Title: My Thermos
Pairings: JDJanitor
Rating: T
Description: Everyday I see him refuse to eat the soup within his large red thermos, stating that it was for JD once he woke up.
Every day I see him sit down and put a large red thermos on the table next to him.
Everyday I see him talk to the comatose form of John Michael Dorian like he was awake and talking back to him.
Everyday I see him sleep over in JD's room, not even bothering to go home.
Everyday I see him wait; wait for him to wake up.
Everyday I see him hope; hope for the best and that JD will wake up with his entire mind intact.
Everyday I see him slip into depression.
… It's been three months now, and JD still hasn't shown any signs of getting better…
Everyday I see him refuse to eat the soup within his large red thermos, stating that it was for JD once he woke up.
Everyday I see him run out of the hospital as fast as he can to make more soup, and than hurry back, still hoping that JD will become better.
Everyday I worry about him…
One day I saw that JD had no hope of waking up ever again.
One day I saw him pull the plug, breaking his heart.
One day I saw him standing on the roof, right foot hovering over the edge.
… "Don't jump!"…
One day, I saw him hurl himself over the edge of the building and fall to his death.
That day I saw his strong arms cave in with the rest of his body.
That day I saw his sturdy legs snap like branches.
That day I saw his skull break and his blood smear.
That day I saw that he, the janitor who used to love me, committed suicide because it was too hard for him to live without the doctor who once loved me as well.
A week later I see his body lying in an open casket, looking as if he had died in his sleep.
A week later I see his tombstone, standing tall next to JD's.
A week later I still mourn over both of their deaths.
A week later I put the red thermos between both their graves, hoping they'll like the soup I cooked. It was tomato…