No Surrender | Eddie Munson

Chapter Forty: Andromeda

CHAPTER FORTY: ANDROMEDA

"DO YOU WANNA BE FRIENDS?" — LEANNA FIRESTONE

So we’ll be friends, and I’ll be okay
The world won’t end if you don’t love me, even if it feels that way
I’ll be quiet in my pining, I won’t tell you about the pain
I’ll be silent in the night when all I wanna do is tell you how perfect I thought you looked today

——————

The gentle touch of a hand on my cheek lures me from empty sleep. I flinch and turn away.

Footsteps shuffle. "Bethy?"

"Go away."

My eyes still haven't opened yet. I tighten my hold on my stuffed lion and bury my face into the pillow. Carefully turning me so that I can still breathe, the gentle touches trail up and down my arm. They finally move up to my cheek and tickle it until I am forced to bring a heavy hand up to slap it away.

A sigh. "Come on, you need to wake up."

I don't need to do anything anymore. Not that I have the energy to actually say it.

"One eye, yeah? Just open one eye for me. I won't ask for anything else, promise." The mattress dips a little and I feel a body rest beside mine, another light tickle on my cheek. It's more difficult than it should be but I manage to force my eyes open to see Eddie's face just inches away from mine. He kneels before the bed, chin and arms resting on it. He breaks into a grin — one that I quickly realise is full of genuine pride — and brushes some hair out of my eyes. "See? I knew you could do it. Both of them, too? You're doing great already." A moment passes. His expression softens even more. "Hey, you."

"Hey," I whisper. My throat feels dry and scratchy. Wincing, I try to force a cough.

He helps me to sit up and moves once more to clear my face of hair. A frown passes over his face as his hands linger in the tangles. "You feeling okay?" he asks, strangely solemn.

I just shrug.

"Your hair's different. It's lighter. Don't— Don't worry about it, though. Nothing concerning. Here."

It's clear he's covering his worry up but I don't say a word. He offers a glass of water and tips three pills into my hand. Once I've taken them, I start to lie back down but he is quick to stop me. "Hey," I groan, trying to push him off of me as he tries to help me up from the bed.

"Come on," he gently coaxes, "you can't stay in there forever. How about you take a shower while I cook us some breakfast? Wanna make the most of today."

I shake my head but can't be bothered to resist. We shuffle through to the bathroom and I follow the silent instruction of his darting eyes, sitting on the edge of the sink.

Hushed apologies follow each tug at my hair as it's teased out of its untidy knot. The hair tie clings stubbornly. I don't react. I just let my head tilt back a little to follow each pull.

I wait for his disgust when the tie finally comes loose and my hair deflates, falling lank around my sullen face, still slicked with grease. Nothing comes. Nothing at all. He doesn't even seem to be masking it. The sight doesn't make him think any less of me and disappointment sinks into my stomach like a rock in water. Somehow it makes it more difficult to hate myself when he won't join in. Like it makes me unreasonable. Or him deluded. Whatever he sees in that mirror must be different, I don't understand how else he can bear to look at me.

All the while, I watch myself in the mirror. My face is paler than it used to be and the bruises around my nose have faded completely. All I have is a slight crook in its shape. I realise with a pang of fear that my eyes are duller than they were before. What used to be like a summer sky is just blue. Plain blue. Almost grey but not quite.