The Rise of Lydia Rowe ↠ Jasper Hale (ON HOLD)

[2.07] sick

"I'll talk to your teachers tomorrow, get your homework and stuff," Gwen offered. "Might even let you cheat off me, depending on how rough you look tomorrow." 

Lydia managed a tiny smile. "How sweet of you." 

Gwen returned Lydia's smile with a small one of her own. She squeezed Lydia's hand. "I need you to get better, Lydia," she murmured. "I don't know how long I'll survive at that school without my best friend." 

"I'll do my best," Lydia whispered. 

"That's all I ask." Gwen laid down next to Lydia, still holding her hand. "I love you, Lydia." 

"I love you, too, Gwen." 

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Before Lydia met the Cullens, she'd figured she would live a long, mostly uneventful life and eventually die of old age. When she met them, and everything happened with James, she thought she'd die at the tender age of seventeen. Then, after that was settled, she wondered if she would ever even die, or if one day, she would become a vampire like Jasper. 

It wasn't a conversation he liked to have, and she wasn't too keen on contemplating her own mortality either, so they only talked about it once or twice over the cruelly short duration of their relationship. At the time, while the idea of leaving her mothers and Gwen behind for a life of immortality was terrifying and made her heart ache, she thought that maybe it would be worth it to spend eternity with the boy she thought was her soulmate. 

And maybe she was right. Maybe he was her soulmate, and the universe just wasn't keen on letting them be together. 

When he left, along with the rest of the Cullens, Lydia decided that she would live a long and happy life—she'd fall in love, get married, maybe have a family or just adopt a few pets, whichever option appealed most to her in the future. She'd be happy, and eventually, after a lifetime spent with the people she loved most, she'd die peacefully in her sleep, or something equally pleasant. 

Never, though, did she imagine herself withering away in her bed, days after her eighteenth birthday, feeling completely helpless. 

Lydia's stomach twisted painfully, pulling her out of her thoughts and back to reality. Lydia grabbed the trashcan next to her bed just in time to puke into it, groaning in pain. 

The sight of red greeted her when she opened her eyes. 

Is that blood? 

"Mom!" Lydia called out, her voice cracking. "Mama!" 

Her mothers hurried into her room, their expressions similarly alarmed. "What's wrong?" Tracy asked, coming to sit down beside Lydia on the bed. 

"I think I just threw up blood," Lydia croaked. "That's—that's bad, right?" 

The look of fear on Tracy's face scared Lydia even more than she already was. Tracy looked up at her wife. "We should go back to the hospital." 

Johanna bit her lip slightly. "I don't know if that's a good idea." 

"She's throwing up blood, Johanna," Tracy said. "This is serious, she's—"

"They didn't find anything yesterday, how do we know they'll find anything if we go back?" Johanna asked. "The best thing we can do right now is let her rest comfortably at home—if it keeps getting worse, we'll—we'll go back to the ER, okay?" 

Tracy stared at her wife, shaking her head slightly. "Is that a good idea? Waiting? She threw up blood, that's dangerous. Something is seriously wrong." 

"Please, honey," Johanna murmured. "You have to trust me, okay? Trust me that I know what's best for Lydia. And right now, I don't think that's a hospital." 

Tracy hesitated. She looked back at Lydia. "Lydia, do you want to go to the ER?" 

Lydia looked between her mothers, before letting her tired gaze settle on Johanna. "You really think I shouldn't go to the hospital?" 

Johanna nodded softly. "Right now, I think it's best if you just rest here where you're comfortable." 

Lydia studied her mother for a second. "Okay," she murmured. "I'll stay here." 

"I'll stay with you tonight," Tracy said softly. "Just in case it gets worse in the middle of the night, okay?" 

Lydia nodded in agreement. 

Johanna left her wife and her daughter in Lydia's room, pulling her phone out as she went into the kitchen to get a bottle of water for Lydia. She reread the last text message she'd recieved for what felt like the hundredth time. 

I'm on my way. 

"Hurry," she murmured to herself.