I wake up with the sudden realization that I'm a complete idiot.
I wake up with regret clinging to me.
I wake up wishing I could take everything I did yesterday back.
I shouldn't have kissed him. I shouldn't have given him hope that I can get better. Because I can't. And neither can we. Owen should move on from me. He should fine someone else, someone who can love him with no complications.
I'm in his bed. He practically forced me to stay here. He's on the couch in the living room. Just where he insisted on staying. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be sleeping in his room. I shouldn't be giving him false hope about anything in the past, present, or future. I'm an idiot.
I jump out of his bed so quickly that my head starts aching. I cling to the wall, trying to regain my balance, but instead, I knock a picture frame off the wall and it falls to the ground, shattering at my feet.
I don't really feel it, but I can see the blood pooling from my feet where the glass cut me. I feel a little light headed seeing it.
Owen throws open the door, looking confused and nervous at the same time. His eyes find mine, then travel downwards until he notices the frame and my feet.
He rushes to my side, picks up the frame and the larger remaining pieces of glass on the ground. Then he lets out a shaky breath, seeing my feet. I am afraid to move.
"We have to clean your feet up," he says.
I stay silent, breathing in and out.
"Come on," he says, touching my arm gently.
"No," I tense under his touch. "I can do it."
I take a single step, but that makes it worse, so much worse, and my feet sting, and I wince. Owen doesn't waste a moment, picking me up in one swoop. He carries me to the bathroom just outside this doorway, then sets me on the counter. He pulls out supplies from under the sink.
"I can do it myself," I say quietly. "Really."
"No," he says. "I can handle it."
My feet are in the sink now, and the cold water turns pink as it washes my blood down the sink. His hands are slow and careful as he uses tweezers to grab the small pieces of glass stuck in my feet.
I can feel the pain immediately. I let out a sharp breath, and without realizing it, my hand clings to his forearm tightly. His gaze follows down as well as mine, and I let go too quickly.
"I'm sorry, Brinley," he says. "I know this is painful."
I don't say a word. I just watch him carefully as he continues in extreme care. Every once and a while, his eyes flicker up to mine. And I hate it. I hate how much I enjoy his eyes on me. I hate his beautiful eyes, trying to drag me in when I know I can't let them. He doesn't know what mistake he's making.
After he's finished, he turns on the water once more, then wraps my feet in a bandage material. His fingers are so gentle as he lets his hands rest against my legs. He looks up at me.
"Does that feel okay?"
I nod, once.
"What happened?" He asks me.
"I lost my balance," is my only explanation.
He sighs, standing up so he's level with my eyes now. He comes in closer to me, so slowly. His hand touches my cheek and I am petrified, and I need to tell him to stop. But the words are lost. And he leans in to fill the space, and all I know is that he's kissing me again. It only takes me a few seconds to come to my senses. I pull back, shaking my head. He takes my hand, looking confused.
"This," I say, taking a deep breath. "This can't happen."
"What is it, Brinley?" Owen asks to softly, and his voice hits me strongly. His confusion.
"I'll disappoint you," I tell him.
"You couldn't possibly," he says. "I thought we already talked about this?"
"You'll realize one day that you've made a mistake," I say. "That I'm not everything I used to be. Have you never heard that saying? A person is not made up of seconds or minutes, they're made up of memories and experiences? Yeah, well if that's true, I'm hardly half of the person you knew. You deserve so much more."
"I don't know how to read this to you any more clearly," he says. "I love you. You. Who you are right now. I don't know how to make you believe it. I don't know why you continue to question it. But it's true."
"You don't know what you're saying-"
"I do. I've never known anything more clearly in my life. I'm not holding onto false hope, I'm not clinging to the Brinley I had before the accident. All I want is you."
And I can see the truth of what he's saying in his eyes. His clear, dark eyes. I feel the intensity of every word in this glance. I'm caught and my breaths are quicker and I can feel his on my face. He's so close and I can practically hear his heart beating.
"I wouldn't trade you for anything," he says.
Then he picks me up into his arms again, carrying me back to his bed. He sets me on the edge. My feet feel numb and cold, like I'm on pins and needles. I easily slip under the covers again, laying my back against the wall and Owen follows my motions with his focused gaze.
"We don't have to go anywhere today," Owen says. "You probably shouldn't be walking for a few hours, or the cuts will open again."
I nod, slowly. He sits on the bed beside me, his shoulder touching mine. He takes my hand in his, intertwining our fingers.
"I don't want you to question us anymore. I don't want you to question yourself, or your feelings, or mine. Because this is okay. Us two, we are alright," Owen says.
And when I turn my head and see him looking at me the way he does, I believe him. I know he's telling me the truth. He loves me. I can almost feel the truth of it inside me.
"I know." Two simple words escaping me. Two simple words changing the way he looks at me. Two words that make my heart feel light. I do know.
And he leaves a kiss on my forehead. I rest my head on his shoulder. His arm drapes around me. And I'm so warm and cold and I feel like I believe him, every word he's ever said, that everything might just be okay.
<•>•<•>
"Owen. Are you in here?"
"Shut up, Joey, she's sleeping."
"Oh-oh... You two are okay, then?"
"We always have been. She is just under a lot of stress."
"She looks so cute sleeping like that."
"Can you get out?"
"No."
"Come on."
"It just like old times. You two were... Still are... The most perfect couple."
"I'm grateful for your opinion. Now leave, you're going to wake her up. She woke up pretty early this morning."
"How would you know?"
"Get out."
"Owen, what-"
"Really. You're so loud, I swear."
I hear voices, but they're all blurring together in my mind. I try to open my eyes, but they refuse. I take in deep breaths, trying to figure out where I am.
"Joey-"
"Hey, Brinley."
At the sound of my name, my eyes focus on the figures I see. Joey is in front of me, by the edge of the bed. I lift up my head to find that Owen is still beside me, as I remember he was before.
"You're adorable when you're sleeping," Joey says, grinning at me.
"I'm really glad you find invading my personal space and spying on me entertaining," I reply.
"This is my personal space, actually," Joey says.
"Actually," Owen says, "it's mine. And I would appreciate it if you would leave it alone."
"Alright, alright," he says, then he winks at me, turns around, and leaves.
"Sorry about that," Owen says.
I sit up now, stretching out my arms. "What time is it?"
"Ten," he replies, letting his head fall back against the wall.
"Oh."
I shift out of bed, standing up. My feet feel numb and refuse to hold that much pressure. I immediately sit myself back down, annoyed at myself for being so clumsy. Now I have to sit here doing nothing.
"Still hurting pretty badly?" Owen asks me, his hand resting on my shoulder.
"I guess," I nod. Then I sigh. "This sucks."
"Hey," he says, pulling me back beside him. "It doesn't have to suck."
His hand is at my cheek, fingers in my blonde hair, a slight smile on his face. He's not five inches away from me. And then his lips touch mine, so softly. And my hands are around him, and he's right. It doesn't suck. Maybe staying right here is best. Maybe I should stay right here forever.
"Your hair is so soft," he says, running his fingers through it. And then he's kissing me again, and his hands are so warm, and he must be wearing something because he smells so good. I feel slightly delirious in the best way possible.
And Joey walks back inside the room. I quickly part from Owen, taking a deep breath. Joey raises his eyebrows, mouth hanging open slightly.
"I forgot my jacket," he says. He picks it up, then walks back towards the door. Turns around. Winks. "Don't mind me." And he's gone, the door closed.
Moment in silence pass.
"Thank you," I say, taking Owen's hand in mine.
"For what?"
"For not giving up."