Saving Angelo

Twenty-One Flynn's Subject Avoidings.

Chapter Twenty-One – Raven's POV.

Maybe, even if I hadn't met you, I'd still feel something, if I found out you'd died.

Flynn's POV

Something smells warm.

Not the hot, sticky, humid type of warm, but the nice warm. The homely warm. The type of warmness you feel when someone offers up the shoulder for you to cry on.

Not that I'm crying. Nope. You'll never catch Flynn Avery crying. Nope.

"Uh, excuse me?" a voice questions timidly, a voice from a source I could not decipher for my head's buried in Raven's shoulder. "A-are you Flynn Avery and Blaze Montenegro?"

My head whips up. A young nurse, possibly in her mid-twenties, stands before us, clutching a clipboard to her chest. Her face is sweet and almost doe-like, with porcelain features and a dainty little nose, her blonde hair tied into a perfect ponytail. The only thing that looked out of place where her eyes, chocolate-y brown, muddy eyes, with what seemed to be extremely smudged eyeliner which accented the bags that were already under her eyes. It seemed she'd tried to wash the liner away, but she hadn't done a very good job.

Before anyone can notice, I wipe the weird liquid that has somehow materialised underneath my eyes. No idea how that got there...

"Uh-" Raven starts, a little taken aback by her appearance. "Yes. That's us," she carries on, composing herself, trying to look away from the tears building up in the nurse's eyes.

"Right. Okay," the nurse gulps, looking like she'll probably hurl at any moment. "I'm Karen Wells, a Critical Care nurse here. I-"

"Wait a second – critical care?" I exclaim, not giving a flying rat's arse if everyone in the room is staring at us. Which they are. "What the hell does that mean?"

Nurse Wells stares at me uncomfortably. "I think it's best if we talk about this in my office. If you wouldn't mind," she gestures to the door, "follow me?"

She turns on her heel and scurries out of the door, looking over her shoulder as we stand up, extremely confused and in panic.

"I don't know about you," I whisper under my breath, as we cautiously follow the nurse down a brightly lit corridor, a few paces behind, "but don't you think this nurse is a little unprofessional?"

Raven, who hadn't spoken a word in the last two minutes, completely ignores me, staring off into space, watching Nurse Wells' ponytail bob up and down as she walks.

I carry on, pretending this wasn't a completely horrific situation. "I mean, you'd expect a nurse to be a little more professional when speaking to a visitor, would you not?" she continues to ignore me.

Maybe she just can't hear.

Just as I'm about to speak again, the nurse comes to halt in front of a windowless door, unlike the other rooms in the corridor, marked 'Nurse Karen Wells, Critical Care Unit', and holds it open for us.

"After you two," she smiles, trying to take the tension away from the situation. It fails.

As Raven and I sit stiffly in two comfy chairs in front of a small desk, I look around. It's quite a small room for an office: there's one potted plant in the corner: a shuttered window behind the desk, which is facing us, and a cluttered desk filled with papers and a single photo-frame, facing the other direction.

"So," the nurse coughs, settling into her chair behind the desk. "You are Mr Avery and Ms Montenegro, yes?"

I look over at my best friend. Her eyes are as sharp as ever, looking around the room and clenching and unclenching her fists in her lap. Her hair is swept to one side over one shoulder and I can't help but feel worried. For her, for Angelo. The stupid bastard has really ruined our lives, in the matter of a day.