Spider

Jason positioned himself in the most comfortable position on the clean, fragrant sheets as Adrian turned a page of folded medical records at the bedside.

Even though he was completely wrapped in gauze and hanging intravenous drips, the blond man didn't have the awareness to obediently keep his mouth shut and be a model patient. "Adri, you look terrible, like you've been stabbed," he teased. "You sure it's not you who should be lying here?"

Adrian resisted the urge to throw the report form, which was long enough to be a seal, on his face. "Is this what you call 'just a few superficial wounds'? Fractured right 9th and 10th ribs, abdominal wall bleeding, gunshot wounds in the back dorsum, mild concussion, and a whole lot of cuts and soft tissue injuries..." He read line by line, exclaiming angrily, "Awesome! Buckle up another camouflage helmet and you can pass yourself off as an injured man coming down from the Iraqi firing line to demand compensation from the military — and you actually said you didn't want to be hospitalized!"

"Look, dear, the actual situation is not as serious as you think. This is a common trick of doctors: they always equate medical records report with bankbooks, as if the longer the thing is, the more zeros behind the deposit digit — in fact, it is." The injured man laboriously tried to lean over, attempting to pull the paper over. "Well, stop reading this boring thing. How 'bout going out to get me a beer? I want it cold."

"The doctor said you are currently not allowed to have alcohol! Don't grab it—" Adrian moved a few steps back to avoid his hand. "I still have a few lines to read. Why don't you just lie the fuck down and listen to your splendid achievements?" His eyes quickly scanned the report form, and suddenly his whole body stiffened, his fingertips poking a hole in the paper. "Anal canal wall and external sphincter lacerations... God, what did those animals do to you?!" Voice trembling, he hesitantly reached out, touching the shoulder of the man on the bed lightly as if afraid of frightening something, and then gripped it.

"Jason... Jason..." he called out his name unconsciously, as if it would make him feel better, then embraced his neck and pressed the brilliant blond hair to the pit of his own neck. "Tell me who that scum is... I'm going to kill him!"

"Don't get so worked up, Adri. It's not like you, and it makes me a little uncomfortable." Jason patted his roommate's back reassuringly. "The bastard's dead, and I promise his death perfectly matched his crime. All right, forget it. Some things, if you think of them as wounds on the skin, will heal if given enough time."

Without looking up, Adrian whispered in a very soft voice, "So, that man named Gavin left you. Will that heal too?"

"...Certainly." Jason pushed him away and smiled. "If beer doesn't work, how about coke — oh, I guess that lengthy novelist most likely even banned caffeine, too! Never mind, orange juice is always okay. Would you run, Adri? There are really not many opportunities to tell you what to do, I gotta enjoy it well."

Adrian was silent for a moment and walked out, closing the door behind him.

The curvature of the corner of Jason's mouth faded away. He laid down again, stared at the snowy white ceiling for a while, and pulled over the sheet to cover his face.

The door was knocked politely a few times, and a man in white came in. His soft, short maroon hair was slightly curled, and his light-colored irises gave a very sunny and handsome look to his features. He looked about twenty-four or twenty-five, but the way he smiled made the number tend to be smaller. This good-looking young doctor was currently smiling kindly at the patient on the bed. "Hey, hello, Mr. Jason Spencer. My name's Simon Martinez. I was supposed to come see you with my superior — Dr. Douglas Neef. He's your attending doctor, but unfortunately a seriously ill patient just came out of surgery, and he had to go over there first. How are you feeling today?"

"Just like yesterday, and just like tomorrow," Jason replied unhappily. "Good afternoon, doctor."

The doctor went to his bedside. "You don't look very well, Mr. Spencer. Do you need any help?"

"Yeah." The man in need of help looked at him anxiously at once. "If you can help me issue a discharge certificate, I guarantee that I will be able to jump out of here in no time, full spirited."

"I believe that spectacle surely would be very much dramatic," Simon said with a smile, "but I'm sorry. Although you're in good physical condition, you're out of the limits God has set for human beings, so you'll have to stay here for at least three weeks. As for the specific time, that's up to Dr. Neef to decide."

The man in the hospital bed had a disappointed look on his face.

The doctor found a chair and sat down, seemingly ready to chat with the extremely unhappy patient for a while.

"You may call me Simon. Do you mind if I call you Jason? I looked at your profile and your birthday is in October? Mine too. I'm two full years older than you. I don't really see you so... Uh," the young doctor scratched his short hair, looking a little embarrassed, "I mean, most people who are injured like this are most concerned about the wound healing and whether it will leave sequelae and such, rather than when to go through the discharge formalities. Why on earth are you in such a hurry to get out of the hospital?"

Jason spread his hands out. "Can't help it, I'm already running a monthly deficit without the medical bills item in my budget."

"But your medical bills have already been paid and signed beforehand by Mr. Adrian Westchester, your friend?"

Jason looked at the pair of light blue eyes that were as clear as daybreak, and the corners of his mouth suddenly hooked into a faint smile. He moved his body, as if trying to lean more comfortably at the headboard, and the doctor promptly leaned over to help him adjust the height of the pillow. He grabbed the tie hanging down in his white overall and pulled it down, right into Simon's somewhat astonished eyes. "Simon, why would you guess that he's my friend and not my..." he deliberately wrapped that latter word around the tip of his tongue before spitting it out, “lover?"

At that moment, the young doctor's expression was exceedingly marvelous, and Jason nearly laughed out loud, clutching his ribs and taking a long breath. The other stammered, "Right, sorry, I didn't know..."

"Oh, so if you knew in advance, you wouldn't be sitting by the bed talking to me like this?" Jason's fingers tangled in the tie, pulling it down a little more, and looked up at him.

The young doctor blushed, hesitating if he ought to save the tie from the hands that had ravaged it, his eyes dodging at a loss. "I'm sorry, that's not what I meant..."

Jason nodded. "I understand that a good doctor should pat the deviant on the shoulder at this time, and console him that 'the choice of sexual orientation is a personal right,' 'homosexuality is also a way of life' and so on, and finally not forget to add a meaningful line of 'be careful to prevent the spread of HIV.' Ah, see how tolerant and open-minded this society is, with people looking at those minorities with the same sympathy they look at sick dogs and cats, calling for the removal of discrimination as a performance of social progress. 'We must take off the tinted glasses!' Oh, of course they have to, because the rainbow flags on their heads are already bright enough!"

The poor doctor couldn't even say a word. He turned his body awkwardly, trying to avoid the other's close eyes and tie-clutching hands.

Jason chuckled and let go of his tie. "Just kidding, doctor. Of course, Adri's my friend. Hah, you broke out in a cold sweat. Where's yer sense of humor?"

Simon took two steps back and sat again in his chair as if relieved. He looked a little nervous and seemed somehow dejected.

"I thought doctors were all psychologically tough." Jason shrugged unconcernedly. "I've heard that this profession has become invulnerable to all kinds of toxicity under the stench of corpses and formalin."

"I'm really sorry, I just took off the sign of intern last year, so I'm afraid I can't reach the height you require for a little while." The young doctor felt dishonored and said angrily, "But at least I can see that I'm pretty qualified as a tonic for amusement when bored!" He suddenly rose up from his chair. "I've got things to do. Goodbye, Mr. Spencer!"

Jason called him to a halt as he grabbed the doorknob. "Simon!"

The other turned his head, with residual anger in his beautiful light-colored eyes.

Jason sighed and said quite sincerely, "I'm sorry, it's my fault. I was upset, so I made fun of you without considering your feelings. Please don't take offense."

Simon was stunned for a moment, as if he didn't expect him to apologize so frankly. He averted his eyes, thinking that there was nothing malicious in the other's words just now, and that he had overreacted a bit.

"It doesn't matter. I didn't take it to heart," he whispered, a little flustered for some reason.

"Great." The blond man exposed a somewhat childish smile. "How 'bout saying goodbye to me again?"

As if infected by his smile, Simon smiled too. "Later, Jason. Next time I hope you'll be willing to tell me why you're upset," he said, and went out the door.

The door had just opened when Adrian came in, and he nearly bumped into that young doctor. The latter dropped an apology and walked away in brisk footstep.

He sized up the departing back and walked over to the bedside to hand Jason the drink bottle. "I don't think that would be your type."

"To be precise, that's the type that gives me the most headaches — the spitting image of a pure baby bunny." Jason suddenly recalled something and shivered, quickly pouring orange juice into his mouth.

"Then take care of your injuries, know your place and stay out of trouble in the hospital."

"Of course. I don't like getting into trouble at all, but trouble always asks me to get into it."

"I don't think that's convincing, given your previous spotty record," his roommate said. "Okay, I've got an important job lately, so I gotta go back first. I'll have your coworker send over some necessities later, so phone me if you need anything."

"I don't wanna be locked up in the hospital. I hate it!" Jason called up with an aggravated look. "What the fuck can one do alone? I'll die of boredom!"

"No, at least there's still one thing to do — think."

"Think about what?"

Adrian pushed up his glasses. "About how to pay off the medical bills and car compensation you owe me."

Jason let out a groan of pain as he watched in helplessness the other leave mercilessly.

Facts have proved that this handsome blond man was the loneliest person in the world. After lying in his hospital bed and recalling the first half of his life in detail (even remembering his college thesis evaluation — his law department advisor wrote on it, 'If hideous messes were a crime, you should be condemned to life imprisonment'), he was saddened to discover that the minute hand on the wall clock had only made a quarter turn.

'Days wear on like years' was the best portrayal of his current mood. He got up and walked around the room and began to look around in boredom. It was a standard double ward, clean and tidy. There was a large bouquet of fairly fresh white-stem calla lilies next to the TV bench, and the bed on the left by the door looked like it was occupied by someone, probably being treated or examined at the moment. The bouquet must've been given to him by a visitor.

Jason was approaching to sniff the pure white petals amid the green leaves when the door was pushed open, and a medium-sized man came in. He was stunned at first glance when he opened the door, standing still for a moment before exposing an inconspicuous smile. "...Are the flowers fragrant?"

"No, not fragrant at all. I believed people visiting the sick liked to send perfumed lilies or orchids or stuff like that." Jason pulled his fingers back from the petals and looked back at the man dressed as a doctor in front of him. He was no longer young, yet there seemed to exist a long distance between him and 'old age.' This may be rooted in the well-maintained skin that was free of sagging lines, as well as the straight, handsome, deep silhouette that was mixed with Germanic blood, and the slender dark blue eyes that issued a certain gentle, enigmatic aura.

The man laughed and said, "I guess those are Mr. Warren Lange's lucky flowers. Even though he's mostly delirious due to brain tissue damage, he still manages to express dissatisfaction with the withering of the flowers. He's probably afraid that the same fate will befall him at any time, hence it's also one of the tasks of our hospital to change his flowers regularly."

Two nurses came in soon after, helping a patient off a hospital trolley and putting him back on the bed. Jason guessed he was probably the poor Mr. Lange, with silver hair and a disheveled beard covering his features so tightly that it was reminiscent of a retired Navy captain.

"Ah, I almost forgot to introduce myself. Simon should've greeted you; I'm Douglas Neef, your attending doctor." The man took a few steps forward and extended his arm. Jason thought he was going to shake his hand and was just about to respond when the other's fingers were already resting gently on his shoulder. "You can't walk freely out of bed just yet, Jason. Beware that the wound will open up. I can assure you that those places are sutured quite beautifully, but there's no guarantee that stitch them again won't leave a scar — and God will be sorry too if that happens. Come on, go lie down on the bed, okay.”

The doctor thoughtfully held the injured patient by the shoulders and escorted him to the bed, although the man in question felt that such thoughtfulness was not necessary at all. He noticed that the two nurses had quietly gone out already, and the patient in the adjacent bed was lying there straight as a dead person. His attending doctor was bending over to adjust the height of the bedhead for him, moving gently as if he were treating a fragile crystal doll, afraid that it might break if he wasn't careful. The whole room seemed to sink into an unusually quiet and sticky state, some kind of gloomy and ambiguous air faintly drifting in the space. For some reason, he didn't like the current atmosphere at all.

He tried to break this enchanted deadlock, "Doctor, I want to know when I can be discharged? Simon said it's up to you."

The doctor's hands paused for an instant. "Simon's a lovely youngster, isn't he. Many of his patients love him, though he himself doesn't notice the charm," he whispered. "Do you like him?"

Jason was stunned for a moment. He obviously didn't expect the other's answer to be irrelevant to the point. "Uh, sure. He's a kind doctor."

"And what about me, what do you think of me?"

If it weren't for the earnest expression of the man before him, Jason almost thought he was being molested (actually, it still sounded like molestation anyway.) "You look great, Dr. Neef," he said dryly.

The doctor raised an eyebrow in discontent. "Don't you think replacing those latter words with 'Douglas' can shorten the sense of distance between us? Come on, say it again, good boy," he said in a sort of psychotherapeutic, seductive tone.

Jason resisted the urge to punch him. He was his attending doctor! His surgeries, prescriptions and even every stitch in his wounds were at the mercy of that man's moods and actions, and it was practically like having half his life in his hands! That's why he loathed doctors!

"...All right. You look great, Douglas!" he said through gritted teeth.

Douglas smiled and lifted the messy blonde hair on his forehead, which hadn't been properly trimmed and maintained for a long time, yet it still shone with a captivating luster and even added a touch of languid sex appeal. "Too long hair on the forehead can affect vision. You'd better cut it," he said in the tone of teaching a child. "Such beautiful eyes shouldn't be covered behind."

Fuck, it's none of your business! Jason cursed inwardly, showing a somewhat bashful expression on his visage. "I'm used to it... I think I might not be very good with people..."

"I understand that boys like you must have a lot of, uh, less than pleasant things — you know which aspect I mean." The doctor exhaled softly almost against his ear, his voice as tender as a seductive devil man. "That's why I didn't call the police. You see, according to the regulations, I should've done so; you had bullet wounds and signs of sexual assault... But I didn't, because I know you certainly don't want to face the police questioning in this situation. They're a bunch of legal thugs who will rudely dig into your wounds and turn out all your privacy and everything you don't want anyone to know. At that time, you're like a transparent person, allowing them to see and feel you through, from the inside to the outside, without reservation..."

He perceived the light quiver of the blond hair on the side of his cheek, and knowing that his words had received favorable results, he turned his voice softer and reassuring, "Don't worry. I won't let them do that. You're a good boy, and I'll show you how friendly and... loving I am to you." He rubbed the back of his head tenderly. "Relax, okay, Jason? Don't be so tense. Try to relax your whole body, every muscle. Imagine that they breathe as gently as you do... then close your eyes, don't worry about anything, and think of yourself lying on a soft cloud. This is a happy, quiet dreamland. Enjoy complete relaxation, relax..." He slowly lengthened his voice and was satisfied to see that the other did as he said. The pretty young face gradually showed a complete defenseless daze, as if the mastery of the body were handed over to be manipulated as if helpless. Perhaps women would feel compassion and protectiveness due to their natural maternal feelings, but for men, what arouses more are the excitement and urge to invade and harm.

Douglas brushed his fingertips over the other's alluringly shaped lips, feeling the warmth and softness coming from there, and then went to kiss them excitedly.

The doctor closed the door as he walked out of the ward, taking great care not to make the slightest noise to wake anyone up.

Meanwhile, the sleepy Jason opened his eyes, and that absent-minded state just now faded without a trace. He sat up straight, hugged his knees and curled the corners of his mouth. "Third-rate visualization techniques. If he changes his career to become a hypnotist, I may consider passing on the evaluation written by my advisor to him. But I seem to have found an interesting pastime..." The handsome blond smiled up, walked to the sink, and said to the figure in the wall mirror. "Sorry, Adri, trouble has come to me yet again this time, so thinking will be delayed indefinitely."

"I've heard that this profession has become invulnerable to all kinds of toxicity under the stench of corpses and formalin." 毒du I translated here as 'toxicity,' actually meaning poison, is also translatable to 'malice' (as in malicious words).