Grace
The water continues to spew out of the showerhead, but now, it was coming out cold. I stare ahead at the other side of the tub, my eyes not moving. Goosebumps litter my skin as a chill runs down my spine. Cold winter air came seeping in through the cracked window in the bathroom, and at some point earlier the whole room had been filled with mist.
My hair is plastered to the sides of my face, but the ends of the strands were beginning to dry. The ends of my hair start to curl, like they naturally do after a shower. Droplets of water hit my skin softly, but to me it felt like it was hailing.
There's emptiness inside of me; a hole in my heart where a certain somebody used to be. I had given up on crying, having run out of tears - if that was even possible. After all the death I've witness you think I'd be okay when hearing that kind of news. But no, I wasn't.
It took everything in me to not cry when I went to visit him. Every part of me wanted to break down, to fall down to my knees as they almost gave out on me, but I didn't. I stood, strong as I could be when I was looking down at him that hospital bed.
His skin had been so white, so ghost like. Grays bags hung under his eyes, his eyes just barely staying open long enough to let me say what I had to say. There wasn't anything I could do after his eyes had shut, as the doctor had told me he was in what could pass as a coma.
The possibility of him waking up was fifty-fifty thing. Based on if he had the strength, and if he didn't, then he would just go. That's what the doctor and nurses had told me. That he'd just ... go. Die was the right word, but of course that certain word was forbidden to ever be said.
I shut my eyes as the image of him laying there flashing before my eyes. Holding them closed tightly, my teeth begin to chatter. Bending my arms backward and reaching up, I grab onto the handle and turn it, and instantly the water becomes warmer.
And then, I go back to my own little world. I don't even bother to get out of the tub when the phone rings more than once, or when the old man below starts barking out random things - a basic sign of 'you're stealing all the hot water'. At this very moment I've decided to label him as insane as everything he did had no reason to be done.
But, it's not until there's a knock on the door do I feel a small rush of happiness. It disappears quickly though. Suddenly, the door opens after about thirty seconds of constant knocking, and in walks a distraught Will.
I'm slightly glad that I had decided to keep my under garments - not exactly knowing why I had - and the door on the shower slides open slowly. Looking up only the slightest I come face to face with him, and he lets out relieved sigh.
I get ready to hear about how I'm supposed to get out of the tub. How he'll tell him he's going to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder if I don't get out. What I least expected was to see him get undressed, taking everything off one at a time, every article of clothing falling to the floor except his boxers.
Pushing the door open a little more to make room for himself, he carefully steps over the edge of the tub. He looks down at me, concern written all over his face, but he doesn't say anything as holds out his hand. My eyebrows knit together in confusion, but I grab onto his hand, hesitant to do so.
Pulling me up, I almost slip, but he catches me. When I'm finally standing on my feet, my legs a bit sore from my previous position, I make eye contact with Will. Our eyes lock, and its dazzling gray and shinning Amber.
We continue to not say anything as he reaches over and grabs the bottle of body wash, flipping the lid and squeezing some onto his palm before setting it back down. He makes a circling motion with his hand, and I get it what he's trying to say and turn around. With my back facing him, I feel him brush my hair onto my shoulder, out of the way with his hand.
A half a second later I feel the coolness of the body wash as Will begins to rub onto my shoulders, down my back, and carefully under the backing of my bra. I roll my head back as his fingers softly dig into my shoulders, his big, strong hands squeezing my shoulders as he gives me a massage.
My hair falls back down onto my back, hanging just the slightest in the air. When he's done giving me a massage he reaches up and over, grabbing the showerhead off its hook and bringing it back with him.
Surprisingly, the water is still warm, and when he begins to wash the soap off of me, I glance downwards and see a bunch of bubbles run down the drain. Bringing my hands up to my neck, I run them up and down the sides of it as a calming mechanism.
After a couple of minutes have passed I feel him start to play with my hair, weaving his fingers through it, but when the scent of strawberries and vanilla fills the air I know that he's not just playing with my hair, but washing it. My eyes flutter close as he begins to wash the shampoo out, and I really didn't want to get any in my eyes.
I turn back around to face him when he's done, and ours locking once again when mine are open. He passes me a bottle of shampoo, but instead of using his own, he using mine. When I raise my brow up at him in curiosity, the silent question of why he wasn't his own, all he does is simply shrug in response.
A small smile tugs at my lips as kneels down onto his knees, his head coming up to the middle of my stomach. Flipping the lid to the bottle open, I squeeze some of it out on top of his unruly blonde mop of hair. Tossing the bottle back down to him, he places it on the corner of the tub, and I start to knead the shampoo in his hair.
Playing with his hair, twirling a couple of the longer strands around my fingers, I could feel his warm breath on my stomach. I try to ignore him as I wash the soap out shortly after, but he was making it rather difficult as he starts to run his fingers lightly up and down the sides of my torso.
I don't think he meant too, but he was tickling me. At the same time, though, I find it nice. It was comforting, and that was exactly what he was doing: comforting me.
Some things were still a mystery to me, about how he knew that was something was wrong or that I was upset. It went the other way around, too. We both knew when the other was feeling down. Since we're never truly apart from each other, and if we are its only for a couple of hours.
From the beginning of this whole thing, I had started studying him, curious to how his mind works. Like how kid wonders how a car works. Maybe, he's been doing the same thing.
He stands back up when the shampoo is all rinsed out, and like earlier, we come face to face. Raising his hands, he runs them through his hair once or twice and then shakes his head and the water his hair had been holding is now all over me.
I let out a loud squeal, shielding my face from him with my hands. He makes a grab at me, and just like that, I'm wrapped up in his arms. As soon as our chest collides he starts kissing me all over with sloppy kisses. His lips trail over my neck, my face, and one of my shoulders. At some point his teeth graze the bottom of my ear playfully.
As he's doing all of this, I try to push him away, but it doesn't work. Because Will's too strong and I'm just a weak little duckling.
"Will ...," I whine, and he stops and looks up at me with those beautiful gray eyes of his.
He doesn't look the least bit surprised that I had finally spoken, but that was probably his plan all along: to get me to speak.
"Are you okay?" He asks, looking me in the eye, all playfulness gone and in its place was seriousness.
I shrug, but the more I think about it the more terrible I begin to feel. There's a familiar sting behind my eyes, and it wasn't long before my vision starts to blur and tears are slipping down my cheeks. Will tries to press me into a hug, but I shake my head declining but fall into him anyway.
Lips trembling, I wrap my arms around him, my nails softly clawing at his back, hanging onto him like my life depended on it. There was so much I wanted to say, starting off with "I'm sorry". A loose cry escapes out of my mouth, and it's not pretty. Will pulls me close, planting a kiss to my forehead.
My sadness was on a whole different level because it was mixed with guilt. Because all my time that I should have tried talking to him was spent with Will - because I wanted nothing more to blame the innocent, selfless man before me. I wouldn't.
That's just not me. I couldn't put my mistakes, my faults, onto someone else. It wasn't Will's fault that Frederick was lying in a hospital bed, too tired, too weak to handle the chemotherapy. His wife was most likely stuck to his bedside; the woman too stubborn for her own good.
My mouth hangs open, my eyes fall close, and just as my legs begin to shake I start to recall the phone call that lead me here.
Chopping up pieces of stake, I sing along to the song that's playing on the radio. The sleeves to my sweater fall back down to my wrists and I stop what I'm doing, putting the knife down on the cutting board and wiping my hands.
I silently curse my sweater as I roll my sleeves back up for what seemed to be the millionth time today. 'Cause, there's absolutely no way in Heaven or Hell am I taking it off -unless I want to freeze my ass off.
Going back to cutting up the meat the phone rings and I let out a loud groan in annoyance. Reluctantly, I step away from the counter but not before I scoop the meat - cut into squares or not - and place it all into a plastic container. Putting everything I used into the fridge, I turn around, practically running to get to the phone.
Whoever was calling had called at least four times before I actually got to the phone. I make it at the last ring, grabbing the phone in my hand, breathing hard. Placing it up to my ear, all I hear for the first couple of seconds is someone wheezing - like there holding back tears?
"Hello?" I ask, and then the person on the other end goes quiet, stifling.
"Hello?" I repeat, but this time the person responds.
"Hello ... Grace, its Marge ... I have some bad news - actually its terrible news. You may want to take a seat." Marge, who's voice I recognize instantly, tells me through pauses. Listening to her, I take a seat on the arm of the couch.
"W-What is it?" I ask, already having a few guesses in mind. And they were all horrible ones - ones that I don't ever want to think about ever again.
"You may not know this ... but, Frederick had been sick lately, like cancer sick. With his history of smoking, he had developed a lung infection. This had all happened a couple months back, and they had just given him some medication. B-But even that hadn't helped, and a tumor had grown on his lung!" She screeches into the phone and I cringe at the agony in her voice.
"I'm going to lose him, Grace! And he doesn't want any more of the treatment. The only thing he does want is you, to see you ... and it could be the last time."
"Okay, I'll be right there. What hospital?"
"Grace!"
"Grace!"
"Grace!"
I snap out of my thoughts as Will shakes me back into reality. His eyes are wide and he's staring down at me in worry. Letting out a shaky breath, he raises his hands, putting both of them on either side of my head. He brushes my hair down and out of my face, tucking the strands behind my ears.
"Are you okay?" He asks again, and I bow my head, not knowing how to respond. But I didn't have too as more tears begin to fall down my cheeks, my vision hazy.
Will already knew the answer; already knew how what I'd say if I could talk. One long, caring look into my eyes and he saw every emotion, every word that couldn't be spoken. The difference from how I'd like to keep telling myself this is just an agreement to keep myself from breaking if he does say it needs to end is that it's not.
Not now. Things had gotten more serious between us. Because, here we were, with him holding me as I cried. And he could've just stayed outside and listen to me sob. But, instead, he practically broke down in the door and knew the instant he saw me in a state of nothingness, he just joined me rather then make me talk about it.
In all honesty, I didn't want to talk about. All I wanted to do was deny every single thing I had seen earlier this morning. What I needed was for someone to understand that I'll talk about when I want too.
And for some screwed up reason the only person who got that was the man who wasn't supposed to mean a goddamn thing to me. It should've been Kimberly, but no, my best friend out of all people didn't get it. Didn't get that that only thing I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and listen to sad music till my heart's content.
I decided to join William Reed on a messed up journey of pretending to be his girlfriend, for reasons I still don't understand. But as I lean my forehead down onto his bare chest, with my eyes shut, all I hear isn't the water running, or the yelling coming from the crazy man downstairs. It's not the loud, eerie groan that sounds because the water pipes are old and haven't a proper look at in what could have been years.
It's not any of the above.
What it is, what I hear, is Will's breathing. The sound of his heart beating at irregular beats inside of his chest and the only thing I could think of that could've caused that was me. It was in the way he held me, sheltering me from my sadness. It was me, and the way I clung onto him that like I was drowning, and he was the life preserver.
Out of all the people, out of all the ways this should've happened, Will was the only person who truly made me feel safe. The only person who could make me run out of breath and all he had done was look at me like I was the sun. What made him smile, caused a wide grin on his face, was me. It was all me.
And then there was him, and the things he did to me. He was the first to kissed me all those weeks ago, he was the first to make me feel like I had a life worth living, and the first man to look at me and not make feel like I was just some prize to be won. He was the first to admit his feelings; to tell me what we had wasn't just some stupid agreement.
Every time his lips met mine, it was sweet bliss, and I never wanted to stop. I never wanted to stop kissing him; never wanted to stop being his. Because, that's what I was. I was his. If he ever needed something, I'd go get it. If he ever needed someone to talk to then I'd listen. My only hope is that he'll be mine, in the long run.
'Cause that's what I hope this is; and that's it's not just some fling in disguise.
And, out of everything, out of all of this, it terrified me how much he did mean to me. I liked him, like really liked him. Even if he had been a complete jackass the first time we ever meant, he had been a wonderful jackass to me afterwards.
Opening my eyes, I look up at him, and pull back. Our eyes lock, but his are filled with curiosity. Stepping up on my tip toes, I lean forward, and in seconds my lips meet his. He's reluctant at first, most likely not wanting to take advantage of me in this state, but then he starts to move his lips. And then, all at once, were kissing.
Its sweet, filled with nothing but a tragic sadness. One of his hands fall down to my hip, where he gives it a little squeeze. With are chests pressed together I could feel him as he breathing became rough, and I knew he getting into it. He tugs me close, deepening the kiss and my hands run up his back and they end up in his hair.
But he pulls back and our lips disconnect. I step back, sudden pang of hurt hitting my heart. Biting my lips, I stare at him questionably. He sees this and peers down at his toes, looking guilty. All I do though is reach up and brush his cheek with my hand before carefully hoping out of the shower.
I'm hit with blast of cold air and I scurry around, looking for a towel under the sink, and once I find out I wrap it around myself. Opening the bathroom door I walk out of the bathroom, closing it with a soft slam and then making my way back to my bedroom.
When I'm inside, changed into something warm, I lay down in my bed, curled up in the blankets and my hair is tied up into a messy bun. I'm facing the wall, staring at it when the door to my room opens and I hear footsteps slap against the floor. After a couple of seconds the bed dips down on the one side and a strong arm wraps around me.
Hesitant at first, I finally give in and roll onto my other side, burying my face into Will's shirt. Tears start to fall instantly and he rubs a soothing hand on my lower back, trying to calm me down.
"It's going to be okay ... Shh ... Shh ... you're going to be okay, Grace." I hear him whisper into my ear over and over again until I'm falling asleep in his arms.
I'm so sorry for the late update. I really did try to get this up sooner, but I had to Wi-Fi. I'm moving into the new house I'll be staying at this weekend, and while I'm there I won't have a internet for about maybe a week. So, for now, bear with this update.
More shall be explained in chapters to come about what's going on with Frederick.
Thanks for reading!!! Remember to vote and comment if you enjoyed it!