Wrong Guy

35 | definite plot twist

Episode Thirty-Five:
DEFINITE PLOT TWIST

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F A W N ' S P O V :

My whole entire life, I've been told that nothing is really as bad as you make it seem. Your emotions, they told me, always force you to look at things in a way completely unsubjected to the will of reality. Your mind is more powerful than the matter around you will ever be, because it is your lens, your filter, it can tint everything in your world a whole new color.

But this time I fail to see how this is just me.

I don't know if there's a possiblity of this situation being any better in an untinted world because even if my lens is turning everything bright red, the image remains the same. I still heard the sound of bone shattering and saw the blood that spilled from his form.

I saw him brain dead in a hospital room. I talked to him in that room, I cried to him in that room, I panicked in that room, and all the while, he did nothing. He couldn't. Tell me, that I'm not seeing straight, tell me that this isn't reality because I fail to see your point of view in which physical events were nothing more than dreams. This is so much more than a bad dream.

So much more than a filter.

"Fawn,"

I refocus.

"Fawn, look at me," I feel his hand drift over mine, his skin sweeping over my fingers sending chills down my spine. When his hand settles over mine, I intake a breath and feel my lungs plummet inside of me as I struggle to reel up my next breath.

"I thought you were gone." I whisper, eyes not leaving my boot clad feet, the lace trim on the top of my white knee high socks rubbing against my sensitive skin like sandpaper. I gulp when he reaches up to move my head to face him. The rough pad of his thumb, brushing down the side of my jaw as he observes my crippling features and matted wet hair.

"I told you I wasn't going to leave you." He reminds me, and I can't stand the fact that even in this bright white, chemically sterilized room where the beeping of his own heart is the only sound he can hear - he's still holding up better than me. His hands are firm and strong, as they keep my face from falling, but I don't neglect to notice the way his toned biceps are shaking due to all the energy he's exerting into keeping his forearm raised.

His hand trails down from my jaw to my neck, to my arm, until he's pulled me down with his arm, and I'm laying down beside him on the hospital bed. His eyes are dark, pained, something I couldn't seem to notice from a distance. But I know that mine are no different, so I stare back at them, unaffected.

As if he can sense my concern he says, "I'm fine, quit looking at me like that."

I can't help help knowing that he's lying to me. That he is far from fine.
I cuddle up into his chest and exhale an exhausted cry when his arm wraps around me.

"Do you know how much I care about you?" I ask, voice muffled by his chest, "B-Because it's a hell of a lot."

He chuckles, and I look up to see him genuinely smiling down at me.

"What?" I ask, and he just shakes his head and pulls me closer to him.

"I care about you too, sweet."

"I'd hope s-so," I reply, "If you didn't I'd h-have your head."

"Would you?" he asks, a sarcastic grin spreading over his features.

I laugh into his chest, "Well, maybe a month ago."

"Why not now?" he asks curiously, sitting up slightly. I try not giggle at the way his hair is splayed in twenty different directions, crimped into weird angles after having been laid on for such a long period of time. He quickly runs a hand through the mess, which only causes me to watch his shoulders flex in doing so. Blushing, I bury my face in his chest again.

"Come on, you gotta tell me," He prods, and I look back up.

"I wouldn't now because now I care about you." I ponder the question further, "And, b-because w-we already came too close to you dying for me to a-attempt murder you. That'd be stupid."

"Good points," he whispers before rolling over me, casually.

"Elliott, you shouldn't be doing this," I whisper, staring up at him.

"That's the thing," he leans down until his forehead is resting atop mine, "I don't care."

His lips drop down to mine, and suddenly the lens is gone, and it's just me and him.

I worry that my heart is going to exhaust itself as it pounds against my chest, the chest that his body is pressed on top of. His kisses are soft and hypnotizing, convincing my mind to do things I'd never thought of doing had it not been for the way his hands run down the length of my spine. His head tilts up to peck my nose, before planting kisses in my rain-drenched hair.

When he pulls away and is too far away to reach, I lean up and rest my lips on his collar bone. He grabs me and rolls back onto his back. I relax on top of him and say nothing as his hands slide into the back pockets of my jeans. Instead, I close my eyes and realize that there's nowhere in the world I'd rather be, than here.

In the arms of what used to be my almost enemy.

Definite plot twist.

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QUESTIONS:
Overall thoughts on the chapter?

Thoughts on the kiss?

Thoughts on the convo?

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Hey guys! I've got a surprise! I will be posting EVERY SINGLE DAY, for at least a week! So, a lot of book for you guys! Hopefully you guys are excited, and also, can I just say thank you for all of the support? 32K reads? Crazy, so thanks a lot for all the encouragement and motivation to keep writing. Hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter.
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- tat <3