenji wheeled in the wheelchair. He sat in it, sending Dash one last glance. "Catch you on the flip side," he stated, wanting to end it cheerfully.