Lea
You know those times when you're rushing for something – either you're late for school, or a plane, or a meeting with a friend. And you're counting down the minutes, or even seconds, because you want to save each fraction of the time you have left to make yourself less late. You just want time to slow down a little bit to let your brain adjust to the rush, rather than drag behind.
Well, maybe it's just me, I don't know. But that's how I feel right now. I want time to slow down for a few moments, just so that I can collect my thoughts and emotions.
It's a massive blur. The way that River speeds through the motorway at a hundred miles-per-hour and no slower, the way he swerves into a service station to fill up the tank for more fuel to burn, and the way he does all of this with a blank, emotionless and zoned out face. His eyes are constantly distant – even when he's looking at the road ahead, I don't think he's paying attention to the journey.
I don't bother making conversation anymore, because he either doesn't reply or gives me a absentminded nod or grunt. I decide that it's best to just leave him alone with his mind.
However, I'd be lying if I said I'm not scared at how he's acting.
Actually, I'm fucking terrified.
After three hours on the motorway, we eventually pull up into our town of Colston. Thankfully, there isn't that much traffic, so we manage to get through the city centre in less than twenty minutes, and arrive at the hospital.
River parks his car in the furthest parking space away from the entrance, even though there are available spaces near it. I glance at the time on the dashboard before he turns off the engine; it's two thirty in the morning. When the lights in the car fade as the engine dies, River switches on the strong yellow car light above our heads, allowing me to see his face.
It's quite painful to watch him like this.
His eyes have sunken into his skull from the tiredness, evident by the grey clouds forming beneath them. His lips are chapped and dry, and glued together, unmoving and emotionless. His skin, even in this harsh yellow light, seems pale and blood-drained.
"Are you coming down?" He asks, quietly.
"If you want me to," I reply.
"They might not let you into the room." He tells me.
"I don't mind staying in the waiting area."
He nods slowly, chewing on the inside of his mouth. Although he's facing me, his eyes aren't meeting mine, but rather staring at what's outside the window behind me.
"Okay," he says. "Let's go."
The odd thing about this all is the way he tries to make it sound like he's okay when evidently he isn't. I don't know, it's the strain on his tongue, pulling on each word that sort of gives away the fact that he's holding in a scream or a cry.
Just let it out, River.
We both get out of the car, and as usual, he waits for me to round the bonnet before we pace across the parking lot and to the hospital entrance. He doesn't hold my hand; instead, he keeps his fists buried within his trouser pockets. His head bows to the ground. We don't bother going to the reception desk this time and head straight to the elevator.
Moments after River presses the 'up' button, the elevator doors open to reveal an empty shaft. I'm slightly surprised when he twists his fingers around mine and pulls me in with him. Unhooking his fingers from my grip, he pushes a button that makes the doors slide shut before anyone else can join us. Then, after pressing the button for the seventh floor, the elevator starts to carry us upwards.
He turns to face me. His eyes focus on mine. He holds my hand again and pulls me towards his chest, embracing me with both arms. Bending to rest his chin on my shoulder, he whispers gently into my ear.
"Thanks for being here," he says, his voice raspy.
"You don't need to thank me, River," I reply. I feel the elevator come to a halt.
He pulls away only slightly, enough to examine my eyes.
"Yeah," He says. "I do."
The way he speaks makes me shudder – his voice is shaking. I've never seen someone seem so fragile and scared.
The doors open, and the emotions within his eyes that were obvious for a split second fade, and the shielding mask is reinforced. We pace down a few corridors, and River keeps stopping a few nurses to ask where Emily is. This floor is different from the last time we came; there aren't many patients on this ward.
Finally, we get to a reception desk where one woman is currently speaking on the phone. We wait for her to finish before he asks, and she directs us through two more corridors, where on the left there is a waiting room. My eyes instantly land on Brenda, who sits beside Malcolm. Her head leans against his shoulder for comfort with her eyes closed in a slumber.
I then spot Conner, who sits opposite them. His elbows are resting on his knees, while his eyes stare at the dull white floor. He too wears a blank expression.
"River," Malcolm calls. A wave of concern overwhelms his eyes. He's careful not to wake Brenda.
"Where is she?" River asks, his eyes darting from his dad to Conner.
Conner glances up at us, clenching and unclenching his jaw.
"Asleep, in that room." Conner points tiredly towards the room opposite where he's sat. "My mum and dad are in there already though; only two people are allowed to go in at...a...time." Before he can finish, River leaves my side and heads to the door. Rapidly pushing down on the handle, he rushes in.
I watch as he enters the room hurriedly. I watch as he disappears behind the wall that is blocking my vision. I watch until the door slowly swings shut again, making the 'click' noise when it meets its lock. I watch until I realise that I'm just standing here.
"Take a seat," Conner offers, sitting up straight in the green-coloured cushioned chair and patting the seat next to him.
"Thanks," I breath, sitting myself down and folding my hands in my lap.
"How was Graceland?" He asks, attempting to make conversation, though I can tell by his sluggish voice that talking is the last thing he wants to do right now.
Maybe he wants to distract himself from what is happening.
"It was nice. I like it out there," I reply, a weak smile attempting to pull at my lips.
"Good, yeah, it's nice up there." He nods, ruffling his hair with his right hand.
"I'm glad you had a good time," Malcolm says; making me shift my eyes towards him, then to Brenda's slumped body. She's still sleeping.
"I did, thanks. River did too." I respond, again trying to force a smile onto my face.
Malcolm takes his eyes off of mine and glances to the floor. "Well thank God, the kid deserves it."
That line, that simple line which escapes Malcolm's lips, makes my heart twist in such an uncomfortable way. River deserves the absolute best, not all this. Sometimes we just have to accept when we're dealth the short straw.
"Yeah," I reply, nodding. "He really does."
My eyes return to the hospital door, waiting until he appears again.
***
I open my eyes, blinking several times to adjust them to the strong white lighting shining from above. Once they're as wide as I can get them for now, they focus on a familiar face before me - Brenda. She stares back at me with a look of concern, her hand placed on my arm that flops over the armrest of this chair.
"Darling? Lea, are you awake?" She asks, quietly.
I straighten in the chair, rubbing at my eyes with the hand that isn't now being held by Brenda. "Yeah, yeah, sorry. What time is it?" I glance around the waiting area, and it appears that it's only Brenda and me sitting here.
"It's four in the morning, sweetie. I think I should take you home now." She offers.
I frown. "Where's River?"
Brenda looks down at her hand on mine for a moment, before looking back up at me. "He's still in the room with Emily," she explains, nodding her head in the direction of the door behind her. "He won't be coming home tonight."
I want to go in there, just at least to say goodbye to him, or to kiss him goodnight. But I don't want to intrude.
"Okay," I say.
"Okay," she smiles. "Let's go then, honey."
For the rest of the trip home, Brenda and I don't talk much, apart from her attempt of making conversation about Graceland, but I think she took the hing that I wasn't in the mood for talking. Instead, I stare out the window at the dark streets beyond us – the streetlights whizzing around us makes the world seem so beautiful today.
It's not a beautiful day, though. Not for River, not for me, not for anyone who knows.
We get to the house, and after saying a quick farewell to Brenda, I climb up the stairs to the second landing. Dragging my legs across the hallway, I attempt to make my way to the guest room, eager to allow my droppy eyes their rest. However, my body halts to a sudden stop. Turning my head to the right, I spot River's bedroom door.
Unlike usual, the door is wide open. The white room beyond it is in my full view – the bed, the television station, the desk, the large window, and the balcony door. It's not as clean as it was the last time I stepped into it, either. There are scrunched up pieces of paper on the floor, CDs and DVDs scattered all over, clothes piling on the desk chair, and the bed is far from made.
Confused, I step towards the doorway to get a closer view. Bad idea, because when I step through the doorway, I close the door behind me and keep walking inward, unable to stop my legs. I reach the foot of the bed, too enticed by the smell of River to stop. He has quite a familiar scent – it's fresh and reminds me of spring. I inhale, closing my eyes for a moment.
Rounding the side of the bed, I kick off my shoes and climb onto the comfy mattress – it's too cozy and warm in this bed. Crossing my legs, I glance around the room for another examination of the walls, which are pretty blank apart from the occasional poster and a few pictures.
Pictures. Photography. River never told me whether he was into that, but I guess he is since he's got a professional camera perched on his desk, with piles of pictures that I nosily had a flick through the last time I was in here.
Leaning back against one of the white puffy pillows, I recall back to that one picture that stuck in my mind – River with his sister and friends. He looked so happy in that picture, happier than he is now.
Funny how when you like someone so much, all you want is for him or her to be happy. You'd give up your smile to see theirs.
***
All I know is that it's extremely bright right now. I squint my eyes, but that doesn't help against the sharp sunlight seeping through the window to my side. I stare straight into the mirror of River's ensuite bathroom with narrowed eyes – my hairs a mess, there are foggy bags under my eyes, and my skin looks paler than ever.
I didn't get much sleep last night, as expected. Although I managed to dose in and out of consciousness, all I thought about, even in my dreams, was River and Emily. I keep picturing River's emotionless face when he told me that Emily had woken up. The blankness that blanketed his emotions still manages to send a shiver down my spine.
I twist the cold-water tap, allowing the water to splash onto the white sink. After washing some of the cool liquid over my face to try and make myself more alert, I turn off the tap and dry my wet skin with the towel hung on the back of the bathroom door.
I slept in his bed last night. Maybe I shouldn't have, maybe that's creepy. But it was the closest way I could be near him without him being here. And I was out of it, my mind was all over the place when we came back from the hospital.
Never looking up from the ground, I exit out of the bathroom, walking back into the white bedroom. However, I catch something out of the corner of my eye – a figure, sat on the end of the bed. I look up fully, taking in the hunched body that belongs to River.
He has his elbows resting on his thighs with his hands intertwined together. He's facing downwards, towards the white rug beneath his shoes. His eyes rise to meet mine as I walk further towards him.
"Hey," I start, standing a few feet ahead of him.
"Hey." He replies.
His voice is tired. He has red, sore eyes. His cheeks have lost all colour of blood, leaving him paler than I am, which is saying something.
"Are you okay?"
That's a stupid question, Lea.
"No." He states, truthfully.
He squeezes his hands a little tighter together, making his knuckles turn a light shade of yellow.
"Do you want to be alone?" I ask, hesitantly.
What the hell is wrong with you Lea? Do you not know how to deal with these situations at all?
He stares at me for a moment too long, as if to study my eyes a little deeper, before finally shaking his head. Unknotting his fingers, he outstretches his hand and takes mine in his, thus drawing me closer to him. Giving into his pull, I step forward and close the space between us, shuffling into the space between his legs.
Letting go of my hand, he places both of his either side of my hips, in an attempt to bring my body even closer his torso. I brush my hands gently on his shoulders, hoping to (maybe, sort of, I don't know) relieve some of his stress (if that's even possible for me to do). My fingers glide across his collarbone, and to the sides of his neck.
He closes his eyes, and I cannot explain how crazy my heart is beating right now.
In a few swift moments, he softly tugs at my hips, lowering my upper body so that my face is right in front of his. Opening his eyes for only a short moment, he finds my lips with his, and presses against them until my heartbeat escalates to ecstasy.
Without me paying much attention to anything else but the way he kisses me, I find myself being picked up from my feet and placed on the bed, with my back against the duvet and my head nestled into the pillow. He manages to do all this in only a few seconds, without breaking the kiss.
I can feel the weight of his strong chest against mine as he presses his body down onto me, deepening the kiss. My eyes close, all I see is darkness, but there is nothing more beautiful than this feeling, right here, right now.
Too engrossed in the magnificence of the kiss, I'm more than disappointed when he pulls away from me. My eyes flutter open to see his brown ones looking straight back at me; they're full of pain.
For a good ten seconds, we stay like this, just staring at each other, our heavy breaths mingling.
"I'm a dickhead." He says, completely unexpected.
"What?" I shake my head.
"I'm a dickhead, and you agree, don't lie and say you don't." He says, his voice cracking.
"No, I don't agree. Not anymore."
"I am, I'm an idiot too."
"Don't say that, you're not."
"Don't try and defend me now; you hated me a few months ago." He replies, his voice changing to ice.
"I-I never hated you," I speak turhtfully, although confused as to why he's saying this.
"Well, you should think I'm a dickhead, and you're stupid if you don't hate me." He says sharply, before pushing himself off of me and spinning his body to sit on the edge of the bed.
"What are you talking about? Why are you being like this all of a sudden?" I sit upright, moving my body closer to his.
He shakes his head, clenching his jaw, his eyes burning the wall ahead of him with their glare. He stands up from the bed and runs a stiff hand through his hair, pulling at the hairs at the top of his head in angst.
"All of a sudden?" He says with a raised voice. "I've been like this for a long time, that's why you named me that stupid nickname, don't you remember Lea?" He yells, his flaming eyes now aimed at me.
He's just angry, let him be angry.
"River, I don't..." I stare at him like a lost puppy, unsure of what to say next.
"You don't what?" He urges impatiently, his chest rising and falling.
"I don't think of you like that anymore." I finish, looking away from his painfully violent eyes.
He shakes his head, disapprovingly. "Stupid girl." He mutters.
"River, please, just calm down River. Just...Just..." I don't know what to bloody say.
"Just what?" He shouts, making me shudder.
"You're hurt, and I understand that,"
"Do you?" He asks, eyes wide. "Do you really understand?"
No, no I don't.
"You don't understand a thing." He yells, and his voice cracks. He stares up at the ceiling, taking a few inhales and exhales, and I pray to God that they calm him down a little.
"You don't understand how you can have a sister that doesn't recognise who you are when you say hello to her. You don't understand how it feels to have a sister that you only found out about a few years ago, and have to lose her again because she doesn't fucking remember your name." He tells me, no longer shouting.
I prefer it when he shouts because there's some sort of emotion evident. Now, his voice is the terrifying blankness that I hate so much.
"You know why I'm a dickhead?" He asks the rhetorical question. "Because I want someone to be in my position, right now, to feel what I feel right now. I want to be selfish, and let someone else deal with what I'm dealing with." He says so coldly.
But it's okay. He's angry. It's okay. Oh God, what do I do?
It's quiet for a second. He looks me straight in the eyes, with a despaired look.
"It's fucking unfair, Lea."
A tear just slid down my face. A bloody tear just slid down my face. Pull yourself together just this once, Lea. Be strong for him, Lea.
His eyes begin to glisten as tears build up within them, but River is a lot stronger than me and managed to keep them from overspilling. I, on the other hand, send another uncontrollable tear down my other cheek. He steps closer to me, kneeling so his eyes are parallel with mine.
"I'm a dickhead." He repeats, his eyes locked with mine, and I wouldn't be able to look away even if I wanted to.
I wish he wouldn't say that about himself anymore.
Quickly wiping the tear trails from my cheeks, I shrug, my teeth clenched. "I don't care, be a dickhead, I don't mind."
"I'm selfish." He continues to list the flaws, and I wish he would stop.
"I don't care," I shake my head.
Because even if River is a dickhead, even if he is selfish, even if he is the evilest person I can ever know, the good things override the bad, so his flaws are insignificant to me.
"Why don't you care?"
"I...I just, I know you're not those things. So say that you are however many times you like, but they're not true."
He edges closer, his face only inches from mine. I want him to hug him, I want him to stop talking and just forget things for a short period of time. I want him to be happy again like how he was in Graceland.
"I am selfish though, Lea." He corrects me.
"Why?" I ask, fighting against another tear.
For God's sake stop crying.
"Because, although it sounds like the cheesiest crap you'll ever hear, you deserve someone way, way better than me. Yet I can't let you go." He says, the volume of his voice no louder than a whisper. "I know that I'm fucked."
He finishes, closing his eyes and allowing the build up of moisture in the corner of his eyes to finally drop onto his cheeks, and roll off to the bed sheets. "I'm fucked because I think I love you, Lea."
He states, before opening his eyes to look into mine.
***