See You Around~ Grester (completed)

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Grace's POV

My fingers traced the back of his hand and stopped when I felt his wrist tighten.

His eyes eased open at my touch. I was taken aback by how dull they were, his eyes always kept my happy, hopeful. They held this sparkle that reminded me of the sun, how they shone when everything was dark but I could no longer see that. Where had the shine gone? Where had the hope gone?

"Chester?" I said, my voice suddenly sounding so small.

"Yeah." He mumbled, and I crouched down beside him. His eyes darted around the room, as if adjusting to his surroundings. He stopped at me, his face softening and then suddenly his eyes grew hide as he looked down at my growing bump.

"Is the baby okay?" He asked, his voice full of concern and a slight hint of anger.

"Yes, don't worry, everything is okay." I saw, pulling out the scan in my hand and placing it in Chester's bruised one.

"Is this?"

"Yeah. It is." His eyes got a little more colour and for a little while everything didn't seem so dark.

He held it close to his chest, drawing all life from it.

"I'm sorry, about all of this. I didn't ever want to hurt you." He placed the scan on the side and took my hand in his, his warmth escalating throughout me.

I wanted to reply, I wanted to say something but I couldn't. No words seemed to justify my feelings and I didn't know what to say. So I just stared back at Chester's big brown eyes and felt guilt condemn me.

"I could've seriously injured our baby and I don't know if I could live with myself if I did that." He titled his head down, like a young boy who knows he is in trouble and rested his hands by his sides, brushing his legs.

"But you didn't." It came out harsher than I wanted it to, and I saw his face fall a little lower.

"There's only so many times I can apologise Grace." He seemed to be getting angry and I hated him having to repress it because he was confined to a hospital bed. I hated him being here, not being able to come with me to see if my baby was still breathing. I much preferred the roles reversed.

"I know. I'm sorry too." This time my voice came out a little more empathetic and Chester seemed to appreciate that. I sat on the edge of the his bed, our hands intertwined.

"I feel weird." I began, my voice trailing my thoughts.

"Weird?" He asked, suddenly sitting up, his face concerned.

"Not like that. Like I'm numb; with emotion. I'm not sad but I'm not happy, my mind is spinning but no thoughts are coming. Like almost depression, but temporary and not as severe." I didn't know where my mind was taking me but I carried on and Chester quietly listened.

"Depression is such a cruel punishment, there aren't any rashes or fevers, no statistics to send people running, just the erosion of myself. Like cancer, it is essentially a solitary experience; a room in hell with only your name on the door." It hurt to talk about my cancer again and I don't know why I was bringing it all up for I had promised myself I would keep it a nightmare and never bring to reality again. But something inside of me was forcing every fear out, every secret and every trepidation.

And I wondered if it was because of what I was fearing for the near future, because of what I had overheard and what I didn't want to become a reality.

"Grace?" He asked.

"Yes." My heart was beating, for this was a question which would break me.

"Why can't I feel my legs?"