#18 in TeenFic
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❝Don't,❞ he pleaded softly, offering her a tiny smile, ❝please don't make me a promise you will never be able to keep.❞ He released a quiet but deep breath, leaning forward even more, tilting his body towards her, until thei...
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| Chapter 36 |
| the L-word |
"Because as long as it's an almost, it means you still have something to give. As long as it's an almost, it means you're still capable of hope."
Bree's words resonated in Nick's head again, just like they had the previous night. And the night before that. And more nights before that.
Not just nights, but days too -- those words seemed to find a way past Nick's walls when he was least expecting it, just like the speaker herself had snuck her way in.
Nick wished the words weren't so true, though. Hope was a parasite -- one that perched on your heart and sucked all the joy out. All hope did was feed you fantasies and make believe realities that shattered you when they turned out to be nothing but wishful thinking.
He supposed he did have hope -- regarding so much in his life -- but this past week, ever since Bree's words seemed to echo louder in his head, Nick had begun wondering why he felt more defeat than hope whenever his thoughts lingered on his mother. On the woman he'd left behind.
Nick caught a movement from his peripheral vision, and turned to see Dale shifting yet again in his position on the floor, where his books were scattered on the coffee table, and his fingers kept clicking the pen in a distracted rhythm.
Shifting his eyes away, Nick glanced at the fairly new Black & Decker vacuum cleaner lying on the floor -- one that he'd completely pulled apart and disassembled once he'd found Eileen ready to throw it away.
He could make it function again, he was certain of it -- and on the off-chance that it didn't work...well, there was no harm in trying.
If only he could say the same about relationships.
"Dale," Nick said, dropping the heavy weight in his hands on the floor and hearing the echo of metal against tiles.
"Yeah?" Dale raised his brows, his usually bright eyes a little dim and slightly red. The guy needed sleep, that was for certain.
"Do you think she's dead?"
That really seemed to snap Dale out of his sleep deprived state, his hunched shoulders instantly squaring up and his eyes growing wide with alertness and alarm.
"Who--dead?" He sputtered. "What? Who?"
"My mother," Nick responded in a simple tone. "You think she's dead?"
Dale's jaw hung open at the question, appearing to truly not know if Nick was being rhetorical or expecting a response. Nick didn't blame the guy -- he himself didn't know.
"Nick, what--" Dale shook his head vehemently, as if shaking his senses back into himself. "Nick, don't be an idiot. Okay?" He frowned, hard. "You'd know if she was d...you know." Dale looked away uncomfortably.
