Just Because (Completed)

Chapter 8: Keiran

8Keiran

I'd had a panic attack. Been a long time since I'd succumbed to one, but then, being both claustrophobic and trapped in a tiny corner of a tiny room, unable to see the sky or even move, I'd crumbled. I couldn't help it.

Cracking my eyes open revealed a sea of steel, rebar, and concrete, forcing me to have to close them again and take a few deep breaths until I no longer felt like the walls were closing in. When I opened them again, I was calmer, but still tried to focus on anything other than my situation. Like the soft warmth that was pillowed beneath my head.

Leaning up, I looked back to see Delilah curled up on the floor behind me. Her legs were wedged into the small crevice of concrete on my left side, her right arm folded beneath her head below the beam. She was laying on her side, my head rested against her stomach as I slept, and I let out a breath as I really studied her. She had medium-length hair, blonde, halfway between wheat and honey. Her skin was unblemished save for a purple bruise just above her left temple. I had never noticed it.

Her eyes were red, the lids and skin beneath them somewhat swollen, as though she'd been crying, bringing back to light the fact that I'd been an overwhelming asshole to her. She was sacrificing so much for me, right down to her pants, jacket, and shoes, leaving herself with hardly anything as she continued to care for me. And she cared for me because she cared about me, not because she was obligated to.

That was one thing I'd been too proud, or stupid, to see. With all of Delilah's affection, I had begun to take it as just another fan-crush-turned-obsessed. And—let's be real— Delilah definitely had a fan crush on me, but she hadn't been crazy about it. She'd said she'd loved me, then immediately told me that she knew it would mean nothing to me because of how many people said the same. She expected nothing from me, and had no hope of a future with me whatsoever. She had simply told me how she felt and proceeded to care for me and treat me with kindness.

And what had I done to thank her?

All but told her that her feelings were invalid and inappropriate and made her cry.

Seemed Janet was right about one thing: I was a complete dumbass.

Frowning, I angled myself as much as I could and brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. My fingers grazed her forehead as I did so. It was cool, a little clammy, leading me to realize how much the pallor of her skin had changed from the first day. She was pale, and there were shadows under her eyes. She looked... sick.

It was a startling realization that, no matter how much gum I tried to make her chew to keep her sugar up, it wasn't enough. Delilah was sick, and she depended on medication to manage that sickness. She said she was diabetic, which meant she probably took some form of insulin, and here we were without it on day... what? Three? Four? I didn't know anymore. How much longer could she go without it before it really hurt her? And what about when we ran out of gum, and I had absolutely nothing to offer her? Would she fall into a diabetic coma? That was a thing, right?

The reality of the situation made my heart start racing as I sat up all the way. I had to pee, and I needed water but pushed both needs to the back of my mind as I picked up the pack of gum from where it sat atop the beam beside the water bag. There were three and a half strips left, and I felt my anxiety kicking up as I turned the package over to the ingredients list. How much sugar was in that gum anyway? I frowned as I read over it. Not much.

Putting the gum back, I angled myself around to see Delilah and laid a hand against her cheek, my thumb skimming gently.

"Del? Can you hear me?"