Spider

Overall, Jason was quite satisfied with the nurses in this hospital — although they weren't pretty, they had so many sweet smiles that they seemed to be inexhaustible, and their professional skills were quite proficient. The fly in the ointment was that because of the lack of staff, they were constantly called to do other jobs before he could chat and enjoy himself to the full, making his already scarce joy even more scarce.

By now, Jason reckoned it was almost time to change fresh dressing for his wounds, but Cherry sweetie (Cherry seemed to like it when he called her that. It was said that the guy who had done it before had gotten seven or eight needle holes, and half his butt was bruised) hadn't shown up yet. He waited ten minutes, and a young doctor came in through the door.

"Oh, Simon." Jason sighed.

"How are you today, Jason." Simon pushed in a small cart with medicine. "You don't seem to want to see me?"

"I just prefer it were beauties who came in."

The doctor laughed. "The beauties are taking care of the patients who threw up a mess due to collective food poisoning. I don't have a vacant for you to appreciate them for the time being, but I'll convey your wishes for you."

He walked to the bedside and pulled the dividing curtain between the bed wards. "Don't worry, my nursing skills are definitely better than my psychological quality."

"Men who are too petty won't find a girlfriend!" the patient he was teasing with shot back. "And you don't have to pull the curtain. The gentleman next door is probably a Buddhist; I've been doing a striptease in front of him all morning and he hasn't reacted, let alone just a change of dressing."

Simon asked in surprise, "Why on earth were you doing a striptease in front of him?"

"I'm bored." Jason shrugged. "And I'm curious why he can notice when the flowers bloom and wither, but can't see a big living person in front of him? He clearly has his eyes open."

The doctor unbuttoned his clothes to examine the wounds, saying, "Mr. Lange was admitted to our hospital half a year ago because of a car accident. Only a large number of fractures and internal bleeding were originally diagnosed, but later he was found to have a sensory perception disorder caused by partial damage to the cranial nerves. The specific reason is probably not explainable to you at all. You know, cranial nerves are very, very complex. Simply put, he can see with his eyes and hear with his ears, but the nerves can't fully transmit that information to the cerebral cortex — maybe some particular things can, like calla lilies."

Jason nodded, posing as if he was being educated. "That means that because there's a problem with the CPU, he's kinsman to a vegetative person."

"You can understand it like that too. The difference is that he can still think. Of course, we will never know what he's thinking unless a miracle happens." Simon smiled. "All right, the chest bandages on your ribs can be removed. Look at your wounds, they've healed well. The stitches have already dissolved, and the scars aren't noticeable, and they'll fade over time until they disappear. Awesome, you're still a lady-killer with no flaws." He patted Jason's back, motioning him to turn over and lay down on his stomach, and began to take off his underwear.

This position made Jason feel a little embarrassed. He tried to convince himself that he didn't care, that the other was a doctor, and that he could pretend that this was a prostate exam.

The doctor's rubber-gloved fingers stuck some Vaseline on, stretching in to feel around. The icy alien body sensation made Jason shiver. "Okay, the mucosa of the intestinal wall is basically healed. The laceration of the sphincter is not serious, but it might take a little longer to heal. I suggest you better eat liquid or semi-liquid food for another week to avoid infections."

"Well, in any case, all the milk I didn't drink during puberty has already been replenished within this week," Jason said glumly as he pulled on his underwear.

"Maybe you can even grow a second time, and get a few centimeters taller," Simon said jokingly, taking off his gloves. "And there's good news. I'll propose Dr. Neef to discharge you earlier. Has any doctor ever said to you something like, 'Man, you're recovering as fast as an earthworm'?"

Jason hugged him excitedly. "Oh, dear Simon! Although your analogy level is unbearably low, I'm so glad to hear that!"

Simon was taken aback by this sudden act of enthusiasm. He looked down at the blond hair clinging to his chest — its owner was sitting naked on the bed hugging his waist — and for some reason reminded him of his first date with a girl. They were talking on a bench in the bushes, and he felt her voice was a little hoarse, so he shot on his feet and said, 'I'll go get you a box of throat lozenges.' Then the girl just embraced him and buried her fragrant blonde hair in his chest, saying her throat had been sore all day, but he was the only one who noticed, and that she thought he was the one she was looking for. He held her and smiled so happily that he thought they would end up getting married and holding hands for the rest of their lives at the sound of the church bells...

When he came to his senses, he found that the blonde man holding him was looking at him strangely. "Hey, what's wrong? You look—" like you're about to cry. He swallowed the second half of the sentence, as the smile on the other's face had an unspeakable, sorrowful sadness to it.

"I'm still a little curious. Why the hell do you hate hospitals so much?" The young doctor deliberately changed the subject. "Don't deny it. I can see that although the vast majority of people don't like hospitals, it's rarely to the point of abhorrence like you. I'm guessing there's a reason for that. Mind telling me?"

Jason thought for a moment and said, "Maybe I can tell you, but not right now. I'm trying hard to get over it. I'm aware this is some kind of abnormal... Uh, it's probably called a mental disorder. I think I can tell you in a while, by the time I'm discharged from the hospital."

He smiled apologetically at Simon, and was about to let go (actually, the other felt so good in his arms that he didn't quite want to) when the dividing curtain was suddenly lifted, and his attending doctor appeared there.

"Sorry to disturb you two?" Douglas asked with a not-so-subtle smile.

Simon was somewhat nervous and restless when he left, and you could tell he was in revere of his immediate superior. He still remembered the messy performance under him during his internship — he was still a rookie at that time, and whenever his superior exposed that vague smiling expression (like when he wrote the wrong diagnosis report), some kind of huge mental pressure would overwhelm him.

Jason shivered, as his attending doctor was looking at his nearly naked body with a scalpel-sharp gaze, giving him a sense of dread that he was about to be dismembered. He quickly pulled his clothes and put them on but was stopped by the other.

"Don't hurry to cover them up. I want to see them." Douglas ran his fingers lightly over his near-healing wounds. "These are my works of art. How beautiful they are, especially on you."

"Uh, sure, your medical expertise is unquestionable, but may I get dressed first. I'm feeling a little cold, doctor."

Douglas smiled. "So, you hugged Simon for warmth? Oh, that's a wonderful idea. I guess my temperature can satisfy you too." He bent down slowly, with a sense of shadow and oppression, his slender eyes blue as the very deep seawater. Jason stared into his pupils, and the memories buried deep down in his heart crawled out like a corpse in a grave... Perhaps it wasn't a memory. It was blurred by time, more like a period of hallucinations and delusions born from fear. He had repeatedly emphasized to himself, you don't have to be afraid of it, Jason. This is not real, and as long as someone wakes you up, about all of that — the white mask, the shadowless lamp, the scalpel, the sharp pain that cuts through the body... Everything will go away. It’s just a nightmare.

By the time he came back to his senses, he was already lying down. The doctor propped his arm beside his head, the coat enveloping him like a dreadfully pale moonlight, and the stethoscope in his pocket touched his arm, cold as ice.

"You fascinate me, kiddy," he said softly, fingers stroking his muscular chest and nipples. "Really, I've dissected so many corpses and treated so many patients, but no body has ever fascinated me so much... Have you seen what it looks like in here? No, it's a shame I made an incision here — don't be nervous, it's just a small one. I wanted to take a look at the abdominal bleeding; your broken ribs aren't very honest — and then I saw the color inside: an extraordinary, beautiful bright red. The internal organs had quite a gloss, so lovely in shape, wriggling with energy. I took a couple of pictures as a souvenir of your in-depth learning. Would you like to see them?"

Jason shook his head vigorously. He had heard the word 'fascinating' countless times, but no guy had ever said it like he did, full of necrophiliac nuances, like a jar of formalin that had been left in for too long and spoiled. He didn't want to soak himself in it either. He was about to throw up, as a matter of fact.

"You don't look very good. Where are you not feeling well?" his attending doctor tenderly asked. "Is it here? (he touched his stomach) Does it hurt here? (liver) Or here? (right rib)" His finger rested on the injured rib and pressed it, and Jason gasped.

"Oh, look, they haven't grown well yet, but the owner's clamoring to be discharged. It's not good to be so willful." Douglas pressed down hard and smiled. "If they break again and stab internal organs, it certainly will be troublesome. But it's okay, I'm confident that my medical skills are pretty good and will bring you back."

The excruciating pain made Jason feel that the two newly attached ribs would snap off again in the next second! He grasped the other's wrist with all his might and cried out in fright, "Don't do this, doctor!"

Douglas looked at the expression of the person below him in satisfaction. He was so scared that he was on the verge of tears, his emerald green eyes filled in child-like innocent grievances and dismay after the shock. His lips trembled slightly, as if he were sending an invitation to comfort and taste. "Don't do such a cruel thing to me, doctor. I don't want to go to the operating table... I have a trauma on that..."

"Honest boy. I suppose I'll have to reward you." Douglas kissed those trembling lips, and the deliciousness of his mouth and the sobbing nasal voice quickly hardened his lower body. His fingers fumbled obsessively all over his body, finally stopping between his thighs and rubbing his back hole through a thin layer of fabric. Jason felt a burst of pain. His lacerations there had not yet healed, but he knew it was useless to mention it. No one knew more about his injuries than his attending doctor, and it looked like the other didn't mind at all if his patient stayed in the hospital for a few more days because of the aggravation of his wounds.

The tightly closed hole was forcibly opened, and the other's fingers drilled in flexibly and skillfully, bringing back the tearing pain. Jason arched his back up and breathed in, trying to ease the unbearable pain, his palms clenched against the edge of the bed.

"Vaseline? Oh, it's from Simon." Douglas let his fingers in and out of his body, gradually getting smoothly. "He's such a good assistant. He even has lube ready for me." He untied his belt and zipped down his trousers. The part inside bounced out at once, and Jason closed his eyes to not see the size of the thing.

Douglas kissed his chest and smiled. "Lovely kiddy, this is sex, not an operating table. Don't give that look... it'll turn me on even more."

Jason turned his head, his disheveled hair shading his expression, and his fingers clung to the iron frame along the edge of the bed. He didn't utter a word, perhaps because he was frightened, but Douglas was more willing to believe that it was a helpless and humiliating acquiescence, like a desperate little beast's resignation and submission to the end. This idea made his lower body harder and harder with impatience.

"Relax, or you'll start bleeding again. Of course, I'd inject you morphine, atropine and hemostat then, or even have a sphincter suture right away, but I don't think you'd like that, would you." He pulled his legs apart and bent his knees to both sides.

A loud bang suddenly broke the air, like the sound of something smashing on an iron bed stock, which was particularly shocking in this quiet ward. The noises came one after the other, with an increasing rhythm, and heavier and heavier.

Douglas was stunned for a moment and reacted like a conditioned reflex. It was the patient in the adjacent bed, and he was having violent, generalized convulsions!

He jumped up from the bed, hastily zipped up, pulled open the dividing curtain and rushed over. The sick patient bounced violently like a living fish thrown into boiling water, and his limbs pounded ferociously against the bedpan like twisted, stiff pieces of wood, as if in some kind of bizarre, dreadful religious ceremony — a ceremony that only the doctors knew was a tribute to the Grim Reaper.

Douglas lunged forward and tried his best to hold down the patient's convulsive body, but the strength of the other's outburst was so great that he could barely contain it before he was pushed into flying out. He grabbed a pillowcase and strived to stuff it into the patient's mouth to prevent him from biting off his tongue, and shouted, "Jason! Press the emergency pager on the wall! Hurry! Tell them to bring sedatives!"

Jason did what he said subconsciously, then quickly got dressed and got out of bed, looking at the doctor and patient who were fighting each other in amazement. They were simply engaged in a fierce close fight. What amazed him all the more was the look on Douglas' face at this time, which was calm and solemn, but displayed anxiety and concern fueled by a sense of duty, with a trace of self-confidence underneath his eyes. That insidious look that was gentle, flirtatious and malicious when facing him vanished as if it had never appeared on his visage.

While Jason felt odd, he had to admit that this Dr. Douglas was quite attractive.

It's a pity that the doctor was too busy to care about his aesthetic standards at this time, and he yelled at him, "What the hell are you doing standing here? Go find some guy with no broken bones to come in and help out — why isn't the sedative coming, he's choking us both to death!"

Jason hurried out the door, but fortunately several doctors and nurses were already rushing this way, with Simon running at the front of the line. He didn't even notice Jason, leaping directly into the room and pushing 20ml of sedative into the patient's veins.

The medicinal power soon took effect, and the patient's body gradually went limp, twitching slightly twice from time to time, but apparently already stabilized. Several medical staff who suppressed him breathed a sigh of relief, and a nurse muttered, "Poor Mr. Lange. I hope this isn't a sign of his condition worsening."

Douglas rubbed his nearly dislocated wrist and instructed, "Simon, inform Drs. Bates and Walsh in Neurology to come to my office for a meeting. We may have to change the next step in the treatment. Cherry, go inquiry if the NMR is available now and schedule a brain exam as soon as possible," he took a few steps and looked back at the cabinet, "and then call the flower shop and have them deliver a new bouquet of calla lilies. Did no one of you notice that the bouquet had withered already? Others, go to work, damn it!"

Several of the medical staff dispersed as quickly as they had come, and Jason stood at the door in a daze.

Douglas straightened his clothes, went over and put his arm around his shoulder. "Well done, lad," he said against his ear, that chillingly gentle tone of voice returning to him. "I'm going to reward you properly when I'm done with this."

Jason closed the door and let out a long breath. His roommate was lying quietly in bed, not looking like he'd made a scene just now. He went over and leaned over to look at him. "You just did charity, dear Mr. Lange, though you aren't really aware — you saved my virginity," he laughed when he said the word, "and Dr. Neef's health as well. You know, besides doctors, I hate seeing police officers, so I rarely lose control of my emotions like this, but hospitals always make me tense. I think I should kiss you to express my gratitude." He kissed the other's heavily bearded cheek cheerfully and returned to his own bedside, affixing a light, sharp, double-edged razor blade back under the bed frame.