An Angel Wears Hightops [A Sequel to The Devil Wears Girl Jeans]

An Angel Wears Hightops (Chapter 7)

“You don't know what happened between us?” I asked, my voice eerily calm. “You literally dated me and Brooklyn at the same time. You kicked my heart in the balls, and then you left. So, yeah. That's what happened.”

The room fell silent for a long time, Halden just looking guilty and a little pissed off, while Poe was still looking on in amusement. I was 400% sure that he fed off of other people being uncomfortable.

“Well then, I'm sorry, okay? What're the other rules?”

“Rule number two: Don't break shit that I need, and rule number three, tell me about shit that you borrow.” Poe grunted, and Halden flinched. I didn't really blame him, Poe was kind of terrifying at first. Hell, he was still terrifying, and I'd known him for months.

“Anything else I should know?” Halden asked, not even bothering to hide his annoyance, and Poe looked deep in thought for a second, before shrugging.

“Nothing I can think of. Anything to add, Mick?”

We all turned to look at Mickey, but he was silent, his eyes fixated on the book shelf on the far end of the room. To Halden, it probably just looked like he'd spaced out for a minute, but Poe and I knew better. We exchanged a look, and immediately we knew: Someone else was in the room with us, someone who only Mickey could see.

“Who is it?” I whispered, and Mickey jumped, as if not realizing I was in the room with him. After a long pause, he tore his gaze away from the bookshelf, and turned to look at me with a panicked look.

“H-hartley, I really think you should g-go check on Dallas.”

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“Dallas?” I whispered, shutting the door softly behind me, so that the nurses wouldn't notice I was here after visiting hours had ended. Dallas was lying on the hospital bed as usual, but this time he looked even worse than he had the last time I'd seen him. His entire body was swollen, his face extremely pale underneath the tangle of tubes exploding out of his body, and I bit back a cry of horror.

“Dallas, please wake up soon. I can't handle things without you. You're the only good thing I had left in my life.”

He said nothing, the room entirely silent except for the usual sounds of his laboured breathing and the beeps of the machines he was hooked up to. I reached out and grabbed his hand in mine, as if somehow I could transfer my life in to him, but it was impossible.

“I love you. So much. You're my best friend.”

At first, there was nothing, only the sounds of rain pattering against the window. But then, I heard it. A soft, raspy “hnnnng” sound coming from the back of Dallas's throat. I jumped out of my chair, my hands fluttering in his direction, although I had no idea what to do.

“Dallas!” I cried, settling for putting my hands on both of his cheeks and leaning in so that our foreheads were touching, just as the “hnnnng” sound grew slightly louder. I held my breath in anticipation, waiting for him to say something, or maybe even wake up, but he had stopped. He was just as silent as he had been everyday for the last six months. Whatever shred of consciousness had come back to Dallas a few seconds ago, was gone now.

It felt like someone had torn a hole in my stomach. Dallas had just responded to me for the first time since the accident, but then all at once, it had stopped. It just seemed so ridiculously unfair to dangle something as serious as my best friends life in front of me, only to snatch it away at the last second. It was like giving a homeless guy a dollar, but then beating him up and taking it back.

I leaned my forehead against the cold metal bar of his hospital bed, and let out a sob that wracked my entire body, before realizing that if Dallas had been conscious right now, he would've no doubt told me not to cry over him, and that I should go buy myself a cake or something instead of being sad. Sighing, I leaned back in the folding chair, taking in every ounce of his appearance instead. Someone had removed the little silver hoop that had always peeked out from under his mop of dark hair, but the tiny tattoo of a music note behind his ear still stayed there, a permanent reminder of what he lived for. His cheeks were pale and hollow, though they had used to be-

Dallas's eyes flew open suddenly, and he jerked wildly, causing me to let out what was possibly one of the girliest screams of my entire life. He seemed to be screaming too, a helpless wail escaping from his ruined vocal cords, raspy, and hoarse, and devastating.

Nurses and doctors flooded in to the room, pushing me to the side as Dallas continued to moan and writhe around on the bed, before they finally tied him down. He continued to thrash against the restraints and I moved towards him without even thinking, reaching for his hand.

“Dallas!” I shouted, but an elderly nurse grabbed me by the arm, and gave me a sad smile.

“I'm sorry, sweetie, but that boy is too far down the rabbit hole to hear a single damn thing you're saying.”