Chapter 15- It's Not Me

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How are you all today? :)


Thursday Morning

I've been trying to tell Chris all morning that I'm fine.

The doctors said so themselves... kind of.

"You're just exhausted," they explained, in their boring monotone voices. "You're severely underweight and undergoing extreme stress and anxiety."

Which is why Chris has been trying to spoon feed me mashed broccoli all morning, like I am some sort of freakishly large baby, incapable of doing it himself.

I have to admit, however, that I am rather enjoying being the centre of his undivided attention. He didn't leave our room all night, playing nurse maid to my sickly self. Taika sent up our food, like we were invalidated rich folk.

It was magnificent!

"Are you sleepy, Tommy?" Chris questions after a while.

It's 8:24 am and we're both sprawled on the fluffy grey carpet with our hands behind our heads. I turn my face to look at him, inhaling sharply at the masculine beauty I find myself so close to. He's gazing at me with his eyes drooping with fatigue.

A pang of guilt shoots through my chest.

"I'm not, no," I smile at him, spinning my lanky body around to fold into his arms. They wrap around me reflexively; I am cocooned in my personal safety bubble. "But if you are, by all means, Chris, sleep. I've kept you awake all night."

"What can I say? You worry me, Tom."

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine!"

"You're clearly not!"

"We're not talking about this again, Chris."

"We're going to have to. You're not taking this seriously enough,"

"That's because it's not serious!"

"Yes, it is. You not looking after yourself, becoming severely underweight and throwing up your guts on the roadside is incredibly fucking serious, Tom!"

"Stop it-,"

"No! Why is it so hard for you to see? You're destroying yourself, babe. Things aren't going to improve if you're constantly brushing your issues aside!"

"So, you're saying have issues?"

"Frankly, yes. I don't want to argue with you, Tom, but this is hurting me too."

I gulp and internally decide that he is very right, despite my constant arguing. I am self destructive. I'm impulsive and reckless and give no care to my health or well being.

But it's not just that, is it? My actions damage my friends too.

I untangle myself from him and sit upright, ignoring the way my stomach flips.

I've eaten more in the past 12 hours than I have in my entire life and, honestly, I feel terrible.

"You're right, Chris. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just promise me you'll try."

"I will. For you, I will."

He beams at me and a tear slips from my cheek.

This man.

This man right here is why I simply adore my life.

It's hardly been a week, and yet, I know I am stupidly and dramatically in love with the big nerd.

Speaking of a week...

I explain that I want him to come with me to my sister's house. He hardly knows anything about my personal life at all, so he agrees with no hesitation.

"It will be fun!" he exclaims, scrunching his nose adorably. "I can't wait to meet Jack and Sammy. I feel like I know them already."

"That's because I always talk about them," I grin, wiping my eyes as I stumble to my feet.

Padding across the carpet, and trying very hard to ignore Chris's lustrous gaze, I turn up the volume of the radio in the bathroom and smile at the song playing. "The Fray," I muse, scuffing my toes against the soft wooden countertop.

I feel Chris approaching more than I see him.

He wraps his arms around my waist and moves our bodies to the soft rhythm.

"We can milk this week," Chris sighs into my collar bone and my neck erupts with gooseflesh. "You can stay with me tomorrow, and we'll have the best weekend." I frown when I sense a but approaching. "But... things will have to change on Monday. I'll have to go back to work, you need to go back to school and we'll be staring rehearsals-,"

"Shit, yeah." I groan. Being with Chris makes me forget about life in general.

I am about to turn around and kiss him when a loud, obnoxious shrill interrupts us.

I flinch and Chris growls, pulling away from me to investigate.

It's his phone.

He answers it immediately when we see the caller ID and puts it on speakerphone.

"Hey Hemsworth," Robert's digital voice greets cheerfully. He doesn't seem at all angry at us for ditching him last night, quite the opposite actually. "I'm near the elevators on the ground floor. Is Hiddles there with you?"

"Sup, Downey?" Chris replies, fishing two Cherry Ripes from their packaging and handing one to me. My heart flutters and I feel all flustered. "Yeah, Tommy's right here, you're on speaker."

"Great!" there is a disruption on the other end of the line which sounds like a scuffle. "Oh-shoot! Hey! Watch it!"

"You okay there, Rob?" Chris asks immediately, muscles tensing with anticipation. He is always so damn protective.

"I'm fantastic, Chris," he grunts and there's a loud wail on the other line. I gasp and we automatically scramble to the door, both of us ready to intervene. "There's somebody I want you to meet."

I pause with my hand on the doorknob as the pieces begin to come together.

His happiness, the lack of cursing, the high pitched crying.

Robert must be with his son...

"Papa," a sad voice sniffles and my eyebrows shoot into my hairline. "I wanna see my Uncles."

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