The Unexplainable You.

Part Four. Portland.

Hospitals can do that to you I guess.

"excuse me?" I ask as the two nurses come out of his room after what feels like forever. "Is this Asher Lauriers room?"

One of the nurses, (I'm gonna call her librarian because she looks like, well, you know ) gives me a small smile, looking at the other nurse next to her. She's tall and lanky (Nurse beanpole) and looks like she's just so done with all of our nonexistent crap.

"Yes, this is his room," She tells me. "Are you family?"

I shrug, gesturing to the IV pole I'm dragging  around. "Not quite. We met a while ago, I just wanted to say hi."

Librarian nods, but Beanpole looks a bit hesitant. 

"He's not in the best mood right now," She says, ringing her hands around the hem of her jacket.

"Oh, come on Jennifer, it's just a little bit of interaction, might be good for him."

She glares at Librarian, but only nods. "Just a few minutes."

And then I'm alone, well, as alone as I can be in a hospital ward bustling with people. 

I give the door a light knock, as not to startle him before I walk in. I say that like a random stranger walking in to his room isn't scary enough, but that's irrelevant.

"Asher?" I say, stepping into the room. He looks thin in the bed, his bones poking against his skin, like fabric pulled too tight.

"I'm-"

"Portland." he interrupts, his eyes holding my gaze. "Yeah, I know who you are."

I bite my lip, shifting on my feet. "Can I come in?"

"I thought you already were."

I brush off the ignorant comment, taking a few steps into the room. His room is far more decorated then mine is, but then again, 99% of time that I've been here I've been asleep, so you know.

Posters hang on his walls, bands and sports mostly, but also pictures of him playing soccer and standing on stages as a child. A guitar sits on the floor next to his bed, dust collecting around the neck. His bed is a mess, but that's okay, mine is too.

"Do you play?" I ask, gesturing towards the guitar.

 He doesn't look at me when he answers "Not anymore."

"Why?" I press, taking a step towards it, running my fingers over the smooth wood. It looks loved, even though it obviously hasn't been touched. stickers are placed gingerly around the top, the designs scratched in small places, showing how much he takes it around.

"I can't." He says, holding up his hands. Metal bands wrap around his fingers like rings from the base all the way to the tip.

"If I don't have these," He explains, "My finger joints are gonna pop out of place, and I can't really move my fingers the way needed to play.

I open my mouth in an 'O' shape, furrowing my brow. "I'm sorry."

He just scoffs in reply. "I've heard that way too much in my life."

I nod, moving my eyes to my feet. 

Dang it! I forgot shoes! That's why my feet are so cold.

I pluck a few strings, leading into one of the songs I've been working on. I hum the words quietly to myself as I let myself get lost in the melody. Music is the only place where I can go to calm the voice in my head, the one that always seems to make me believe the worst. I could play my guitar until my fingers bled, and as long as there was music in my ears, the demon of my mind wouldn't dare to even come close.

I let the chord resonate after I finish, fading out until the room is silent once more. I look up, locking eyes with Asher.

He doesn't say anything, just bites his lip, giving me a slight nod.

"I, uh." I stutter, standing up. "I probably have to get going, my brothers are probably looking for me."

He gives me a nod, staring at the sheets on his bed.

I turn to walk out, moving slowly. The truth is, I don't want to be alone again, but I'm getting the sense that I'm invading on him.

"Portland?" His voice is shaky as my hands as I turn to face him.

"Can I see you tomorrow?"

I pretend to ponder this question, but I know the answer as soon as the words come out of his mouth.

"I think I can make that work."