Don't Wake Me Up | Chapter 3

            He only had one bed, so he placed Ansel in it. It had been quite the trial for Darcy to carry his heavier friend up two sets of stairs to the second floor of the house�"his father’s, passed down to him in his will alongside a decent amount of money�"but it was something the former doctor did almost eagerly. Once he had him lying on his back comfortably, Darcy slumped to his knees beside the bed, watching his friend. He was very tired, but he fought away sleep.

            Ansel was back, and that was all that mattered to him. For a brief moment, he was happier than he’d been in two years, but then he started to think. He’d summoned a demon with Ansel; however, he had no idea which demon, since Bradley never told him. All the teacher had said was to not tell Ansel that he was dead, if he decided to ignore the indirect warning that Ansel might be different, which he didn’t. Only then did he consider the potential consequences. What if he caused Ansel to suffer again? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

            The young man on the bed made a quiet noise in the back of his throat, like the beginning of an uncomfortable groan, and it brought Darcy’s full attention onto him immediately. The doctor just stared in stunned, hopeful silence as he watched Ansel’s dark brown eyes drift slowly open. He watched him look around before his eyes finally fell onto Darcy himself, and the insomniac smiled gently.

            “Darcy…”

            Darcy couldn’t help but lunge forward, pulling Ansel into a tight embrace. Still weak, the younger man was only able to reciprocate the embrace lightly. “Ansel, oh God, I’m… I’m so happy you’re…” He remembered Bradley’s warning and was more careful with his words, “You’re awake…!”

            “I was just resting my eyes, man…” Ansel chuckled.

            Darcy started to cry due to the sheer relief he felt. Ansel didn’t seem to understand why he was so emotional, but he said nothing of his confusion, simply continuing to carefully rub the former doctor’s back.

            “Hey, it’s okay, Peanut… I’m here.”

            “Is it really you?” Darcy sobbed.

            “Of course,” Ansel answered in a soft, comforting voice, “who else would I be?”

            It took a couple of minutes, but soon Darcy finally gained the strength to pull back from Ansel, who stood up and looked around a bit more. He could see that Ansel seemed noticeably confused, but he wasn’t able to figure out about what on his own. “What’s the matter?” He asked.

            “This isn’t our bedroom,” Ansel observed. “Where are we?” Then he looked back at the bed. “Whose bed is this, Darc?”

            Darcy tittered nervously. It would be hard to explain everything to Ansel without telling him about his death. “It’s mine. This is my bedroom.”

            Ansel shook his head. “No.”

            “We’re in my old house. The one I shared with my dad.”

            “When did this happen?”

            “Well, about a week after… y’know, they read my dad’s will. He left me the house and some money.”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            Darcy’s brows furrowed. “What do you remember, Ansel?”

            Ansel had to think about that.

            “Do you remember anything?”

            “Yeah!” He blurted defensively. “Yeah, I remember…” He seemed lost. “Um…” Then something hit him. “Oh. You were talking about Monday?”

            “Monday?” Darcy asked.

            “The Monday after your dad. The Monday when everything…” He did a hand gesture, suggesting that he wanted Darcy to continue.

            “Oh, yeah. That was a Monday, wasn’t it?” The doctor laughed. “I’d forgotten about that…”

            “You forgot about Monday? I mean, I guess it’s not like that was the biggest day of our lives or anything.”

            “I didn’t mean it like that. I just forgot that it was on a Monday.”

            Ansel chuckled for a moment before stopping abruptly. He reached up and felt his mustache with his fingers, which made Darcy tense up. “Uh…” The young man pulled his hand back and pointed up at his face. “I’ve got my facial hair back.”

            “Yeah…”

            “But I shaved.”

            “Do you know what day it is today?”

            “December 25^th, 2016.” Ansel answered confidently. “Sunday.”

            Darcy felt a bead of sweat run down the side of his face. He didn’t say anything, unsure if he should correct Ansel or not.

            “Right?”

            Darcy lowered his head.

            Ansel shrugged and idly fiddled with his pants, uncomfortably trying to adjust them, since Darcy had a bit of difficulty dressing him in the dark and all. “I think my briefs are backwards,” he quipped. “I musta been pretty out of it yesterday.”

            “Ansel?”

            Ansel looked up at him, his expression casual and friendly. “Yep?”

            The former doctor took an uneasy sigh. “We, uh… We need to talk.”

            “Uh, sure…” Ansel’s warm smile faded. “’Bout what?”

            “What else do you remember? About… About everything leading up to ‘yesterday’?”

            The young man averted his eyes. “Well, I remember that Jay’s dead. And you…”

            “Yes?” Darcy coaxed.

            “You… You died. In my arms.” He shook his head. “I guess I never told you, huh? Sorry about that. It just… it really messed with me, y’know? I saw the life fade from your eyes. You… stopped breathing on my lap.”

            Darcy, too, looked away. Ansel had no idea how much what he was saying was reverberating within the doctor, reminding him of how the insomniac himself had died. It almost sounded identical.

            “I don’t really remember anything after that until the hospital.” Ansel continued. “You were alive again. Dunno how, but I’m glad.”

            “What else?”

            “You cried. A lot. I…” The young man appeared to space out, and his voice lost a certain degree of emotion, as if he was finally starting to remember his final days alive. “I was dying. You apologized to me, told me that we ‘were supposed to have a happy ending’… and I told you not to cry.”

            Darcy shuddered and tried to smile despite the tears beginning to well up in his eyes. “Yeah, I still remember that…”

            “You didn’t come back after that. So I checked myself out on the first night of Hanukkah, paid twenty dollars for jelly donuts�"” he laughed, “�"for five dollar donuts; I feel ripped off�"and then I walked home. You came downstairs when I called, we took the elevator, and then I went to sleep on your lap.” He paused for a second. “Then I woke up here.”

            “That’s all you remember?”

            “Yeah.” Ansel replied. “Why, did I miss something?”

            There was really only one choice. He couldn’t hide the date from Ansel forever. So, with a shaky breath, Darcy began lying through his teeth. “You’ve been in… this sort of comatose state… off and on, for two years.”

            Ansel just stared at him.

            “Some days you’d be awake, but not enough to really, y’know, recognize me. I was so worried about you, Ansel.”

            Nervously, Ansel started to laugh, stammering, “Funny joke, Darc, but I think I’d know if I was half-asleep for two years.”

            “I’m not kidding. Check your phone. It’s still in your pocket.”

            Ansel hesitantly reached into his pocket. “I really don’t know what you hope…” He trailed off when he tried to turn on his phone. “Battery’s dead.”

            “Right. Here.” Darcy pulled his own phone from his pocket and turned it on, but didn’t unlock it. With the time and date visible�"1:03 AM, December 4^th, 2018�"he turned the screen toward Ansel, who gazed at it quietly for several seconds. “It’s been two years. I’ve… I’ve been waiting for you this whole time.”

            “No, you…” Ansel vacantly shook his head. “You wouldn’t… You wouldn’t’ve. You would’ve… You should’ve moved on.”

            “And left you behind?” Darcy put his hand on Ansel’s shoulder, his thumb gently placed against the younger man’s neck. “Ansel, you mean more to me than anyone else in the whole world. No way I’d leave without you… Not in a million years.”

            The slightly shorter man smiled, but wasn’t sure how to respond, so he changed the subject. “So it’s really been two years, huh? I’m alive?”

            Darcy nodded. “Yeah, Ansel. You’re alive.”

            “What have I missed?”

            The former doctor chuckled and lowered his head. “I’ll explain everything in the morning, I promise. I’m very tired.”

            “Heh, same. Which is kind of odd, since I’ve been asleep for two years.”

            Darcy managed a genuine smile. He had forgotten what it felt like to be happy.

            The two of them stood in front of each other awkwardly for a few seconds, neither wanting to be the first to step back, but Darcy took one for the team and stepped over to a chair in the corner of the room, sitting down on it. Ansel gave him a vaguely concerned look as he got comfortable.

            “Wait,” he stated, “this is your bed.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Well, shouldn’t you sleep in it?”

            “Err, I mean, it’s technically your bed now. You’ve been sleeping here.”

            “Don’t you have another bed? This is your dad’s house, right? So why not his bed?”

            “I don’t go in there.”

            Ansel frowned. “You don’t seriously sleep on that chair, do you?”

            He didn’t, but he didn’t want to sleep in a room without Ansel. “I do.”

            “Dude,” the younger man whined, “no! Man, I wish I’d been awake just to talk you out of that! There’s a couch, right? I’ll sleep on that.”

            “No way. You need to rest comfortably.”

            “Peanut, you look like Hell. If anyone needs a comfortable rest, it’s you.”

            “I’m fine.”

            Ansel sighed and held up his arms in surrender. “Fine,” he succumbed, “sleep in that chair, but if you’re not leaving this room, then I’m gonna say it: this bed’s pretty big.” He pulled the blanket back and sat down on the mattress, not looking at Darcy as he continued to talk. “Now, if you’re too much of a p***y to sleep beside me, so be it. But I’m just sayin’: if you were to climb in beside me; I don’t care.” He laid down on his side, pulling the covers over himself, and then he stubbornly concluded, “G’night, Peanut.”

            Darcy sat in silence for a few minutes. He wasn’t sure how to react to Ansel’s offer, or whether or not it was a joke. Still, it would be better than trying to fall asleep on the chair… but he was nervous. He’d never slept beside anyone before. He was close with Ansel, but he wasn’t sure if they were “sleeping in the same bed” close. So, he tried his own idea of sleeping in the chair. After twenty minutes, he had achieved nothing other than a sore back, so he sat up and huffed.

            Ansel seemed to be asleep. With a nervous gulp, the former doctor quietly stood up from the chair and approached the bed. Gingerly, he lifted the covers, slipping in beside his friend. The bed felt warm, but he couldn’t tell if it actually was, or if his body was just burning from the embarrassment of lying beside another man�"despite that other man being his best friend. However, he felt sleep beginning to overcome him regardless, and he glanced over at the back of Ansel’s head before turning over onto his side�"his back to Ansel’s�"and closing his eyes.

            “Goodnight, Poppet…”

---

 

            Suddenly, he was running down a street. It was dark and snowy outside, and he was running past houses with beautiful lights, but he didn’t�"couldn’t�"slow down. Something was chasing him. He needed to get away. It felt like he was running in slow motion, and though he tried to run faster, he could feel his pursuer gaining on him.

            The former doctor dashed into a park, beginning to trudge through snow while trying to keep his speed. He could hear laughter not just behind him, but all around him, and he wondered for a moment if he was surrounded, or if he was just imagining the other voices. Whatever the case, he kept running. Trees bent unnaturally as he passed them. Panic began to flood his system. Everything felt wrong, and it terrified him.

            “Ansel!!” He screamed out for his friend in terror before he tripped in the snow, falling forward into the cold white. For a long moment, he laid there. Everything was quiet around him. He thought that maybe it was over; safe.

            “Darcy.” There was someone standing behind him that sounded like Ansel, but at the same time, somehow didn’t. Either way, the way they said his name sent an extra chill down his spine. He didn’t want to get up, but then he was grabbed by the nape of his neck and ripped up to his feet, where he was turned to see the person that was talking to him; it was Ansel, but his eyes, whites and all, were glowing a scarlet red. He snarled at him, but Darcy only saw a glimpse of him…

            “Where do you keep the razors and shaving cream?”

            … and then he was awake, staring up at the ceiling. After a second, he turned his head, looking toward the door to his left. Ansel was standing in the doorway, looking down at him a tad impatiently. Though he’d just been asleep, the nurse hardly felt rested.

            “What?” He asked back, not having understood Ansel’s question since it had jolted him from his sleep.

            “Razors and shaving cream. I know you don’t like this facial hair I’ve got going.”

            Darcy sat up, shaking his head in protest. “No,” he replied, “you should keep it. It’s grown on me.”

            Ansel smiled; he had always liked having facial hair, but shaved it only for Darcy’s satisfaction. “You sure it doesn’t bother you?”

            “It’s fine. It suits you.”

            “Glad to see we’re finally seeing eye-to-eye on this,” remarked Ansel.

            Darcy scratched his head and groaned. “What time is it?”

            Ansel shrugged. “Dunno.”

            “You still have my phone. I think.”

            “Oops.” Ansel pulled Darcy’s phone from his pocket and tossed it at the former doctor, who failed to catch it. He picked it up from his lap and checked the time: 10:42 AM.

            “S**t!” He threw the blankets aside and leapt to his feet, grabbing his coat from the chair. All the while, Ansel stared at him.

            “What’s the matter?”

            “I need to be at work!”

            “But you promised you’d explain everything to me.” The younger man crossed his arms and pouted in jest.

            “Come with me.” Darcy demanded.

            Ansel lowered his arms. “You know I hate that hospital, Darc.”

            “I don’t work at the hospital anymore.”

            “What? Since when?”

            “Since two years ago. I’m not technically a doctor anymore. I stepped back.”

            “Why?”

            Darcy lowered his head in shame. “Because I failed you.” He admit quietly.

            “Darcy…” Ansel frowned. “You didn’t fail me.”

            Darcy looked up at his friend, beginning to hear what he hadn’t entirely realized he needed to hear.

            “You did the best you could. I mean, I’m alive, aren’t I? It’s not like your mistake actually cost me my life or anything.”

            “But�"!” The nurse caught himself and sighed.

            “I don’t know what you think, Darc, but I don’t hold anything against you.”

            Darcy really wanted to accept those words, but those were the words of a man who was unaware that the misdiagnosis had been his literal death. Conflicted and not quite as satisfied as he wished he could have been, the doctor massaged his forehead with his fingers. “Thanks, Ansel.” He remarked anyway, since he at least appreciated the sentiment. “That means a lot to me.”

            Ansel paused for a beat with a gentle smile before asking, “So, where do you work now, then?”

            “A local high school.” He told him. “I’m a nurse there. Look, we’re really late. I’ll explain on the way there.”

            The younger man shrugged. “Well, I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

            “Are you feeling alright?”

            “Yeah. Better than ever, in fact.” Ansel answered honestly. “Why?”

            “No reason, really.”

            “Are you alright? You seem a bit shaken.”

            “I just had a weird nightmare. I’m good.”

            “You sure?”

            “Yeah.”

---

 

            It was so surreal to have Ansel sitting in the passenger seat again. Just the day before, the man had been nothing but a memory, but now here he was, back as if nothing had ever happened. Honestly, it was tripping Darcy out; at least four times already he could’ve sworn he saw things in the corners of his eyes that weren’t there. It was extra dismaying for him that only half of him was pleased to have Ansel back. The other half was terrified. He had just indirectly helped raise a man from the dead, after all, but he wanted to be happy. He wanted to be done with fear and uncertainty, but he felt those two emotions almost stronger than before. Everything felt like the way it used to be, but something felt wrong. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was, though.

            Ansel didn’t seem any different, besides the fact that he was two months younger than he’d been when he died. The thought that perhaps he really had died hadn’t occurred to him yet. How could it? If he had died, he had no reason to think that black magic had anything to do with him getting a second chance at life.

            Perhaps, the doctor hoped, it was merely the fear that Ansel would find out the truth sooner or later that bothered him so. He knew that it would be impossible to keep Ansel in the dark about what really happened that first night of Hanukkah two years prior forever. He just wasn’t sure why it was important that Ansel not find out. What had Bradley meant by his warning? If Ansel found out he had been brought back from the dead, what was the worst that could possibly happen? Regardless, he didn’t want to test fate, so he decided to just keep lying.

            “So,” Ansel broke the ice, “two years, huh?”

            “Yep.” Darcy replied. “Loneliest two years of my life, to be honest…”

            “Man, I’m sorry. I wish I remembered more of it.” Then, in an uncomfortable tone, he asked, “Could you turn off the radio?”

            Darcy immediately furrowed his brows and glanced at Ansel. “Radio? What radio?”

            “Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Ansel anxiously giggled. “Your dash doesn’t have one.”

            Darcy gave his friend a long, concerned look. Ansel noticed, looking back at him with a worried expression of his own.

            “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy.”

            “What did you mean?”

            “I just wanted you to turn off the radio.”

            “There isn’t a radio.”

            “I know that now.”

            “So what did you mean?”

            “I dunno!” The former insomniac laughed awkwardly, “I just… I could’ve sworn I heard some a*****e talking about something I wasn’t interested in listening to. Man, I must be losing my mind.” He said the last sentence as a joke to make his confession a little bit less frightening, but it hardly lightened the blow for Darcy.

            “Dude, really, are you okay?” He inquired. “Do you feel like yourself?”

            “Yeah, Darcy, I’m fine.” Ansel insisted. “Like I said, I’ve never felt better.”

            “Well, I mean, you just told me you were hearing a disembodied voice that I couldn’t hear, so I think you’re kind of contradicting yourself.”

            “Nah, I’m sure it’s nothing. I was just in a coma for two years. Weird s**t’s bound to happen, right?”

            The excuse did very little to ease Darcy, but he let it slide. He wanted to pretend that everything was and would be okay, and if Ansel wanted that too, he would be fine with that. So, when some part of him began screaming that he had made a mistake bringing Ansel back, he shut that part out of his mind and ignored his instincts, choosing instead to believe wholeheartedly that Ansel was fine; that everything would be just fine.

            “Why did you want me to come with you, anyway?” Ansel finally asked.

            “There’s someone who wants to see you,” answered Darcy, with a forced smile of denial stretched across his thin face.

            Everything would be fine… he hoped.