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p r e c i o u s

Callum and I got to the hospital minutes after Molly did, arriving just in time to see her being wheeled down the hallway, donned in a light blue hospital dress. I rushed up to her, clasping her hand tightly as I followed her into the room and helped her onto the bed.

"Charlie will be here any minute," I told her, when she asked about him, "He'll be here, I promise. Until then, Callum and I will be here for you."

The furrow etched between Molly's eyebrows eased as she heard my words, I could almost see her ears perking up. "Hello," she greeted cordially. "How're your bruises? You didn't look too good the last time you dropped by."

"I'm alright," Callum replied, without missing a beat. He grasped her hand when she offered it; let her squeeze his hand when she groaned through another wave of contractions. "How're you feeling?"

"Oh, just wonderful," she said, mildly, a miraculous feat – considering that she was practically going into labour at any moment. "You know, Scout's talks a lot about you. I think you're good for her."

My mouth fell open. Unbelievable. I could hardly wrap my head around the fact that Molly was trying to match-make us whilst having a baby.

"You make her happy," Molly continued, oblivious to my annoyed nudges, "You make her less of a bore – "

"I'm not a bore!" I exclaimed, as Callum chuckled. "Aren't you supposed to be having contractions?"

She glared at me, her mood abruptly taking a 180-degree turn for the worse. "I do, that's why I was talking to Callum to take my mind of the pain but now the pain is back – thank you very much!" Turning to the nurse who was arranging the equipment, Molly grabbed her by the arm. "Where's the ice? Or the epidural? Or the doctor or am I supposed to have these kids be my midwives?"

The nurse stared back, alarmed. "Didn't they give you the epidural earlier on? It's far too late to take it now."

"No, there was no epi-freaking-dural – and now I'm going to die giving birth!" Molly shrieked, now looking truly panicked as the nurse scuttled out to get the doctor.

After feeling the slight pressure of Callum's hand on my shoulder, I reached down and eased Molly back onto the pillow. "You're going to be fine," I repeated, "You have me."

And I held her hand through the next wave of contractions, squeezing my eyes shut but not flinching as she gripped my hand in a vice-like grip. Through it all, I felt Callum's presence behind me. He was like a pillar of strength; helping me to be courageous when I could not be.

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But I had to leave the room eventually to contact Charlie again, because I was certain he didn't want to miss the birth of his child. After getting through his line and telling him about the current situation, I hung up, heaving a sigh of relief. Charlie was already on his way. He was going to be here and everything was going to be fine.

I headed back towards the delivery room, where I'd left Molly and Callum together. It was rather unsettling, almost surreal to see the two of them in the same room together – two people who had heard so much about each other but had never had the opportunity of meeting. And now they had finally met, in the most bizarre situation possible.

Molly's groans could be heard from outside the door, and the doctor was already putting on his gloves. But what made me stop and hover for a bit was the sight of Callum kneeling by her side, so that his face was levelled with hers. The door was opened with a slight gap, and I could hear them speaking to each other, their voices low but clear.

"You've been to England?" Molly's voice was a tired rasp, but there was a definitive tone of interest in it.

"Yeah," Callum replied, easily, "My grandparents migrated there two summers ago, and I stayed with them during the holidays to get treated."

"I'd like to go. For my honeymoon with Charlie, we went to Paris. Maybe we'll bring the baby along with us for a vacation to London next time."

"And Scout?" came Callum's surprising question.

"Of course Scout's coming. She's family."

I had to linger by the doorway for a bit, to catch my breath then. The mention of the holiday did not stun me, although it did come as a surprise. Besides, I had already considered Molly and Charlie as my family for years, so that was nothing new.

But what made my heart stutter, made me rethink everything I had believed and known was true, were Callum's words: He needed treatment, some time in the past. I didn't know what he needed treatment for, but Greg's words about his meltdown came to mind. Maybe it was that.

Or, maybe, it was something else altogether. All I knew, at that moment, was that he was broken some way or other. No – I wasn't going to fix him. I couldn't do that, I was no therapist. But I was beginning to understand, and wasn't that all that mattered?

Pushing the door open, I headed towards them, and their conversation faded. Molly offered me a weak smile as she noticed how worried I looked. Callum had clearly calmed her down by talking to her.

"Charlie's on his way," I told her, softly, "You alright there?"

"No," she returned, without missing a beat. "But Callum here reminded me that all pain is fleeting. Physical pain, anyway."

I met Callum's gaze, and he smiled. My eyes travelled to where he was gripping Molly's hands tight. She seemed to be digging her nails into his skin, but he didn't seem to mind.

And that was when it finally made sense to me – how Callum, when he was beaten up during Hell Week, treated his wounds like they were everyday occurrences. It suddenly dawned on me that physical hurt never really hurt him the way words could and did.

There are many forms of bullying. Callum was a bully. He bullied people physically, by beating them up, thrashing them. But I failed to realise that Jason was a bully of his own form too, because he knew Callum's Achilles' heel and had no qualms about attacking him mercilessly. You could slap a person, hit them, kick them in the stomach, make them suffer. But emotional and psychological torture is equally as bad, if not worse.

People say that sticks and stones can break your bones, but words can't hurt you. They're wrong.

Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words can kill.

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Charlie did arrive, eventually, just in time – for Molly was beginning to pant heavily, her contractions hitting her one wave after another. After thanking us for looking after Molly, Charlie made Callum and me sit in the waiting room.

I was anxious, frustratingly so. I could hardly wait for Gerard to be born but, at the same time, I wanted to be there for Molly and journey through with her pain. And then I realised I couldn't do that. I could never do that. I wasn't pregnant, I hadn't given birth before – thus, the least I could do was to sympathise.

It was the same with Jason. I could never empathise with him, and our friendship was now in ruins, far too irreparable for me to even begin to mend. And then there was Callum, whose problems I knew I was never going to be able to empathise with either. But he had not shut me out as Jason had before so, at the very least, there was a glimmer of hope there.

My thoughts were abruptly cut off when Callum pushed the door open to the waiting room, two paper cups of coffee in both of his hands. I grabbed the coffee from him eagerly and brought it to my lips.

"Careful," he warned, as he settled down beside me on the couch. "It's hot."

I sipped at it carefully, before scrunching my nose in distaste. "It's sort of bland."

"Coffee in hospitals never taste particularly good anyway," he returned, with a smile. But as I turned to look at him, he sobered up. "I came to a conclusion earlier on at the vending machine."

My eyebrows rose, but I waited for him to speak, undeniably curious about what he had to say.

"If I ever have a kid," he started, slowly, eyes shifting away so that he was looking at his worn-out sneakers. "I don't want him to be bullied. I always imagined – were I to have a kid – he'd be just like me. Tough, taking shit from no one. But what if he isn't? What if he turns out to be someone like Burke, or any of the other science club losers? That wouldn't make him any less my kid, he'd still be my loser and I'd probably still love him all the same."

I let his words settle into the silence as I mulled over what he had said. "You want kids?" I asked, at last, my lips tugging up into a teasing smile.

He shrugged. "And a dog. And a house in the suburbs, far away from this shithole."

Chugging the rest of my coffee, I crushed the empty cup and set it down on the table in front of us.

"Honestly, I don't know what to say," I told him, softly. "Just hearing you say this reaffirms the fact that I know almost close to nothing about you. It's like we just dived in midway through our story – if there even was one to begin with. Just like how I dived headfirst into Hell Week, not knowing the how and the why and the what and the history between you and Jason."

"I'm not exactly the best person you'd want to get to know," he pointed out, "I might disappoint you. I already have."

"I'll decide that for myself. Even if it means getting hurt in the process. It's a risk I'm willing to take."

He kept silent for a long while. I could almost hear the tick-tick-tick from the clock on the wall. But then, at last, he broke the silence.

"I will win you back," I heard him say, his voice almost inaudible, like he was speaking to himself. "I will. No matter what it takes."

"Okay," I found myself saying, the words leaving my lips without even me thinking them through. Taking a deep breath, I leaned my cheek against his shoulder, felt him freeze in surprise, before he shifted, his lips brush briefly against the top of my head. "It might take some time, but the door's always open."

My words sunk into the silence, and it was then that I realised something I hadn't known all the while. That when you pulled yourself away from a person you loved, you finally began to see the bigger picture.

This wasn't a story about Callum being a bully, or of Jason seeking revenge, or of Hell Week and what happened after that. This was the story of me, the story of Callum, the story of us.

I was never going to be able to stop the bullying that happened. No one was. It wasn't going to end in high school. People get bullied in workplaces every day by their bosses, or even at home by their own family members.

Eventually, I came to realise that it was a test of endurance. Because life's like that. It's not meant to be easy. It's a narrow, winding path that just seems to take forever sometimes. And we must endure it, leave all the negativity behind, and remember that it gets better eventually. Maybe not today, not tomorrow, but someday.

"What now?" Callum asked, and I couldn't be sure if he was referring to the both of us, or of Gerard, who was due anytime soon and whose arrival we were both waiting anxiously for.

But it didn't matter, for I found something entirely precious about that moment. It was filled with silence, and within that silence encapsulated hope, along with the promises of a better tomorrow and of new life.

So I smiled, and shut my eyes.

"We wait."

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