Color Blind

Chapter Thirty

AN: Jerry Cantrell, ladies and gentlemen, with 'Feel the Void'.

* * *

Cole was dead asleep, courtesy of a late movie, on Friday night. He was startled awake by Nancy throwing up down the hall.

"Nance?" he rasped. "Nance, are you okay?"

"Go back to bed."

Yeah, right. It was too late now and besides, she'd been sick a lot lately. He worried about her.

He pulled himself out of bed and shuffled down the hall. The yellow light looked very creepy against the white wall and he stopped before he touched it.

"Nance, do you need to see a doctor?"

"I'm fine, go back to bed."

Now she sounded pissed, but too bad. He wasn't blind and he wasn't stupid. Something was wrong with her. Nobody threw up this much without a reason.

"Nancy..."

The door slammed, cutting off all yellow light. Cole swore and sorely considered trying the doorknob, but he didn't. She didn't have an eating disorder or something, did she?

"Nancy, please!"

"Go back to bed, Cole! I'm fine!"

"You're not fine, you've been throwing up randomly for as long as I've known you! What's going on?"

She gagged and he reached for the knob. He had it halfway turned when it revolted against his hand and there was the sound of the lock being pressed. He rattled it a few times before knocking on the door.

"Dammit, Nancy, what the hell's going on?"

"Leave me alone!" she shouted back. "Mind your own fucking business!"

That was uncalled for. Fine. She could have it her way, then. If she was sick, he wasn't going to deal with her.

"Fine." he snapped. "See you tomorrow."

He'd been lying in bed for about five minutes when the shower switched on. He rolled his eyes and pulled the blankets up over his head. If she wanted to be sick, that was fine. She could go ahead and be sick, then. He didn't care, and that was final.

At least, that was what he told himself.

* * *

Nancy didn't feel up to dealing with Cole when she got out of the shower and she locked her door that night. She hadn't bothered locking it for the past week or so, but right now she wanted to be alone.

How hard was that to comprehend, anyway? God! A girl couldn't throw up in peace these days, apparently. Ugh. What the hell? She deserved a few minutes of privacy.

She punched her pillow a few times and rolled over to look at the window. The drapes weren't closed all the way and she could see the neon sign of a bar across the street. She wished they'd turn it off.

Cole annoyed her. There, she'd said it. She meant it too, at least right now. And to think that earlier today-or was it yesterday?-she'd entertained the idea of being in love.

Wait. No, she hadn't. Love was not allowed. Love invariably led to other things, and she didn't want to do other things.

Admit it, Nancy, you like him a lot more than you used to.

Fine. She did. But she didn't love him, and she certainly didn't want to go make up with him.

Oh, who was she kidding? She did. On both counts. She didn't move, though. She just laid there staring at the neon sign and hoping she hadn't screwed things up too badly.