He Came Through the Window

Part 10

[Huge thanks to EKShortstories for the character banner! Also, I just found this song by Maroon 5 called "Daylight", it's so perfect for this story! I wish I would have found it sooner.]

(Ayden's Perspective)

The whole room froze. Holland fixed his eyes on the muted television displaying evening news and bit down on his lower lip until a bit of blood coated the bottoms of his teeth. His fist was clenched around my hand so tightly that they both turned ashen, but I was too numb to feel anything. The sound of my heart pounding seemed to echo through the room as Kate put a hand to her mouth and stammered.

"I-I don't understand," she stammered, gripping the fingers of her free hand around the counter and reathing heavily. "She needs the treatment."

"Ma'am," the voice, probably Dr. Brown's, was barely audible on the other end, yet it was loud enough to work its way into my brain. "We...we can't do anything more. She's no longer responding."

"You don't know that!" Kate shrieked, slipping down on the linoleum and leaning her head on the bottom cabinet. Slowly, Holland took his hand from mine and stood over his mother, stroking her hair soothingly. HIs expression was that of stone, eyes dull for once. He took the phone from his mother as she pulled her knees to her chest and sobbed into her hands. Her cries were shrill and desperate, but I was so lost in the moment that it was difficult to respond.

Holland pressed a button on the phone and switched it to speaker. "Please," he pleaded into the phone, grabbing the back of his neck while blinking rapidly. "you can't just give up on her like that. She doesn't deserve that."

My legs wobbled like Jell-O, my feet numb as I slid across the floor and knelt beside Kate. She laid her head down on my shoulder as tears began to blur my vision.

"Holland," The doctor's voice was hoarse on the other end. "we have tried everything, it's not working. I know it's hard-"

"Hell yeah, of course it's hard!"

"But," Dr. Brown continued. "she needs to be home, she needs to eat real food and enjoy whatever time she has left-"

"You're giving up!" Holland shouted, expression filled with rage, eyes glowing with infuriation. His lower lip quivered as he held the phone away from him for a moment before slamming it into the receiver. "Goddammit!"

Kate's tears dampened the sleeve of my coat as she whimpered, and her body trembled in the ball she was in. I was frozen, eyes fixated on Holland's hard expression. He didn't look like the sweet boy I had fallen in love with, but he instead looked like a man far ahead of his years. He looked older, distressed, almost as if he was sick as well.

"I shouldn't have yelled," he said softly, his eyes apologetic and fearful. "I should go turn India's alarm off. She needs to sleep in." Without another word, he disappeared into the dimmed hallway, hands stuffed in his jean pockets.

~~~

Kate was too distressed to send me home, so she simply waved Holland and I away in the direction of his bedroom. "Just don't do anything," she mumbled before disappearing into her room. Shrugging, Holland sighed and led me down the hall. My father was under the impression that I was with Ingrid for the night, and the school was giving us a day off for professional development.

Holland shedded all the leather he had been wearing and stripped to a pair of maroon boxers. His perfectly sculpted figure seemed to glow in the incoming moonlight as he sprawled across the bed. He handed me one of his plain, white v-necks with a little wink. I could feel my cheeks burning as my clothes fell on the floor. The shirt swallowed my half-naked body, and the scent of faded cologne was still on it.

Holland cracked a crooked smile as I crawled under the covers with him. Inching toward me in the queen bed, he wrapped an arm around my body and pulled a navy comforter over us. "Well, this is a change of scenario," he chuckled, eyes fixated on the broken ceiling fan above us.

"Indeed," I agreed, laying my head against his bare chest. A sense of warmth ran through me as I did so. Even through the window glass we could hear speeding, yellow cars splashing through puddles left over from the afternoon's storm, and a mix of low, ambient voices and screams. The moonlight engulfed the still illuminated city, and even past nine PM, children were skipping down the streets with their parents to return home and stuff their cheeks with candy. India was fast asleep in her own bed, wrapped in a cocoon of quilts with a purple night light and a friendly gang of stuffed animals for the first time in months. Her bucket of candy was safely stored in the pantry, topped with a few stray wrappers from earlier in the night.

"Who's gonna tell those girls that their friend is dying?" Holland broke the silence, his voice soft as he stared at the ceiling. "Who's gonna tell her old teachers? And our family on the west coast?"  He bit down on his lower lip. "I feel like they'll have to find out on their own."

My heart sunk into my stomach, came back up, and almost lodged itself in my throat. Leaning my head back on Holland's lumpy pillow, I covered my eyes with my hands and tried to think of something to say. The silence may have lasted anywhere from thirty seconds to thirty minutes, every moment seeming to drag out.

"I'm sorry," I choked out finally, taking one of his hands in mine. His hands and fingertips were rough and calloused from twelve years of guitar, fifteen years of piano, and seven years of drums. There was tension in his hand as I squeezed it. Craning my neck, my lips planted a kiss on his cheek, and they lingered there against his stubble for a moment before I released them. A slight grin formed on his face as I did so, but the pain was still in his eyes.

"It's okay-"

"No," I cut him off. "it's not. I wish it didn't have to be like this, you all don't deserve this. I wish I could say I know how you feel, but-"

"You do," He interrupted, sitting up a bit in bed and releasing his hand from my grasp, clenching his palms into a combined his and resting his chin against it. "You remember your mom dying, right? You've been having nightmares since it happened, and I still remember you bawling at last year's school remembrance ceremony. I remember holding you while the principal talked. You do know how it feels, you don't have to be sorry for us."

The images of the attack flooded back into my brain, and I could see the smoke, the fire, the towers collapsing. I could see the tears welling in my father's eyes, and the closed casket at my mother's funeral with white orchids decorating it. They were her favorite flower. I could almost feel the callouses of my father's palms touching mine as the casket was lowered into the ground, but upon looking down, I noticed it was Holland's hand. A lump formed in my throat and the hair on the back of my neck seemed to stick up.

"I'm just glad she can spend her final days at home," Holland continued as I swallowed the lump in my throat.

I nodded as we both leaned back in bed. "Yeah. She deserves that much."

~~~

We spent the next hour lying awake in bed, snuggled up against each other under his big comforter. After a few long moments of silence, I peered up at Holland's still expression. His eyes were shut and his lips slightly parted, breathing steady and heartbeat against my head rhythmic. His arm was pulling me closer to him, and he flinched a bit as I breathed in his ear.

"I love you, Holland."

He groaned a bit and tightened his grasp on me, but said nothing. I kept my eyes fixated on his still expression for a few seconds before letting out a long sigh and closing my eyes. My body was halfway consumed by unconsciousness as Holland's breath brushed against my ear, causing me to jump a bit in the bed.

"I love you, too, Ayden."

~~~