Destined

Day Twenty-Nine

Godric says no to Hospice, pretty forcefully, and I know he means well but that doesn't mean I don't want to choke him for being so domineering all of the sudden. He also steals both my prescriptions, has a whispered conversation with my doctor (who looks positively cheeky afterwards), and cons my overprotective friends into letting him be the one to take me home. They all look pleased with themselves while I am hungry, in pain, nauseous, and cranky, and, therefore, I shoot them all a righteous glare and march out of the hospital ignoring Dr. Newcomb's instance that it's hospital policy to wheel me out. Bite me. 

Suddenly, Godric lifts me over his shoulder, calling back to the boys and my oh-so-merry oncologist that he's got me. I don't know what happened to the perpetually tense/guilty/depressed version of Godric, but after his sudden bout of genuine laughter last night (that left me questioning whether or not he'd ever actually laughed before in his life, really laughed anyway) he suddenly seems peaceful as opposed to just quiet and relaxed as opposed to taut and tensely alert. It's a nice change that I probably would have been more enthusiastic about had I not felt like the brunt of a giant joke. Regardless, I aim a well placed kick towards where I assume Godric's crotch is, but he runs to the car and drops me into the passenger's seat before my foot even falls. 

I exhale in a puff and glare at the ancient teen who just radiates satisfaction...asshole. "You didn't have to do that, Godric," he shrugs and weaves into the Dallas traffic, navigating it with disconcerting ease, the speedometer not dropping below 70 mph. I glare at him, "Hey, Edward Cullen, can we slow down so I don't die a pancake, please? Thank you." 

Godric grimaces but slows down, "That...book was horribly inaccurate." 

Inadvertently, a giggle escapes me as he says the word 'book' like it's no sort of book he'd ever consider to be viable, but I give him a cheeky grin, "What? You don't sparkle in the sun?" 

Godric rolls his eyes, "If a flaming inferno qualifies as 'sparkling' than I suppose so." 

I shrug, "It's okay; I think you have a sparkling personality." I say this lightly, and he tilts his head to the side, glancing at me in amusement, though I mean it absolutely. He keeps his emotions wrapped up so tightly within him, that it makes him almost eerily inhuman sometimes. But, he's amazing in the sense that the more and more I get to know him and learn how to see past that rock hard shell, the more amazing I see he really is. Plus, the longer I'm around him, the easier his emotions are to read through small facial ticks and the look in his eyes. 

We get to my apartment, and he helps me out despite my protestations and helps me into the buildings and up the four flights of stairs to my third floor walk-up. He immediately wanders into my kitchen while I retreat to my room where Anubis-always a bucket of love-greets me warmly, sticking close by my heels and purring loudly as I change into a pair of fleece cupcake pajama shorts and a holey, oversized sweater. I lift the black cat into my arms before walking out and collapsing onto my couch, flipping on the television. It's so normal that I have to smile. It's good to be home...where I don't have to smell antiseptic and hear beeping all night long.  

Godric returns a few minutes later from the kitchen with a bottle of water that he puts in front of me with Mufasa following behind him, crying for attention. She spots Anubis and me cuddling and jumps up to join us, meowing loudly until I finally pet her. As I flip stations, I notice Godric wandering the room, pausing when he finds my photo album thrown haphazardly onto a dresser; I groan as he moves to sit down beside me with that thing still in his hands. He cracks it open and begins to flip through it, completely engrossed in the photographic account of my childhood, and I roll my eyes at his interest, fighting a smile before turning my attention to the screen, pausing when I see a vampire shouting on national television about vampire superiority before it cuts to Nan Flanagan trying to do damage control about how Russell Edgington is a 'radical' who 'doesn't represent the whole of the vampire race, just a small percentage'. I scoff and shake my head, "Nan, you're full of shit," I say to the television. She can try to pretend vampires are 'just like humans' all she wants to, but they aren't. They've spent years and years hunting humans and living in secret. It can't be as easy as she tries to make it out to be to change that much. When Russell comes back on, I shake my head, "And he's just a bucket full of batshit crazy."