The Best Way To Battle Hypothermia

The Christmas party was not going the way I had planned for it to go, by any means.

            The Christmas party was not going quite as smoothly as I had hoped it would. And that was an understatement. I mean, getting the marching band together always ended in some chaos, but never like this. The drumline had been making a mess of things all night while I ran around, trying to hold things together. It was like one of those cartoons. Logan had disappeared a while ago, probably to sit in my room until the more insane band members left, as he usually did when I had people over or dragged him to social events. Callie was awkwardly in the corner flipping through one of her Dickens novels, A Tale of Two Cities most likely. The music blasted louder than I thought my speakers could handle and "was that drummer drunk?! I face-palmed. Could this get much more out of hand? But ah, I thought too soon; the drumline captain, the most perverted and attractive of the bunch, took Callie’s book, smirked, then pulled her up to dance, and everybody knew his intentions were nowhere near correct.

“Mark, why aren’t you dancing?” I looked down to see a s****y blonde pout with too much make-up. The colorguard president, tiny strapless shirt and nonexistent shorts somewhat in place, tried to grab my waist and pull it out to the overpopulated dance floor and I shook my head, laughing, as always.

“Nah, I was just going up to check on Logan. Maybe later.” I winked and she walked away, satisfied, shaking her hips in what she thought was a seductive manner. It was truly disgusting. I mean, she was my ex-girlfriend " did she really think I was affected by that? The tuba section leader danced over to her and pulled her into the crowd and she quickly forgot me. Ah, well " that’s how it goes.

I jumped up the stairs two at a time before anybody else could get to me. “Honey, how’s the party going?” My grandma asked. I just shrugged and made a non-committal noise and she laughed. “Back in my day, we danced to Elvis, not this new bebop nonsense.” She licked her hand and tried flattening the cowlick in the front of my hair, but it was no use. I laughed and swatted her away before hopping up the next set of stairs to my room and knocking on the door.

“Hey, hun?” I pressed my ear to the door, then, receiving no answer, knocked again. “Logan?” I opened the door slowly. “I’m coming in.” Then I realized there was nothing he could be doing that I hadn’t seen him do before, so I just swung the door open. I mean, I had seen him change, sleep, cry, dance, accidentally get drunk, fall off the podium, fangirl over Star Trek… He didn’t have much of anything to hide from me. Except himself, apparently. I searched the whole room for my friend and found no sign he had been there except a note scribbled on an old drill sheet folded lopsided and tossed on my bed. I opened it, curious and slightly worried.

Mark,

I’m going for a walk. Come find me when the drummers go home? I should be back in 20 minutes or so " so by 9:30 ish. You won’t miss me. But just in case. Sorry to bother you.

                             - Logan

I sighed and grabbed my black peacoat, hoping he had the sense to do the same, and hopped back down the stairs, calling a quick explanation to my grandma and Logan’s mom, who were waiting in the living room to chaperone. My phone hadn’t rang at all, but it was 11:00, an hour and a half after Logan should have been back. I swept out the door, feeling pretty epic in my coat on my rescue mission, and marched into the darkness of the streets.

After about a mile of no luck, I called his cell phone and got no answer. God, it would have taken some serious trouble for him not to answer my call. He always answered me, even at those odd hours when I just rolled onto my phone at night and it called him. I kept calling until I heard a faint glimpse of an old stand tune we used to play during the season " Ain’t No Mountain High Enough. I walked toward it slowly and cautiously " you never knew what kind of creeps were out at this hour " and found it was coming from a cell phone that was sitting on a bench, just out of reach from what looked like a homeless man. The figure shivered and twitched like he wanted the phone, but didn’t seem able to move farther.

“Sir? Do you want some help?” I asked cautiously. He just shivered and let out a little squeak that made my heart stop. I glanced down at the phone and saw the words CALL FROM: MARK HEANEY <3 across the screen. The heart at the end of my name caught my attention for a second, but that was quickly dismissed when I realized whose phone it was. I sat next to the frozen boy and took hold of his hands and he moaned and leaned into me. “Logan…” I mumbled as I took off my jacket and wrapped it around his shaking frame, holding him tight against me. “You’re frozen. What happened?” He just curled into me more and slid down so his head was in my lap. His brown eyes blinked shut as I tried to warm him with little luck. “Hold on, hun. I got you.” I checked his vitals - thank God for Boy Scouts " and found his dangerously low heart rate and slow breathing more alarming than anything. Pressing my chapped lips to his cold forehead, I took his phone and called an ambulance; I cradled him as close to my warm body as possible until the paramedics finally arrived.

“Could you tell us his name?” A kind-looking woman asked me as her two male colleagues bundled up my friend and loaded him onto the gurney.

“Logan Benjamin Norrie.” I answered in some sort of automatic voice. “He’s 16. Is he going to be alright?”

“He should be. Good thing you found him.”

“Could I go with him?” She shook her head.

“Only family.” I thought for a second about claiming to be his brother, but that wouldn’t have made sense; I was blonde with pale blue eyes, while he had dark brown hair and eyes that matched. We were about the same height, even though I was a year older and finished growing, and that made no excuse for the heart next to my name.

“I’m his boyfriend.” I lied, smiling and blushing enough to seem realistic. She blushed a bit as well and looked down awkwardly.

“Um… Alright… I suppose, if he was your girlfriend, we’d let you in, and since we’re not allowed to discriminate, I suppose that means you can…” I rolled my eyes at her flawed logic (Callie would have shot her) and gracefully hopped into the ambulance next to Logan. “I need your name as well.”

“Mark.” I hesitated. “Mark Cesario Heaney.” She scribbled it down on her notepad, spelling my middle name incorrectly, and shut the door after climbing in. Logan was shifting uneasily in the stretcher until I took his hand and rubbed it, trying to get some warmth in. The heat in the back of that mobile hospital killed, but at least it was thawing my friend.

At the hospital, I fell asleep in the chair in the waiting room. I’ll admit it, I was exhausted. After a brief phone conversation with my grandma explaining what had happened, I curled up in a waiting room chair and watched The Santa Clause for the 7^th time this season, and it just happened. I fell asleep. A sharp jab to my side woke me up. “Are you sick?” A tiny voice asked me. I blinked awake and saw two giant green eyes right on top of mine and jumped.

“No! No, I’m okay.” I smiled sheepishly while the little girl crawled off of me, her red hair flowing around her pale, freckled face. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend.” My eyes widened as I realized what I had just said.

“Your what?” Her mother asked, glaring at me.

“My friend. Who happens to be male as well.” I explained, all suave. “I haven’t slept much lately.” She nodded skeptically and the little girl climbed back onto my lap.

“Brandon broke his arm.”

“How?” I didn’t even bother to ask who Brandon was. She blushed.

“We were playing and I pushed-ed him.” Her bottom lip came out and she looked like she was about to cry, so I hugged her.

“Jennie Sommers, what have I told you about strangers?” Her mother’s sharp voice cut through the sterilized hospital air and the little girl pulled away from me. “Leave the man alone. You don’t know him.” I was about to get upset and explain that the child needed a friend, but then a redheaded man in his early 20s with a goofy grin came out of the emergency room, his arm in a cast. I laughed and shook my head at him. Yes, Brandon! I should have known. He was an old drum major that helped out with the band at rehearsals.

“Mom, Mark’s awfully strange, but he’s no stranger.” He chuckled and ruffled Jennie’s hair. “He’s in the band. Trumpet section leader. The woman nodded. “What brings you here? Surely you’re not visiting me?” He winked and I rolled my eyes.

“He’s here with his boyfriend!” Jennie giggled out and I felt my cheeks flush.

“What happened to little Logan?” Brad raised an eyebrow like he wasn’t concerned at all about that slip.

“Hypothermia, most likely.”

“Damn. You should work harder on keeping him warm.” He winked again and I blushed deeper and his sister giggled innocently. I whacked him in the chest and he faked hurt.

“Behave.” I mumbled good-naturedly.

“Let’s get you two home.” She picked up little Jennie and motioned sternly for my friend to follow her and the redheaded trio left, leaving me to think on my own.

This would be awkward to explain to Logan. I mean, it would be bad enough explaining why he was in a hospital, but to have to explain why the nurses all thought we were a couple? That was totally different. And it’s a small town. Soon enough, everybody would know. But how bad could it be? And what did that heart mean? Surely he didn’t have a heart after every contact. That would be pointless. But Logan did have an odd logic to him… But never odd enough that I couldn’t figure him out.

“Mr. Heaney, here to see a Mr. Norrie?” A nurse poked her head out of the door and waved me in. I followed, slightly numb, and dropped myself in the chair next to Logan’s bed.

“He’ll be alright, right?” I asked the woman quickly. She nodded and smiled and left us alone. Logan was asleep, so I took his hand and was thrilled to notice that it was warm, almost at a normal temperature.

“I told them we were dating.” I told him. His lips twitched slightly, as if he could hear me, so I continued. “I didn’t think they’d believe we were brothers.” His eyes blinked open slowly.

“Mm’rk?” He mumbled, squeezing my hand.

“The doctors said you’ll be alright, hun.” He blushed a dark red when I mentioned his old nickname. Funny, he was usually fine with it… He locked his eyes on mine and I stared sternly back. “You have a lot of explaining to do.” He hesitated and I thought I was going to get an excuse and apology about why he was out so late and froze himself, but instead, his hands were tangled in the fabric of my sweatshirt near my neck and his mouth was on mine, pressing against my face hungrily. And I was kissing him back.

After a few seconds, I tore away from him and scanned his face for any clues of what just happened, but got almost nothing. “Logan-” He cut me off.

“I’m really sorry, Mark. I didn’t mean to and it was an accident but I like you and-” I pressed a finger to his lips and he smiled. Well, at least the rumors were true now.