Call It What You Want - An Aaron Ramsey Fanfiction

Chapter 35

Chapter 35

I readjusted the covers.

Trying to expose just the right amount of skin to get to the right temperature.

Too cold.

I rolled over.

Getting frustrated now.

I turned over again and accidently kicked Aaron.

I winced.

“Ow.” He muttered.

I rolled over to face him. “Sorry.”

“Can’t you sleep?” He asked. Eyes still shut.

“No.”

“Painkillers worn off?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

His eyes opened, “Does it hurt bad?”

“It’s alright.” A bit of a lie….

He frowned. “You don’t have to be brave.”

I snorted. “I’m not brave. I’m not going to shy away from the face that rupturing my spleen was themost painful thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“Really?”

“It’s weird. I can remember the pain being bad but I also kind of can’t remember. Like I can’t remember screaming when it happened but you said you heard it from downstairs. Just really hurt… worse than when I was in car crash… worse than when I broke my arm.”

“You broke your arm?”

“I fell out of tree when I was seven. Running away from home.” I smiled remembering.

“You ran away?”

I smiled. “Yeah. Mum wouldn’t let me go and see Grandad so I packed my bags and went to go by myself to live with him. Didn’t make it. Obviously.”

“What were you doing up a tree?”

“No idea!”

We both giggled.

“What you said about your Spanish au pair last night was interesting. You never talk about that.”

“I don’t really like remembering.”

“Why? Why was it so bad?”

“In England… I hated my Mum. And then in France. I hated my Dad and I hated school. Some of the au pairs were okay. And every once and a while one of Dad’s girlfriends would be okay. But most of the time they were bitches. And then they turned even bitchier when Dad chucked them. Or they found him cheating.”

“Wow. And he’s a thief too. Nice guy.”

“I know, right?”

“What about your mum though?”

I pulled a face. “I don’t know. She was just… highly strung. We were kind of short of money… She got worse when Grandad died and I hated her for that because I was hurting so much. But because I was hurting so much, I forgot she was too.”

“You were the kid though. She should have looked after you.”

“Other people did though… Grandad. The au pairs at Dad’s. It wasn’t like I was completely alone”

“It’s not the same.”

“This one…. called Sandrine. She was the Spanish one. I loved her. Everyday at 4 she would sit me down and we’d eat churros. Other days she’d keep me off school to cook and I loved it. I hated school in France. Completely pointless. The only thing I like was maths and I was better than the teacher.”