Our love couldn't go wrong

Chapter Thirteen :

Tw for mentions of injury, vomit, and anxiety/panic attack

The first thing she's aware of when she starts to wake up is how quiet it is; peaceful, almost. It's foreign to her. She can't actually remember the last time she woke up on her own accord and not just because of an alarm going off, or Jason banging around the apartment as he gets ready for an early shift, or him snapping at her for trying to sleep in and calling her lazy.

The second thing she quickly becomes aware of is that she's not in her apartment, and it sends her into a sudden panic. That sleep-induced worry she usually gets when she has the day off work and her anxiety suddenly makes her think she's late in. It takes her a second to scan her surroundings, calming down when she realises where she is.

She's safe. She's at Shayne's.

Memories of the night before start to come back to her: the party, the hospital, Shayne bringing her back to his, telling him about the fight she'd had with Jason. She's exhausted even thinking about it all, and that exhaustion is only amplified by the dull pounding she feels everywhere.

Sleep hadn't come easy to her last night, in spite of how tired she was. Shayne had insisted she take his bed and by the time she'd finally gotten as comfortable as she could with her broken ribs, it had been time for her to take her meds, which meant she had to eat something. That then made her feel nauseous, and she'd spent the next ten minutes heaving into his toilet, vomiting up the dry toast he'd made her as well as the pills she'd just taken.
It was awful, but she must've finally drifted off at some point.

Painfully, she forces herself to sit up, left hand instantly lifting to her ribs for support. It doesn't do much and she finds herself breathing heavily through her nose to stop any noise escaping from her mouth, before she stands and makes her way to the kitchen. It's about time for her next meds, anyway.

She isn't surprised to hear Shayne is awake already; in fact, she'd be more surprised if you told her he actually slept last night. But it does confuse her to hear him talking to someone and her heart skips a beat, before she realises that he's on the phone.

Curiosity gets the better of her, lingering by the doorway for a moment as she listens in to his conversation.

"I know it isn't my business. You know I wouldn't be talking to you about it normally, but...he really did a number on her. She's scared. I don't know what to do and I know she doesn't, either, I just - you needed to know. She needs you, right now." He sighs, and her stomach drops as the words kick in. He's told someone.

She's not angry with him. That shocks her, slightly, but there's a part of her that can't blame him for needing to tell someone, and she can't be mad at him for something she didn't even say he couldn't do. But she is scared, for a moment, mind racing. She tries to figure out who he's just called, who he decided it would be important to tell.

If he's called her dad, she thinks she'll throw up (again).

"Yeah, yeah, she's at mine. Okay, got to go, Kari. We'll see you in a bit." He barely hangs up the phone before she steps into the kitchen, clearly startling him. "Court-"

He starts, but she's quick to cut him off, fuelled by a mixture of hurt and frustration, "You called my sister?"

"I had to, Courtney. I know it's not my place, but you also know I wouldn't have done it unless I had no other choice. He isolated you - Kari hasn't seen you in months, she's been worried sick - and you need your family right now. I'm sorry."

"You should be."

She hates the spite in her voice, hates the way she practically spits at him before she turns and rushes to his bathroom, locking the door after her. She hates the way she shakes as she sinks to the floor, not even caring about how hard it'll be to get up later. She hates the fact that she's angry at him when she wasn't even angry at him merely moments before.

She hates the fact he's right.

The sobs come before she can hold them back, feeling her anxiety spiral out of control with each passing second. She's slipping and she knows it, and the only person who can help her out is on the other side of the door she locked.

She hates how much she needs him - she's never needed anyone before.

The panic attack that follows is inevitable and Shayne's concern is easily drowned out by everything else around her. She's slipped.

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He knows he's messed up when she enters the room, red eyes filled with hurt and betrayal. He feels his face drop, immediately trying to explain himself but she cuts him off, clearly angry. He doesn't blame her.

She rushes off after his pathetic attempt to excuse his actions and despite the fact that he knows she needs space, he also knows what might happen if he tries to give her that. He follows her, but he's stopped when she locks herself in the bathroom.

God, he's fucked this on up.

He feels helpless as he listens to her sob from the other side of the door, wanting nothing more but to hold her, to comfort her. After years of being her friend, they've figured out what works best to help deal with her anxiety, and touch is a big must have. He knows how tight to hold her, the patterns she likes him to draw on the back of her hand or to rub into her back, the way the grumble of his chest as he speaks soothes her. But most of all, he knows how important it is that someone is there for her, especially after she spent her childhood suffering alone.

This is on him.

Not even sure if Courtney can still hear him, he keeps talking to her through the door. He keeps apologising, telling her it's okay for her to be mad. He reminds her that he is on the other side of the door if she needs him, and that if she needs him to go away, that's okay, too. And he asks her to unlock the door when she's ready.

It seems like hours before he hears her breathing level out, technique switching up to his post-panic attack one. Keeping his voice level, he reminds her that she's safe, she's at his house and she's in his bathroom - he's outside if she needs him and he won't go anywhere unless she asks him to.

After a couple minutes, he hears her shuffle around on the floor. The lock clicks and he waits impatiently for the sound of her moving again before he rushes in, going straight to her side.

"M'sorry," She mumbles, burying her face into his chest, "Not mad at you, not really, was just...hurt."

"I know," He soothes. She's still shaking slightly, and he's quick to rub her back in an attempt to calm her whilst also warming her up. "But it's okay if you are mad at me, I understand. I did something without asking you, you're allowed to be angry at me for that. I'm sorry, too."

They stay like that for a while, sitting quietly (with the occasional sniffle from Courtney breaking the silence) until the knock at his door echoes through his apartment.

"That's probably your sister. Do you want to come open the door with me, or do you want to stay here for a couple more minutes and come out when you're ready?" The choice is a big one, and he sees her debate it in her mind. He waits for her answer patiently.

"I'll come with you. Probably for the better, right?" She asks and he nods, knowing that Kari would definitely search his apartment for Courtney otherwise. Gently, he helps her up, watching her face for any discomfort.

Once she's standing and he's confident she won't fall over, he starts to walk towards his door, speeding up a little when a second, more aggressive knock sounds out.

"So impatient," Courtney mutters from behind him. He forces himself not to smirk as he answers the door.