The Thing about Falling ✓

Forty Eight • The Help

Athena

I never knew breaking an arm was such a hassle.

I know things like these make the university's higher ups be all concerned about your well-being and your coping mechanisms when it comes to injury or disability, and they do whatever they can to lighten the load. Even with the perks the school gave me for the time being, this a pain in the neck.

Fitz and I were in one of the coffee shops off campus, doing whatever schoolwork needed to be done by the end of the day. While he was casually sipping his coffee as his dark eyes squinted towards the screen of his laptop, I merely stared at mine.

With only one hand, I was incredibly slow at a snail's pace when it comes to typing out all the words in my head. It was annoying how I type the words singlehandedly until I eventually forget what to put in next. In frustration, I hastily grabbed my cup of coffee to drink, but I was too rash and it ended up spilling all over my blouse.

"Fucking hell." I hissed, as I immediately put down the cup, and peered over what remained of the coffee. Might I tell you, it was not much.

Fitz shot his head up at me from the opposite side of the table, and only gave me a pitiful look.

"You want me to run all the way back to the dorm again, or?" he asked, trailing off.

Wiping off the huge, brown stain the coffee left on my white blouse with a moist tissue, I frustratingly shook my head at him and grunted.

"Nope. I think I could work with this, thanks." I said, harshly wiping off the stain.

Fitz watched me angrily battle this damn stain on my blouse. I mean, a small stain would be fine, but a stain the size of a fist? One that cascades down the middle of my chest like a spear went through me? Yeah, that's fun.

After a few minutes of scrubbing single-handedly, I groaned and took out a lavender cardigan out of my bag. It was a cropped version of a normal one, and I slid my good arm into one of the long sleeves, leaving the casted one hanging inside. I can't budge it in anyway.

At least I don't look like a spear pierced my chest or something.

"Go back to the dorm and change. That stain would be hard to get rid off once it dries and goes all crusty." Fitz told me, before turning his gaze back towards his laptop. He was working on something too.

I frowned and peered inside the cardigan I wore and over at the stain.

"If I do, washing machines would lose their potential. Besides, I need to get at least half of this done before the end of the week." I told him before I frustratingly started typing something before I ultimately delete them again.

I can't seem to get my thoughts straight.

"There's still a couple days before the week ends. Why not rest for a while? You seriously broke an arm. Profs would understand." he said, shrugging.

I deepened my frown and sat back into the soft, linen chair of the café we went to, my fingers tracing the edges where seams have been sewn.

"They would, but I wouldn't. I always go the extra mile for these. Broken arm or not, I'm getting this done." I said, subtly gritting my teeth.

Why does this frustrate me so much?

"Fine. What are you writing about anyway?" Fitz said, his shoulders slumped, knowing he couldn't convince me otherwise. He later stood up from his chair opposite of mine, and I watched him walk up to the other empty chair beside me.