24

When I woke up, I didn't actually feel like I was awake.

My mind felt fuzzy and my limbs felt numb.

I clutched my blanket tightly, pulling it closer to me.

My chest ached like my heart had been throwing itself against my ribs hard, trying to break free.

My skull throbbed as if I had banged my head against something repeatedly.

There were grooves in my palms from where I had dug my nails in and around them was dried blood.

I reached up and touched my bottom lip, wondering why it hurt.

My fingers brushed against a scab, leaving me to conclude I had bit down hard on my lip in the midst of my panic attack.

I dropped my hand and looked around.

My room was empty and the door was closed.

I pushed myself up into a sitting position, scanning the room for my wheelchair, taking deep and even breaths.

I could feel my voices in the back of my mind, sitting and waiting.

I didn't want to be alone when they hit.

I let out a shaky breath, summoning as much bravery as I could, reaching out and pulling the wheelchair close to me.

Falling was the hardest part, they say.

That's what I've heard about love.

I believe them.

They failed to mention that falling out of your hospital bed hurts like a son of a gun too.

I gasped, pressing my cheek against the cool linoleum floor.

It was probably germ infested but I just didn't care.

It took several moments for me to pull myself together and convince myself to get off the floor.

I pushed hard then pulled myself into the wheelchair.

Ten minutes.

That was how long it took for me to wheel over to the door, get it open, and get out of my room.

I wheeled down the hall, looking around.

It was quiet and there was few people walking around.

Most of the doors were closed, leading me to believe that it was now night time.

I stopped in front of Rose's room, wondering if that was where Shane was, visiting before they both had to say goodnight.

I sighed and reached up, knocking on the door, holding my breath.

I waited three minutes exactly and when no reply came, I knocked again.
Another three minutes.
Still no response.

Rose was either sleeping or was not there.

I sighed and kept rolling down the hall, becoming exhausted quickly from the amount of energy I was exerting to get the wheels moving.

I paused outside of a room with an open door to catch my breath.

My head was tucked down and I was taking deep breaths when I heard his voice.

My head snapped up and a smile spread across my face.

"Gordon!"

Everyone in the room turned and looked at me, confused looks taking over their faces.

But I didn't care.

The only face I cared about was the one that was smiling at me, his green eyes lit up with joy.

I began to cry.

It was stupid and silly, but I sobbed.

I cried and cried and cried, right there in the middle of the hallway, sitting in a wheelchair.

I knew how silly and foolish I must've looked: tangled dark hair, dead brown eyes full of tears, wrinkled pajamas and a pristine white cast on my left leg.

I was sure people were giving me odd looks, but I continued to cry.

Shane rolled me into the room and even then, I still sobbed.

I wasn't sure why I was crying.
Partially relief.

Partially guilt.

Partially love.

I'd fallen in love.

I wasn't sure which hurt worse: falling out of your hospital bed or falling in love with a boy who would never love you back.

My sobs soon turned into quiet whimpers as Gordon stroked my hair and pressed his lips to my forehead.

"Please stop crying, princess. I'm okay. I'm okay."

I let out a loud sob, my shoulders shaking and snot bubbling out of my nose.

He was okay.

He was okay.

But I wasn't.

I was in love.

Finally, I stopped crying.

As soon as I did, I became hyper aware of the other people standing in the room.

Rose sat on Shane's lap, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

A man and woman who looked to be a married couple sat next to each other, holding hands, eyeing me up curiously.

Then there was girl who sat on the floor near the door.

Her hair was lilac, her blue eyes wide and full of hurt, watching me.

I blinked and looked away from them all, looking at Gordon instead.

He smiled at me and kissed my nose then looked up, slipping his hand into mine.

"Mom, Dad, Rena, this is Ana. She's my girlfriend. Ana, these are my parents and my best friend, Rena."

I waved hi, forcing a weak smile onto my face, but unable to help the thrill that went up my spine at Gordon calling me his girlfriend.

I'd never been anyone's girlfriend before so this was all new territory to me.

His mom smiled politely at me and stood up to shake my hand.

I blushed in embarrassment, looking down at my lap after we'd shook hands.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs..."

"Abel. Mrs. Abel."

I smiled and nodded.

"Nice to meet you Mrs. and Mr. Abel."
His dad smiled and said: "Nice to meet you too, Ana. Though it's quite a surprise. I didn't even know my son had a girlfriend."

I laughed lightly, trying to ease the awkwardness.

After a while, everyone dispersed and I ended up lying next to Gordon on his bed.

I played with his fingers, laying my head on his shoulder.

He had his leaned against mine, nose buried in my hair.

I took a deep breath then whispered: "Aren't you sick of hospitals?"
"Yes."

The answer came quickly and I wasn't surprised that it did.

With his depression and his sister's cancer, I knew that he had been to the hospital plenty of times before.

"I'm sick of them too."

He kissed my temple and untangled our fingers so he could brush hair away from my face.

He pressed his lips against my ear and whispered: "I'm never going to get sick of you though, baby."

I couldn't help the stupid smile that formed on my face.

He might not love me back and we might end in flames, but that was okay with me.

He made me happy and that was all that mattered.

His fingers skimmed over the skin just above where my cast began.

"Does it hurt?"

I shrugged and sighed.

"Sometimes. They've hopped me up on painkillers though so I don't feel it a lot of the time."

He nodded slowly and made a 'hmm' sound.

I brushed hair away from his eyes and pressed my nose against his cheek, though I knew it was cold.

He winced slightly and pressed the back of his hand against my nose to warm it up.

I smiled and kissed his cheek.
"How does your head feel, sweetie?"

He huffed and lifted my hand, kissing my knuckles then my palm.

This was him trying to avoid answering me.

I pulled my hand away and intertwined our fingers again.

He sighed and said: "I'm not going to lie. It hurts. A lot. But I'll live so long as I have you."

I tucked my head into the crook of his neck and murmured: "You're going to have me for as long as you want."

I wasn't sure if this was true, but I wanted it to be.

I really wanted it to be.

I wanted him.

And as we fell asleep in each other's arms that night, I hoped that he wanted me too.