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vanchlo · 4 years

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The Assistant / Chapter Forty-Three, “The One Where It Happens”

*Gifs not mine*

Clickable Links:

- *NEW* Becky Magazine Cover from an O.C. Tag Challenge

- Masterlist feat. all chapters and Character Surveys

- Inspo tag

- Hecky Playlist

- Read on Wattpad

Word Count: 12.3k words

Warnings: Sensitive topics

Music Inspo: Lay Down Beside You by Carl Storm (click to listen, this song is too perfect for this chapter)

SNEAKYYYYY PEEK

I worry. I fear. I cry. I doubt. I struggle for breath. I grieve. I sob. I ache. Because I love. No, not loved. I love.

Love is what makes me want to go back to her, and cover her broken body with kisses. Love is what scares the living shit out of me, preventing me from doing that in this very second, because I’m afraid that I’ll break her all the more. Love is what sends the words tumbling off of my aching lips.

“‘m alright if yer alright, Becks . . . B-But ‘m not alright.”

Life has many ways of testing a person’s will - either by having nothing happen at all, or by having everything happen at once.

- Paulo Coelho

Today had seemed like a dream, and I was unsure of when I’d get used to that, or when I’d get used to all of this. If I never did, I’d be okay with that, because she just keeps amazing me with every step I take. I never want this dream to end, if it is one after all.

Speak of an angel, and there she is, I think. The thought races to the front of my mind, pushing all of the others aside. She’s always managed to be very good at doing that, I recall.

“I’m gonna get going then,” she announces, clasping her milky

white hands together in front of her after walking back into my office.

A sad smile finds its way to my lips as I admire her, wishing I could spend the rest of my days memorizing every detail of her. The little tan birthmark beneath her eye that she doesn’t cover up anymore, much to my happy findings. The sparkle in her eyes, the left one scattered with more indigo flecks. The always waves in her dark chocolate hair. Her braided silver ring that I’ve never seen her without, always playing with it mindlessly.

“Harry?” she hums. I blink, focusing my eyes back on her.

Becks. My lovely Becks. Maybe even . . my girlfriend? Impossible although it had seemed, my lips reach higher elevations on my cheeks at the thought. I don’t let it run away from me, although I’m itching to let the question leave my lips.

There’s always tomorrow for that, I decide silently as I adore the invisible inquisition toying with her eyebrows.

“Alright?” Becks asks, taking another step forward until she arrives at my desk.

“Ya, ‘m great,” I confess softly, pushing at the lip of my desk to get to my feet.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she ponders nervously, a fire sparking in her cheeks as I near her figure dressed in a sleek black pantsuit. A cream chiffon blouse falls under the hollow of her neck modestly, adorned by the opal necklace I haven’t seen her take off since our first date. Yet another confirmation that that night was real, and so is all of this. My bloody God, I wonder when I’ll ever be able to believe it.

“I dunno,” I giggle, my hands finding their way into the conversation with a shrug of their own. “Jus’ so happy lookin’ at you . . You make me happy, Becks . . Very.”

The dimple finds its place in her left cheek again, and I know then that I’m fucked all the more. A similar sound flows from her lips, and I wish it didn’t have to come to an end as my palm slips into hers.

“You make me happy too, Harry, so happy,” she titters, peeking up at me with those goddamn blue eyes. The very blues that could send me whizzing off into another oblivion, and I’d feel honored for it. I’m given just enough time to catch the glint in her eye, wetness sitting there in the corner before she looks away again. “Today made me so happy.”

“Me too, bug. I can hardly believe I get t’ do this e’ry day . . with you,” I snicker happily, tugging on her hand until my arms are surrounding her shoulders.

“Neither can I,” she concurs, the words tickling the skin peeking out from my hardly buttoned shirt. A second of wetness tickles the skin there when my hand comes to cup the back of her head, pressing a kiss below my thumb a moment later.

“Call me when ya get home, will you? We should FaceTime and watch anotha episode, if yer not gettin’ too sick o’ me yet.”

“Never,” she sighs, nudging my chin towards the sky when she lifts her head. It falls now, to find her moist blue eyes searching for me. It plummets further until my lips catch the hint of a tear at the corner of her eye, kissing it away. “I could never get sick of you.”

“‘s gonna be quite a long time befo’ I get sick o’ you, bug,” I murmur against her cheek, the traces of orange blossoms marking her skin. I can almost taste it on my lips when I leave a kiss there.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, yanking my eyes to her grinning lips that I envelop with my own. A ‘good’ brushes against her pair between moments of adoring her top lip between mine. The tip of her nose leaves lazy circles drawn on my skin while I sketch my own onto her creamy skin. The moment couldn’t last long enough. I wish I could freeze it in time and enjoy it for longer before my lungs begin to burn for air.

“Drive safe,” I whisper against her mouth, saying goodbyes into her hair with the motions of my thumb.

“I will, don’t worry. I’ll call you when I get home, it shouldn’t take me even fifteen minutes to get there.”

“‘Kay, ‘ll talk t’ you soon then,” I smile, touching my lips to her button nose. “Boops.”

“Now, don’t stay here too long, boss. You’re going to turn into a workaholic or something, Harry,” Becks taunts with her flushed lips drawing me in.

“‘ll try not t’, that’s all I can promise.”

A laugh joins her answering nod before she surprises me with one last kiss, making me want to take back all of the words I just said, and spend a few more moments kissing her. Minutes, maybe.

“Night, Harry.”

“G’night, Becks. ‘ll talk t’ ya later . . my love,” I divulge, enjoying the pink that rises in her cheeks at the mention of the simple words. Simple, yet oh so true.

“Bye, my Harry,” she echoes, squeezing my hand one last time on her way out the door. Her azul blue eyes meet mine over her shoulder when she pulls my door closed, decadent lips curled into a smile just for me. Lips that I already want to have touching my own again, dark chocolate waves I want to be losing my hands in, and that laugh I want to be pulling from her lips.

It’s never long enough with her, but I get to do today all over again with her tomorrow. The day after that, and after that. Stolen kisses in the copier room, her head on my shoulder while watching FRIENDS at my desk, those pretty fingers dancing along my tense shoulders, and a closeness between us that I’ve longed to have for so long. Too long.

A closeness with her that I never want to lose.

The very last unanswered email is whisked away with a whoosh. Finally, I have that done. With it, it drags my eyes to my wrist that vibrates with an alert. A premature smile graces my lips until it falls at the sight of a different name, not the one I was expecting.

“What’s takin’ her so long?” I mutter as my eyes flit over Myles’ text, some joke about firing me if I keep staying past five o’clock.

“Bastard,” I sigh with a shake of my head, pressing my palm to the screen as the time repeats in my head.

5:26 passes.

Then, 5:36 passes too as I wait for her to reply to my texts, or to call.

Reckon she should’ve been home by now, having left at 5, I wonder silently, aware of the thrumming of my heart. I’m sure she’s just making something to eat.

Yeah, Harry, that’s it.

Why am I worrying so much? 5 o’clock traffic is a bitch, anyways. It’s what made me late to our date the other night, so I should know.

“She’ll call soon,” I mumble aloud, crafting a quick text to her, adding to the others I’ve already sent her tonight.

i think today may have been my favourite w/ u so far ;) xo

hurry up slowpoke

rebecca ann ur slow. im kiddin. drive safe bug xo

Sighing, I turn back to my iMac where I already have the next episode of FRIENDS queued up, waiting for her.

A new bloop! sounds when an email arrives in my inbox. Clicking on it, I begin to absorb the words until my office phone interrupts with a loud bringggggg!

“This ‘s Harry,” I say automatically, and am answered with an eerie silence. A darkness trickles into my chest at the little sounds accompanying it. The pangs of worry return, demanding to be felt amongst the mix of it all. “Hullo?”

“H-Harry, this is Skye,” a shaky voice replies at last.

“Hi, what’re you doin’ callin’ me main line?” I joke, hoping to add a lightness to the atmosphere that so direly requires one. The fear threatening at my edges gains strength when I make out the likeness of it in her voice. “If yer lookin’ fer Becks she left half an hour ago, reckon she’s home by now.”

“No, s-she’s not,” she says. I hear it, and I immediately wish that I hadn’t. Denying it with a shake of my head, it doesn’t disappear that easily, the crack in her voice. “She . . d-didn’t make it home, Harry.”

“What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout, Skye? I jus’ saw her half an hour ago,” I contend, rushing through my words as my back straightens to full attention.

“I know . . I just talked to her on the phone f-fifteen minutes ago, but Harry . . ,” Skye continues, words wandering away from her. They’re kidnapped by the tears that I finally acknowledge in her voice, and now echoing on the line. “S-She was in . . an accident.”

“What . . What kinda accident? ‘s she alright? W-Who told you this? That can’t be right, I jus’ saw her,” I argue, losing my footing quite immediately.

Rising to my feet, the words are too close for comfort and my knees threaten to give out on me. A hand races to my hair, carding heavy strokes through it that tug hairs loose, but I disregard the pain. Another form of it demands to be felt inside of me, next to my heart that climbs in speed with every moment absent of words. An absence of Becks being okay.

“I don’t want it to be real either, Harry, b-but an officer just rang me. H-He said a car ran a light and h-hit her . . not long after I got off the phone with her. It was right behind the driver’s side and . . it doesn’t look very good,” she reveals, sobs growing thicker in her voice. My feet run rampant circles around my office as my fingers tug violently at my hair.

“This ‘sn’t funny, Skye, if yer pullin’ me leg,” I begin with a forced amusement, but it doesn’t make it very far. I don’t make it that far until I fall onto the sofa, my words crashing into loud sobs that steal my breath away. “I jus’ got her back . . I can’t lose her ‘gain,” the confession comes, drenched in tears that shake my body.

“I know,” she agrees with echoing devastation as tears paint the inside of my palm clung to my face. “She’s been my best friend for t-twenty-one years, Harry. I-I can’t imagine my life without her, and I know she’d never want to imagine a life without you.”

My head shakes rapidly from side to side as the tepid wetness paints stripes down my cheeks, escaping from my eyes that I press shut painfully. Whimpers flee from my lips, the very ones that were just kissing hers thirty minutes prior.

This can’t be happening. No, I can’t lose my Becks when she just found her way back to me.

“No, no . . no, no,” I sob, each utterance becoming more indiscernible with the emotions consuming them. “Not my Becks,” I mutter, air escaping my lungs with such force that leaves me dizzy in the head.

“She’ll be okay, she’s strong, Harry. She’s made it through so much other shit. N-Not this sort, but . . . she broke her leg riding bike one time when we were eight, and she was fine. S-She cut her finger cooking once and drove herself to hospital all herself,” Skye reveals, the trembling words doing nothing to calm my heart that I’m afraid may bound from my chest at a moment’s notice.

“Strongest person I know,” I concur, a hiccup rattling my voice that fights for composure. “W-What’d they tell you . . ‘bout Becks?”

“They’re taking her to uh, King’s Cross hospital. Reckon there’ll be a waiting room I can meet you at while s-she’s in . . surgery,” Skye explains, and my head rushes up and down with nods now. I shakily get to my feet and take a step towards my door, but once again, I don’t make it far. A wooziness falls over me, and I grab the arm of the sofa just in time to recover. “They said they stabilized her and she was breathing and everything, b-but surgery was in order. Car was totaled, though. That’s not good . . No, that’s not good,” she cries, words falling harder and harder the more she goes on. With every one that she speaks, my sobs thicken and louden against the confines of my palm.

“Don’t say that . . D-Don’t, she’s gonna be okay. She has t’ be,” I defend, wishing more with every second that I believed my own words. If the words themselves could wish it into existence, I’d speak them over and over until it came true.

“I’m sorry,” she confesses breathlessly. “I’ll uh, meet you there. C-Call me when you get there. It’s the . . hospital on the west side of town, not too far from you, I reckon. She’s probably . . already there,” Skye finishes before the dial tone drills into my ears, and I’m left listening to my unsteady breaths.

The phone plummets from my hand to meet the floor with a crrrrrunching sound, but I don’t even care. There’s so little I care about in this moment, because my thoughts are consumed by her. They’re racing, demanding, and making me sick. My chest trembles with another intense sob as my palms press against my eyes. Strands of my hair are taut around my fingertips, my scalp searing with pain.

She’s become all I’ve cared about in these last few weeks, and it’s been magnified within moments now.

“No,” I cry, salt water dripping over my lips and plummeting from my chin. “Becks, no.”

Sniffling, it’s suddenly impossible to ignore the rock sitting in my gut. Jumping to my feet, my hands fall as I cross the room and fall to my knees harshly. The cold, granite tiles dig into my boney limbs as I retch into the bin. Grouting in the tiles leaves marks on my skin when I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth moments later.

Sweat beads on my forehead as the room spins around me. Tears press harshly at the back of my eyes when I envision her standing in front of me, kissing me goodbye just moments ago, it seemed. Shakes overwhelm my body within seconds, and my knees kiss the tiles once more. The coolness is welcomed by my flushed forehead as I curl into myself, her smiling face captivating every thought I have while my body convulses with a new sob. It takes the last ounces of strength I can find to pull myself up to a kneeling position, then to plant one foot against the floor, and another until I’m standing.

“‘m comin’, Becks,” I mumble, voice breaking from the first word. Wiping under my eyes, I rip open the door. Feet pounding down the hallway, I sniffle as another warm stripe cascades down my cheeks. A second and third accompany it when I pass her office, and I yank my eyes away, knowing that I can’t look. I’ll collapse to the floor again if I see her name sitting there on the door, waiting for her to return tomorrow morning.

Patting my pockets hastily, I yank my ring of keys from the fabric only to drop them. Cursing, I bend down to pick them up before rounding the corner. I’m almost knocked off my feet by Myles who skids to a halt. Unbeknownst to me, I didn’t think I could be hurting more until I found the look that dawns on his face.

“Hare, what’s wrong?” he demands, grabbing my bicep.

A sob revokes my words and a hand flies to my mouth. Eyebrows falling, tears interrupt my voice as the explanation plays on a loop between my ears.

“Becks, s-she . . ,” I try to say, but a shake of my head places a gap in between my words. “Was inn’a accident. I have t’ go t’ her . . tha hospital. I wanna be there when she wakes up, and-,” now, I cut myself off abruptly. Tears blur my vision, and soon I’m seeing stripes. A feeling surrounds me, and I find that it’s his arms crushing me in a hug. His name drops from my lips in a choked sob.

“You’re not driving anywhere like this. I’ll take ya, Hare,” he murmurs into my ear, out of place back rubbing following his words. “I’m so bloody sorry, mate. Fuck, I just saw her when she left.”

“So did I. H-How can it be real? I just . . . I jus’ got her back, My’. She jus’ came back t’ me and we jus’ started datin’ finally . . I can’t fookin’ lose her all over ‘gain, not fer real this time . . I don’t think I could live inn’a world that she’s not in, Myles,” I confess into his shoulder, clutching onto him. My chest expands and falls against his, convulsing with every worst case scenario that sends tears flying from my eyes.

“It’ll be okay.”

“Don’t fookin’ say that, ‘coz what if it ‘s not? What if she’s not okay? What if she . . d-dies, My’? I can’t-,” the words run away from me, and for once, I’m thankful for it. They’re drenched by too much reality, more than I can stomach.

I don’t remember following him down to the parking garage, or getting into the car. The next thing I know, my head is tipped against the frosty glass window in his BMW, the lights of London cloudy from behind my eyes.

“I jus’ bloody saw her, and I kissed her and hugged her,” I whisper, watching the words fog up the glass, if only for mere seconds. A warm tear dives from my chin, crashing onto the v of my chest.

‘I knows’ answer me back, as well as squeezes to my arms when I least expect them. It all runs into a blur - the traffic, snow fluttering against the windows, and the pounds of tears I shed into the air. Most of all, the thoughts running rampant within me hardly make much sense by the time we’ve parked. The one thing that’s clear as day is how my heart swells with bittersweetness when her face swims inside of my skull, and the love that pours out from it for her.

I already know that I love her, and it only makes me hurt a million times worse.

“She’ll likely be in surgery for a good while, it’s a rather long affair, Hare,” Myles announces as the automatic sliding doors open for us, greeting us with a burst of hot air.

“I know . . Skye said she’s in tha waitin’ room erm, on tha second floor,” I respond, reading from my phone. My eyes fill with more tears as I swipe a finger under the both of them, sniffling.

“Here, I see a lift.”

Relief ironically escapes me when we finally find Skye bouncing her legs up and down in a chair, arms wrapped around herself as she stares at the floor. It takes her a moment to look up after saying her name, but with her disarray of colorful hair, I reckon she’s the best person I can relate to on this entire floor.

“Hey,” I whisper when I embrace her, surprising myself at the same time. A shy ‘hi’ fills my ears as her thin frame greets mine. Her shaking arms squeeze me around the middle, and I linger there for a few seconds than necessary before pulling away. “Has anybody came t’ talk t’ you?”

“No, not yet. I just checked in with somebody when I came in, and they said to come up here. S-So, I did, and the nurse’s desk told me somebody would come when they have news. Whenever that is,” she sighs, flicking a thumb below her eye to catch a tear that strays from her waterline.

“D-Did ya call Robbie and her dad?”

“Yeah, just now. Robbie should be here soon, and Chuck was just about to leave . . I figure he won’t get here until she’s out of surgery, even though we don’t know how bloody long that’ll take. But, he’ll be here i-in a few hours,” she answers, her voice catching on the last of her words.

“I’m gonna go and find us something to drink,” Myles interrupts, nodding his head down the hallway. I mirror his actions, grateful for the offer as I clear my scratchy throat. It dried up the second those very words rocked me to the core.

Silence ensues as I fall onto the lumpy sofa beside her, a telly across the room murmuring softly in the background. Magazines lie open in front of us on the wooden table, chairs and more chairs surrounding us.

“I wish somebody would just tell us something,” she groans beside me, wringing her hands in her lap. A sob stills in her throat and I watch her face collapse along with it.

“I can go and ask, ‘m antsy too. Only been here a minute and already I am,” I suggest with a tough swallow. The lump in my throat greets me again as she shakes her head ‘no.’

Folding my hands together, they come to sit against my mouth as I now bounce my knee. Eyes flitting in every direction, I will a nurse or doctor littering the halls to wander over to us with their bloody clipboard and lab coat.

“Find anythin’ else out tho’?” I pipe up, dropping a hand and letting it squeeze hers. I’ve only met this woman a handful of times, and yet, I know that she’s the closest thing I’ve got to a friend here. She’s the only other person who could understand how I’m feeling right now, because she’s the only other person in this damn hospital who loves Becky too. At the same time, my actions are unprecedented and alien to me, this entire situation is.

Tears arrive in my eyes as I wait for her voice to make a choppy return, “Just when I got here and checked in, s-so to speak, that she was in surgery. They didn’t say what for really, I suppose only the team working on- with her knows,” she explains, and now, I’m the one nodding. A long breath spills from my lips, and it does next to nothing to calm the thrashing of my heart, and the onslaught of my mind.

The reality of the situation brings my head into my palms again where I spill silent tears, accentuated by the whimpers of my lips. My entire body shakes with every sob, every sob that yearns for my arms to return to her. My eyes to see hers again, those baby blues that now, I can’t stop imagining my babies having one day. That painful thought makes them come harder now while I struggle for air, lungs burning for other reasons now, like nonexistent children that I very well may never have with her now.

Fuck.

I wish more than anything that I could be back in my office an hour ago, annoying her with kisses as she finished up an email. What I’d do to have my lungs burning in need of the air filling hers, and not for the air around me that may not even hold her life anymore.

No, I can’t think like that. If I entertain that thought for a millisecond, there’s no going back.

“You know, you’re her whole world and always have been. She couldn’t shut up about you lately, a-and all of your dates. When I spoke to her on the phone r-right before . . . she was saying how amazing of a day she had had . . with you. She couldn’t wait to do it all over again, she’s so mad about you, Harry. S-She even wrote you this letter once saying how she-,” Skye divulges, the words filling my ears. Instantaneously, they want nothing more than to spit them back out.

“Don’t! Don’t say all o’ that. D-Don’t say it in past tense, or like she’s not . . g-gonna be able t’ tell me all ‘bout it. We can’t act that way . . She’s gonna be okay, she’s gotta be okay,” I insist into my hands, struggling for breaths. Lifting my head, I turn it away from her and towards the window, my lips squashed into a line. Briny tears drip over them as I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, hiccups finding their way into the air.

“I’m sorry, I-.”

“I c-can’t talk ‘bout her like she’s- like that. I can’t t-think ‘bout her like that . . her not bein’ here anymo’,” I exclaim, shooting to my feet in order to change directions.

I thought I couldn’t believe my life earlier today and the direction it’d taken, and now, I can’t believe it one bit. I don’t want to, and I wish I didn’t have to. I thought that I was living a dream today, and now, I know that I’m living a nightmare. I didn’t want to wake up earlier, but I need to now, more than anything.

I want to open my eyes and find her curled against my chest, snoring peacefully with her body warming mine. Like last night, a moment I could live in for forever.

A vibrating in my pocket barges into my thoughts, and I’m unsure whether to welcome it as I reach for it. The same ringtone by The Cure sings from around my wrist, and my heart only falls deeper when I see the name claiming it. It sends a wave of relief throughout my body, but it only lasts a few seconds. The only name that could make it permanent is far from an option, and here I am, still wishing for it with my own two eyes. I wish that she wasn’t in an operating room somewhere in this same building, and instead her voice was singing from my phone. That’s how it was supposed to be, anyways.

“Mum,” I answer softly, steps halting in the hallway. A sob freezes in my chest at the thought of having to speak truth into the nightmare I’m living.

“Harry honey, what’s tha matta?” my mum responds, worry rocking her voice.

“‘s Becks. She-,” I confess, but I can’t say it. I want nothing more than to say something else. When she asks if she’s alright, I want to say yes, and it sends wobbles down my legs knowing that I can’t say that. I can’t say it, because I don’t know it.

“It’s okay, love, take a deep breath.”

“I can’t,” I weep, a wail escaping my lips, muffled by my palm. The tear stained skin flies to my hair that I tug at, ignoring the throb of my head hitting the wall of the hallway. “I can’t breathe, mum . . I can’t not knowin’ if she ‘s okay.”

“Oh, darlin’. What happened to her?”

“She w-was . . . inn’a car accident,” I admit breathlessly, sucking in lungfuls of air that don’t do a thing. A fire still lives deep down inside of my chest, and it was born the moment I heard Skye speak those words. “‘m at tha hospital now waitin’ t’ hear sumthin.’ Her best friend’s here with me, but, mum. ‘m so scared . . that ‘m gonna lose her fer real,” I whimper, swiping my tongue across my trembling lips wet with tears.

“Oh, Harry,” she sighs, my sadness mirrored in her voice. “I’m so sorry, love. Do they know the extent of her injuries?”

“I dunno, all they told her friend ‘s that she’s in surgery. We’re waitin’ fer sumbody t’ tell us mo’,” I answer, hiccups stealing my words away from me. “I hate sittin’ here not knowin’, I should go and ask . . but ‘m afraid t’. Mum . . ,” I trail off, weakness overwhelming my body that sags against the wall. I’m not even aware of the people walking past me and the hush of voices, but I couldn’t care less.

“Breathe, honey, please. Everythin’ will be okay. I know it doesn’t seem that way right now, but it will.”

“Ya can’t say that! Ya dunno if ‘s true,” I exclaim, anger seeping through in my voice, but it’s misdirected. “I jus’ want this all t’ be a dream, I don’t want it t’ be real. I can’t think ‘bout it . . ‘bout her . . dyin’.”

“Shhhh, love. I’m sorry.”

“No, I am. But, God, mum . . I love her. I already know I do. I know it sounds bloody mad seein’ we’ve only been on two dates, but-,” I begin, but she interrupts me, reminding me of where I get my love of it from.

“No, it doesn’t sound like that, honey. I know how you’ve felt ‘bout her these last few years, she’s been all you could talk ‘bout,” my mother says, and the only relief that I’ve seen is offered in her voice.

“I love her, mum, and she m-might-,” I try to say, but I can’t spit those words out. I don’t think I ever could, and my desire to avoid them for the rest of eternity trumps all else.

“Do you think she feels tha same way ‘bout you?” she asks calmly. A huff passes my lips, and I breathe in through my nose slowly. It doesn’t make a difference when a melancholy wave knocks me over.

“Y-Ya . . I think I know she does now,” I whimper, my voice drowning in the tears.

“And does she know how you feel ‘bout her, Harry?”

“Ya, reckon she does. I haven’t been able t’ stop lovin’ on her since our first date. And n-now . . I may neva get t’ kiss her ‘gain or hug her or . . ,” the sob leaves more trails of tepid tears on my cheeks. My thumbs press against my eyes, willing the tears to abate, but they don’t obey. Not one part of my body has obeyed my commands since I heard those nightmarish words.

“Then it sounds like she has somethin’ to fight fer, love. It’s not tha ‘end all be all,’ but tha will to live is a powerful thing, son,” she tells me, the first licks of ice calming my feverish heart.

“I hope yer right.”

“I’m your mum, I’m always right,” she quips, and the first hint of a laugh graces my lips. It’s gone as fast as it came, stolen away by another round of whimpers shaking from my lips.

“Everythin’ will be okay, son.”

“And if they aren’t, and . . . she d-doesn’t make it, mum?” I sob, the words finding their exit between sobs that rip from my chest. Pain soars through the tear at the uttering of the words that I have to acknowledge, and wish that I never had to think.

“Then mumma will be there att’a moment’s notice fer ya,” she replies, and I wish I didn’t hear the crack in her voice. It’s the very one that tore open the slit that the tears poured out through. This all started with the crack of a voice. “Lemme know if you want me to come, Harry.”

“B-But I jus’ got her back, mum. I can’t . . She can’t . . ,” I fail once again, and this time, I’m okay with it. I don’t want to ever have to say that word again, I’ve already uttered them one too many times.

“You’ll never lose that love ya had, Harry. Trust me, I know ya can’t. I miss Robin every bloody day, but his passin’ didn’t take away our love or tha memories we made . . I know that your love with her only jus’ started, but ya had somethin’ special. I can already see that, darlin’, and you’ll never lose tha memories you made with her, and tha love that ya made together . . Think of those happy times ya had with her while you’re waitin’ for her to be outta surgery. After that, ya should get some rest, love. Sometimes surgeries can take long, and that’s okay, ‘cause you want tha doctors to be thorough and to do all that they can fer her. And they will do all that they can to save her, Harry . . It’s almost six o’clock, love, and even after her surgery is done, it takes a while to come outta anesthesia. It’ll be a long night. Try to get some rest, son, I’m sure she’d want you to,” she explains to me, and suddenly, I wish I could get a hug from my mum.

The thought propels me into others, wishing I could hide in the arms of another. She’s always been my very favorite hiding place, and another wave rocks through me at the thought of never getting to escape to her arms again. Her smell sends my heart spinning as I drop my phone back into my pocket, aching to have her hair tickle my nose with the scent. Placing my palms against my eyes slick from crying, I hiccup in between tears. Uneven breaths pour in and out of me, and for a second, I can remember the traces of her weight in my arms. The smell of her orange blossom shampoo, the taste of her cherry carmex chapstick, and the strokes of black and gray ink along her wrist.

“Becks, please be okay,” I mutter underneath my breath. My scalp sings with pain when my fingernails dig into the skin, making me realize this is all real. It’s not a dream that I can wake myself up from, because my life became a dream and then fell away into a nightmare.

“Harry!” somebody calls my name. I don’t know how much time has passed, standing there in the corner of the hallway pouring my eyes out into my hands.

It takes a few moments for my eyes to focus ahead of me, and for a fleeting second, her face appears in front of them. Blinking hard, I rub a knuckle against my eye, and she’s gone in a flash. Instead, I find Skye waving me back over to the chairs where a tall man in navy blue scrubs stands in front of her.

“Coming,” I answer, clearing my throat as my feet remember how to work. The tingles that had settled into my sleeping limbs disperse as I take long, hurried steps until I’m at her side again, trying to forget the words she had said earlier.

“Is this everybody?” the man says, tanned arms crossed over his chest.

“No, wait!” another voice pipes up, and I spin around to find Robbie rushing towards us. “I-I’m her brother,” he continues, voice shaky with emotions. His eyes briefly meet mine before he stops at my side, engulfed by a hug of Skye’s.

“Hey,” I mumble when he pulls away with a nod, his fist brushing along one of his cheeks. The greeting is difficult as my eyes are met with pain and striking similarity. Her very same baby blue eyes sit before me, as well as the wavy dark hair, and a distorted version of her lovely facial features.

“Hey, Harry,” he returns, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat after his words.

When his wet eyes meet mine, more unspoken words pass between us including ‘thank you’s and silent understandings. My squeezing grip is met by his taut arm when I watch the shiny tears fill his eyes. He nods back at me, quivering lips absent of words while another tear breaks free from his Holte Blue Eyes. Those goddamned eyes tear another rip into my heart at the mere sight, drudging up the wishes they conjured within my mind just last night.

Styles babies with Holte Blue eyes.

Please, God. Please let that still be a truth.

“Now that we’re all here, I’m Jack. I’m sorry for the circumstances we’re meeting on, but I’m a nurse on your uh, family member’s team. Rebecca was in a serious accident, and we’re doing all that we can. She went into surgery around ten minutes ago, as soon as she got here,” the towering man explains, achieving the closest thing to quieting my mind. I’m just afraid that when he stops talking, my skull will be vibrating with more thoughts, and far worse ones. “She suffered some fractured ribs that unfortunately pierced her spleen, causing internal bleeding. That is the most urgent of her injuries, but rib fractures are incredibly painful. They can make it hard to breathe deeply or to cough properly, sometimes leading to chest infections. In the accident, she also fractured her ankle, but we’re not entirely sure of the extent of it. Due to the impact of the other car hitting her and the location of it, her right arm was broken and . . Grade 2 concussion . . amnesia,” a cloud passes over my ears then, and I turn away, soon falling into a nearby chair.

Worst case scenarios bloom within the attic of my body, spewing tears onto my cheeks. Waterfalls cascade down them, fueled by the replaying of the man’s words between my ears. Fractured ribs. Internal bleeding. Chest infections. Amnesia. Broken ankle. Concussion. Broken arm. The tears come harder at the realization of every word, and how they laden my heart with further darkness. It falls into the recesses of my chest with each passing moment, the obscenities that left his mouth acting as the anchor that yank it down, further and further.

I don’t hear my name the first few times, or register the hand on my shoulder. Swarms of possibilities that I can’t welcome lift me from my seat and down the hall once again until I repeat the past, and ram shoulders with Myles. My eyes fly to his surprised face, but it’s ephemeral before he’s pulling me against his front, and his hand is pressed against the back of my head.

“She’s gotta be okay,” I plead into his shoulder, finding fistfuls of his blazer in my hands. “B-But internal bleedin’ . . amnesia . . broken bones . . a concussion . . infections. My’, I can’t do this,” the revelation feels prickly on my tongue as I fight to flight.

“You can do this, Hare. You have to. Becky, she- she needs you to, mate,” he insists, hands waving stripes against my back. I shake my head back and forth into him, refusing to believe any of this.

“No, this can’t be real. It can’t. I jus’ saw her, I jus’ kissed her and hugged her,” I weep, repetitive begging pouring from my tongue. My hands let go and I push at his chest for escape. He only holds me tighter within his steely arms, and I make out the first of his tears. “I shoulda told her that I loved her, I dunno if she knew. I shoulda told her,” I relent, my body becoming pliant against his.

“She knew, Harry. I think she knew, mate . . You showed it to her in so many bloody ways, you didn’t have to say it. She knew it, she saw it. You’ll get to tell her, and hear her say it back,” he tells me, but my head hasn’t stopped shaking in denial. “Her friend over there is almost smiling, I think. The nurse is too, it looks like maybe it’s not so meek after all, Hare. It looks like she might be okay.”

“This ‘sn’t funny, Myles, I swear t’-,” I wail, breaths filling my lungs and refusing to remain. A ‘no’ fills my ears, and I’m forced to turn around when he pulls away at the sound of my name. Yet, he’s not the one saying it.

“Harry!” Skye calls, and her hurried steps follow her voice. Smearing the tears from my eyes, I gulp and find the bravery to look up. Becky’s best friend in the whole entire world stops in front of me, eyes rimmed with red. “They sound hopeful,” she reveals, the smallest spark of a smile sitting at the edge of her lips. Robbie stops a step behind her, shoving hands into his pockets while a tear falls from the slope of his chin.

“Really?” I croak, stepping away from Myles until his arms fall from me. She answers with a nod and a rosy smile blooms on her lips before my eyes.

“Yeah, they said her vitals are becoming more stable which is good. They’re amazed that her injuries weren’t worse, they said that she got lucky,” she explains, and it sounds like music to my ears. The first good thing I’ve heard tonight, albeit this whole affair only taking up the last hour of my life. It’s felt like days on end, not mere minutes. “I’m gonna go and call Chuck to tell him.”

My nod answers her words and Myles leaves with a pat to my back, “I’m gonna go and check on coffees again, maybe food later when you’re feeling like eating,” he announces. My hand finds its way to my curls once again, surely free of snarls now after the number I did on them.

“It’s good to see you here. Well, not good given the reason why, but you know what I mean.”

Looking up, I find Robbie’s bleary blues pointed at me. I do all that I can, and that’s a nod.

“You too,” I manage at the last moment, patting his arm awkwardly. His feet wander back over to a line of chairs, and I follow him. Falling into the one left of him, a hushed silence surrounds us.

“Did she ever tell you that she has ‘feelings’ about things?” Robbie mutters, a sniffle interrupting his question at times.

“Ya,” I sigh, my bottom lip numb from my teeth pressing into it from all directions. “Good and bad feelings.”

“Yeah . . I got one that I couldn’t shake tonight,” he reveals. His eyes flooded with glassy tears surprise me again, and I almost see her sitting in front of me. A memory from one of our times at the hospital threatens to break loose from the confines of my mind, but I hold it back. “So I rang her, she was just leaving work . . with you. She sounded so happy, and I couldn’t figure out why I’d gotten it. Now, I know . . ,” he finishes, an ironically melancholy laugh bringing his revelation to an end. “Twin intuition, I guess.”

“Ya,” I mutter again, unsure of what else to say. I can’t figure out what to think sitting here in my puddle of tears, let alone something something to fucking say.

“I hated hearing that bloke say those things, detailing all of the shit that happened to her,” Robbie notes aloud, and I find that I can’t tear my eyes away from my hands when I hear the unmistakable sound of tears letting loose. “But I mean . . it helped, and I think I have a feeling she’ll be alright.”

Conflicting tears run races down the slopes of my cheeks, drenching my eyelashes with liquid sadness. It does little to calm the hammering inside of my chest, but the mannerisms of hers I hear in his voice magnify it just slightly. The brash taste of iron spills across my tongue, and I release my bottom lip from its grasp, but it’s too late because the blood is flowing. My hands blur beneath my eyes, the shocks of baby pink and pastel purple burning in my eyes. The very fingers that she held between her own so delicately just last night, swiping the nail polish brush over their naked canvases. Every other is a different pastel wash of color, and I can still picture the bright yellow and teal that I had painted on hers.

The warm metallic taste concentrates on my taste buds when my lips press together harshly, few salty tears finding their way into my mouth with my new sob.

“Yer sista, she- I-,” I stop quickly, not even sure of what I’m saying. I could tell a thousand stories, but I can’t decide which one is right.

“I know, believe me,” Robbie insists, and at last, I glance over to him. Her dark chocolate locks fall over his forehead, longer than from the first and only time I met him at my firm years ago. The fringe tickles at his eyes, and he pushes it out of his face. “You have something else, you two. I’ve only been telling her to jump your bones for the last two or so years,” he divulges, and a laugh so out of the ordinary adorns my lips. It sputters to a stop, feeling wildly inappropriate, but it comes back to life when a similar one echos from beside me.

His eyes meet mine briefly, and hold me there looking into her blue eyes as we chuckle together. It doesn’t necessarily feel right, because it feels oh so very wrong. When that thought worms its way into my attic, the sound floats away from the both of us quickly.

“I heard it all, you know. Your story’s out,” he tells me matter of factly, but the sarcasm can’t find a place in his voice. It falls away, forgotten. “I told her it was about goddamn time you two started dating. She should’ve listened to me sooner, but no, she’s too fucking stubborn.”

“Yer tellin’ me,” I hum, running the pad of my thumb over the glossy nail polish. If I focus hard enough, blocking out the ringing of the phones and Skye’s hushed voice, I can hear her laugh in the recesses of my mind. Laughing about messing up my pink thumb last night, alarm raised in her honey-like voice. “‘m not much betta, ‘m afraid. I didn’t even get t’ ask her on tha first date, she beat me t’ it.”

“I heard . . That sounds like her, always gotta be in control. She had to do everything first when we were little. Talk first, walk first, ride a bike without stabilisers, or graduate bloody uni first,” Robbie remarks, dragging the sole of his Old Skool mustard Vans along the edge of his leftie. “I dunno how she’s gonna fair having her dominant arm in a cast, she’ll throw a fit.”

“Oh, I know. They betta make it purple,” I comment, and he snickers beside me, the tears still falling although silently.

“She’ll make them do it all over again if they didn’t do it right the first time. It better look all perfect for Ree.”

His tears drill into my ears, yanking at my heart, but a small relief accompanies them. He’s not using past tense, and although hardly noticeable, it makes this bearable. I’ve spoken to the bloke only once in my life, and she was there beside me then, but I find it easier with every second. Save for the moments I peek at him and see traces of her painted all over him. They aren’t bleeding twins for nothing, I admit quietly, even noticing them wearing the same brand of shoes. A pang attacks my heart when I see him spinning the braided silver ring around his middle finger, and too quickly, I could picture it being hers.

“D’ya think she’ll . . ,” I begin, but it feels wrong from the start, and I wish it’d never begun. With a shake of my head, I pick off a piece of purple nail polish from my pinkie. The action ricochets around in my chest, and I blink hard at the searing action. No, I can’t, because there’s a chance that she won’t be there to fix it.

“It sounds rubbish, but our feelings are always right, Ree and I. With our dad, her with you, and me knowing something was going to happen tonight. Now, I think it’ll be okay. Stupid, I know, but I just do. I-I can’t . . . can’t think about her not being okay, she’s my . . . twin sister. I don’t want to think about it,” he confesses in between scattered tears, words growing thick and indistinct.

“Neitha can I,” I admit, my chest falling at the end when more tears break loose from their gates. “She can’t leave, n-not this early. There’s so much I want with her still. She’s made a damn good lawyer already, and I know she’d make a betta mum and-.”

“She will, there’s nothing she’s not good at,” Robbie concurs with a sad smile adorning his face. I blink, and it’s gone as soon as it had come. “She always got back up after she fell too, on our bikes, ice skating, or even with leaving uni and then going back. Working at your firm too, you could even say. I just- I really want to believe that she’ll get back up from this too.”

“Me too . . mo’ than anythin’,” I agree aloud, shuffling my gray rose ring up and down the length of my finger as I picture the flower that adorns her wrist. “I need Becks t’ be okay.”

Phoebe and Joey flit across the screen in front of me, laughs and smiles shared on their faces. My head falls at the realization that those are the furthest things I could feel right now, or do. Licking my chapped lips, another tear graces my tongue. They’re fewer now, however long it’s been that I’ve been sitting in this chair. Asher waits with wandering eyes a few seats over now, and somehow, I’ve only said two words to him. It sends crashing pain through my insides to look at Robbie, her literal twin, but when I look at Asher, avalanches of grief fall inside of me.

The images in front of me spark memory after bittersweet memory, and they try to whisk me away to a time where I was sitting in a chair like this and she was at my side laughing. Shaking my head, I find it in my hands once again, their three voices murmuring off to the side while devouring subs with Myles.

Somehow, it’s already late. The sky is pitch black outside, and the stars twinkling somewhere that I can’t find. My eyes droop and yawns leave me occasionally, but sleep couldn’t be further away. If it was knocking at my door, I’d ignore it then too. There were few updates, and each one sounded more hopeful, but I’m afraid to get my hopes up. I’ve done that far too many times concerning her, and nine times out of ten, it left me broken. I hope that I can curb that if maybe I don’t get excited, and yet, saying goodbye to the hope fuels the fire killing me off on the inside.

I want to turn it off, but I can’t find the remote. I wish I could turn all of this off, but I don’t know how. I can’t let myself fall asleep. No, not until she wakes up, and they just left minutes ago saying she was done in the OR after a successful surgery. I was surprised by how little it had phased me, seeing how Skye jumped to her feet and Robbie was all smiles. Myself though, I couldn’t seem to find one anywhere. I can’t find him. Me. I felt Myles watching me, and worrying. I knew she would be doing the same thing if this was all different, and I couldn’t count how many times I had wished for that truth by now.

I wished that this could all be different, and alas, here I am too scared to believe it could be. The fear debilitates me with every waking second to believe that things could be okay. I’m so afraid to believe that she’ll be alright, because this all seems so sick and that it changes with every corner I turn.

The rest of the episode passed before my absent eyes, and then Skye was coming back from seeing her in Recovery. Tears plastered her cheeks now, more than before, and they didn’t shy away from mine either.

“You should go and see her,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be honest, i-it’s awful seeing her like that, b-but . . . it’s her. She’s okay.”

Words flee from my lips, replaced with an adamant shake of my head. I can’t even meet her eyes, because the only ones I can see are Becky’s. Now, I try to push them out of my head as I stare at my feet, the splashes of pink and purple begging for my attention. The color I so deeply crave is only within her eyes, and with a whimper, I try to will the image back to me. I fail, and the tears fall harder down my cheeks, making me wish I could be peppering kisses along hers.

I’m on my feet before I know what I’m doing, or where I’m going. The instructing words from before repeat between my ears, pulling my feet around a corner and then another. They take me left, and then right. A long hall appears in front of me, and then I’m searching the walls. Numbers climb and climb until I find the very ones I’m looking for. A sob splashes against my palm when it comes to my lips, pressing hard against my mouth.

208, it reads but that’s not what I see.

February 8th is what I see staring back at me. The day of our first date, only three days ago. How in the hell has it only been three days since? How in the living fuck has it only been three hours since all of this has happened?

My feet freeze in their path, and I ignore the nurses and doctors passing me, zig zagging from room to bloody room. Beeping wanders into my ears, and I painfully wonder which one is hers. Which one of those beeps is from her heart? Will it come to an abrupt stop and bring people rushing to her? Can she even hear it? No, she probably can’t, she’s still ‘asleep,’ or so they said.

I don’t think I’m ready. No, I can’t be. How in the bleeding world could I be ready to see what I’m about to witness? I couldn’t ever be ready for this, and I never wanted to be. I never wanted to be having these thoughts living in my head, more than mere doubts and nightmares planted there randomly. Alas, I know why they’re there, and not for the reason I think first. No.

I worry.

I fear.

I cry.

I doubt.

I struggle for breath.

I grieve.

I sob.

I ache.

Because I love.

No, not loved.

I love.

All of these emotions and signs of pain course through me, one after the other, because I love that girl lying in that bed just behind those curtains. I love her, and I’ve known it all along. It’s what brought me here, in every way possible. It’s what propels me forward when the nurse at the computer nods, sliding open the gray curtain. It’s what pulls my eyes to the bed, and to the false sounds of breathing. Love is what wrenches the sobs from my chest at the appearance of wires, tubes, and machines hooked up to her. Love is the force that spins me around and makes me shoot down the hall, crumpling to the floor once I reach the corner by the vending machine. Love is what fills my tears that carry images of her lying in that bed fighting for her life. Love fights within myself as my entire body is racked with sobs while I curl into a ball, wishing that seeing wasn’t believing.

“‘m alright if yer alright, Becks . . . B-But ‘m not alright.”

My eyes continue to play tricks on me, but once I blink back the swarm of tears drowning in them, I find that this actually can get worse. Far worse. Their familiar glances shoot over to me and I don’t return them, ignoring the tears staining my skin. They disperse, but he remains there in the center of the waiting room, eyes on me. When I meet those sad blues at last, the newest sob is welcomed by my lips. In a blur, his arms welcome me and I let them.

“It’s okay,” he croons against my ear, but my head shakes ‘no’s’ again and again into his unfamiliar shoulder.

“But ‘s not. She’s not okay . . doesn’t even look like her in there. There’s so many wires and tubes and-,” my ragged breaths cut me off in time as his large hands clap against my back.

“She’ll be okay. She’s a fighter, Harry, always has been. She’s already fighting hard, I see.”

“I wanted so fookin’ badly t’ think that this was all a dream, b-but then I saw her and . . . ‘s not,” I whimper, a new smell surrounding me as I clutch onto the back of his cold windbreaker.

“Boops has been a fighter ever since she was born, Harry. Did she ever tell you that?”

“No . . tell me what?” I return, my heart crashing around wildly inside my ribs, about to break free at a moment’s notice.

“Her and Robbie had to stay in the hospital for a week after they were born,” Chuck narrates, his large palms pressed to my trembling back. “Not Ree, though, she was in and out. It only took her four days to figure everything out - how to breathe properly, eat, and even shit. But Robbie, he took a week. She was smaller too, but somehow she beat all the odds. They say that there’s typically a smaller twin who doesn’t get as much nutrition and the like while in the womb. They don’t have as good of chances thriving outside of the womb, but lookie there. Ree amazed us all, and she’s continued to do so ever since, Harry. I don’t think she’ll disappoint us today either, son,” he finishes, pulling away to cup my face with his palm. The Holte Blues stare back at me, and I catch her features mirrored in his. He nods at me with lips pressed into a flat line, and I see the tears welling in front of the blue as he pats my cheek.

“Yer daughter, Chuck, I-.”

“I know you do, that’s why you’re here . .That’s why you’re so scared, and I’m rather damn positive she does too,” he returns, ending his words with a wink.

I love her . . more than there are stars in the sky, and more than there are beats of my heart.

I had lost track of how many episodes I had watched of The Office on the telly, but it was wasted, because the images cut in and out in front of my absent eyes. The voices of those around me trickled through when I wasn’t battling with myself. I had long since ignored the gurgling of my stomach, and the buzzing of my phone. The only thing that finally woke me from my drowning senses was when Skye rushed into the room, jittery from the four coffees she'd downed.

“She passed her vent test to come off it and is breathing on her own!” she exclaims, rather close to jumping for joy. Robbie soon finds himself caught in her embrace, and during my escape, I whiz past them and down the hall.

“Becks,” I mumble under my breath, scratching at my cheek as the first new tears in the last half hour arrive in my tired eyes. I ignore their trailing voices, and the new sounds I’ve been drowning out.

I rush past people and their stares, prying and not. Their eyes question me, and I don’t stop, craving the eyes that I’ve been without for far too long. Her blues. But I don’t find them when I delve into that room for the second time in three hours. Yet, I’m met with something miraculous all of the same.

Most of the wires have disappeared from her body, and the tubes previously hidden in her throat are as well. The first hints of relief wash over me when I take another step, and then another until she’s within reach. It’s not the same and not how I pictured it, but there she is, just a step away. I’m so fucking glad it’s not like one of the ways I had thought of. Her skin is warm underneath my lips, singing praises behind my eyes. The splashes of blues and reds painting her face pull thick streams of tears onto my cheeks as I press kisses to hers. Steady breaths of hers tickle my skin, sprouting the first smile in hours on my lips.

It’s my Becks.

It’s her, my girl.

Prickly stitches smatter her skin in places, but I avoid them as I run my fingers through her hair, brushing it off of her angelic face. A whimper escapes from my lips for a second, silenced by my hand as her face grows hazy from interrupting tears. My tears fall onto her ghost like skin, the remnants of orange blossoms speckled here and there.

“‘m here, and yer alright. Everythin’s gonna be alright, my Becks,” I murmur against her forehead, peppering kisses to the freckles hidden amongst her skin. “‘m not goin’ anywhere, bug,” I finish, voice catching on the last word when I’m reminded of her saying the very same thing to me earlier today. “And neitha are you. Y-Ya keep yer promises too . . dontcha, Rebecca Ann? . . An episode o’ FRIENDS came on earlier in tha waitin’ room . . it was our favourite one, ‘Tha One at tha Beach.’ I didn’t wanna watch it without you . . it hurt too much t’, b-but I shoulda known it was a sign that you’d be okay. And now, here ya are, me li’l fighta.”

“I think . . I think I love you, Becks . . I dunno when I even decided that, seems ‘s been that way fer a while,” I confess into her hair, finalizing my words with another peck to her dark chocolate waves. “Please wake up so I can tell you, li’l one . . ‘ll be waitin’ here ‘til ya do.”

The only response I receive is the steady beating of the monitors sitting at her side. I watch them, sniffling, entranced by the numbers that vary only a few. A calmness washes over me as I lace my fingers with those of her left hand, careful of the wires, while watching the steady numbers. My eyes flit back to her, hidden underneath plain white blankets, and the pain makes a return to me once again. I know it’s all masked under there, the multitudes of stitches, casts, gauze, and brokenness. Injuries that I can’t fathom, no more than when that nurse breathed life into them in the waiting room.

“Ya said yest’day at me house that it was scary t’ admit how ya felt ‘bout me, and bloody hell, ‘s this scary t’ admit t’ you . . Last night I was thinkin’ ‘bout what our kids would look like. ‘m gettin’ ahead o’ meself, I know, only been on two dates so far,” I laugh ever so softly, thumbing at my ticklish nose while the whispers drop from my lips. Circles and curly mazes are left on her hand where my thumb draws them gently, even her name left there in invisible ink. “I hope mo’ than anythin’ they’d have yer gorgeous blue eyes, and prolly some perfect combo o’ our brown hair . . I hope they’d have yer cute li’l dimple, and yer beautiful laugh. Bet they’d be smart like you too, bug, and have yer drive t’ neva give up on sumthin’ . . I dunno if we’d be here if ya hadn’t given up on me . . and I promise you ‘m not ever gonna give up on you, Becks. Never . . ‘ll tell ya ‘bout all tha rest when ya wake up in tha mornin’. Sweet dreams, sleepyhead,” I announce, swallowing against my throat akin to a dessert.

Antiseptic and unfamiliarity greets my nose when I lay one last kiss on her forehead, careful of the nasal cannula across her cheeks. The feet of the metal chair squeal when I pull the chair closer to the bed, her hand limp in mine. Shocks of teal and yellow prick at my eyes, bringing the smallest of smiles to my face with a harsh gulp.

Wiping my nose with the back of my hand, my eyes scan over her obsessively, and lovingly. Underneath the strange blue gown, her chest rises and falls while her fingers remain warm in mine. I settle into the chair, adjusting it until I can lay my arm on the empty patch of bed at her side like a ninety degree angle. There, I lay my head, lulled into a quick sleep by her slow breathing, finally assured that she’s alright.

Only because of that, am I alright too.

My dreams had whisked me away, but it wasn’t for nearly long enough. I couldn’t know how long it had been. At the same time, it was too long and yet, not long enough. I didn’t know that I’d be grateful for waking up, and yet at the same time, the bittersweetness would make me yearn for my ignorant dream world once again.

I’m woken by the feeling of something touching me, and as I slowly come to, I find it’s somebody playing with my hair. As sleep begins to drip off the edges of my subconscious, I can only wonder who that could be, until I suddenly know. My eyes fly open and flit to the face peering down at me. Her’s, and yet, it’s not.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she murmurs in a scratchy voice, propelling my body upwards within a second.

“B-Becks!” I stammer, blinking hard in between rubbing at my eyes quickly, trying to decide if what I’m seeing is real. I find it hard to figure out what I want to be real, glimpsing again the bruises and cuts brandishing her face.

“Hi,” she whispers, trying to smile, but I see that she doesn’t have it in her.

“Becks,” I croak, tears tugging at every breath of the word as my arms go around her, and my face dives into her hair.

“Ouch, careful,” she protests, and profuse apologies fill the air around us. “It’s okay,” she insists, the wires getting caught between us and my body surrounding hers.

I back up instantly at the sound of her painful words, but it’s the very last thing I want to do. Touching her and wrapping her up in my arms has been the only thing I’ve wanted to do this entire time, ever since I got the call. Reality blanketing me sends thick sobs from me, and into her hair that doesn’t even smell like her anymore. The smell of orange blossom and vanilla is absent, and it continues to make this entire thing worse. It makes it too surreal, more real than I can handle.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she hums gently, a crackly sound to her labored voice. Her hands although dainty before, leave ghostlike trails on my back, adding another tally to the surrealness board.

“D’ya rememba w-who I am?” I ask hurriedly, pulling away to find her exhausted eyes searching for mine. A corner of her chapped lips just barely curls into her cheek, the always present pink color fleeting in the moment.

“Of course, you’re . . my Harry,” she mumbles with a long, tired blink. The mere five words pull thicker sobs from my lips. I just glimpse the beginnings of tears in her eyes when I return to her arms that beckon for me.

“‘m so glad yer okay, Becks, so glad. I was bloody terrified ya wouldn’t be,” I confess into the warm crook of her neck, finding a trace of her fruity-vanilla scent tucked away there.

“Me too, Harry,” she comments a few seconds too late, marked by a clearing of her throat. Although I’m not much better, I hear the evident struggle in her voice like she’s woken up after sleeping, but I know that the raspiness clouding her voice isn’t from that. It’s from the tube that was shoved down her throat to breathe for her, and probably caused the worst sore throat in existence.

She hardly feels the same, body marked by wires and tubes, a scratchy gown, and an abrasive cast all along her right arm. Prickly threads dot her body in places where the glass left cuts too deep to leave, and the antiseptic smell of a hospital sticks to her all over. I want to hold her against me, to squeeze her all over until I know that she’s real and that this isn’t just a dream. The kiss I press to the top of her head is marred by the smell of iron, and the crusty feeling of blood hidden among her hair. The next one I leave on her forehead is better, and the warmth of her skin under my touch scores a point for reality, although a harsh one.

“D’ya rememba . . what happened?” I wonder aloud, painfully. My heart, too shocked from the last several hours, doesn’t even budge when the sight of her again astonishes me. Her swollen left eye is surrounded by blue and purple bruises that paint her face in places.

She nods her head up and down, until her face creases with presumed pain and she stops. My hand covers her entire cheek that I rub with the pad of my thumb, back and forth, back and forth.

“I don’t know. . I only remember saying goodbye to you, and then . . talking to the nurse now. I’m glad that’s the last thing . . I remember,” she replies slowly, the words fleeing her lips at times.

“Y-yer amazin’, y’know that?” I sigh, the tears ever so present, and I’m unsure of when they’ll ever make their departure. A laugh tries to sound from her lips, but not even within a few seconds, her face is overcome with anguish. “Hey, are ya okay?”

“It hurts, but she gave me something.”

“Where’s it hurt, bug?” I question, eyes dancing across her body mostly covered by the thick hospital blankets.

“Everywhere,” she exhales, sounding short of breath. My lips stray to her forehead once more to leave a peck there, unsure of what more I could do. “Mostly my head . . arm, and tummy.”

“Ya, that’s . . . where they cut ya open t’ fix ya up. And . . ya got a pretty nasty concussion, and a broken arm. It was a good thing ya were wearin’ yer seatbelt, love,” I tell her, struggling to resist covering her in kisses. If only that were the antidote for fixing all of this, for fixing her. I would do it in a heartbeat if it made all of this go away, as if it never happened.

“Always,” she almost smiles, making my heart flutter. A smile tugs at my lips as I admire her, sure I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life, or bittersweet. She adjusts the nasal cannula feeding her additional oxygen, and I just hope it’s enough. I hope that this is all enough, and that so am I.

Her heavy eyes drift closed, but the second they do, they flutter open again. They wander back to me and a stronger smile pulls at her lips, mimicking the same motion on the strings of my heart.

“Don’t fight it, baby, get some rest,” I coo, stroking my fingers through her hair to move it away from her face, careful in doing so.

“I’m okay . . I want to stay with you, Harry,” Becks admits gently, licking her dry lips. A sound of disbelief leaves mine.

“Always so selfless, you are.”

“I’m sorry,” she yawns, wincing again at another wave of pain, making me step forward. If I try to again, there aren’t any more that I can take, regardless of the wishful thought that I have to slip into bed with her. “I can’t imagine how . . upset and scared you’ve been,” she apologizes, reaching a hand out to find mine, and it causes my heart to seize with a dose of happiness.

“No, don’t you apologize. None o’ this ‘s yer fault, ‘s tha asshole who hit you whose fault it ‘s. Yer doin’ so good, Becks, ‘m . . . so fookin’ happy ya came back t’ me . . so proud. My Becks,” I say, smiling through the tears washing out my words. I see the smallest hint of the dimple in her left cheek when they round out from the tiniest of smiles.

“I’ll always . . come back to you, Harry,” she smiles, and I give in, dipping to press my lips to hers. She may smell different, feel different, and even taste different, but the kiss makes me sure that this is my same Becks, and that this isn’t all a dream. Regardless of the fact that I wish it all was just a made-up dream that I could wake up from, I’m okay with the fact that it isn’t, as long as my girl is okay.

Finally, she’s my girl.

And finally, she’s okay.

My Becks.

A/N: Hello, lovely people! Okay.... I am SO sorry for that, but thanks for sticking through it.. I promise Becks will be okay, I would never break up Hecky like that. I apologize for no real content warnings, I didn’t know how to do that without ruining the chapter... Also, please cut me some slack if I get any medical things wrong or they’re unrealistic, I’m not a doctor and I’m doing my best with what Google can give me and from personal experience in hospitals. Thanks SO much for reading all this way into the story, I mean it when I say I’m excited for you to see what’s going to happen! Feel free to visit my askbox if you want to talk after this rollercoaster of a chapter, I feel you. I’d LOVE to talk to anybody about Hecky anytime, or if you want a sneak peek of next week’s chapter lemme know! Make sure to check out the Hecky playlist - although it’s long, I think it has some great tunes on there that remind me of our fav couple! I admittedly had it playing the whole time I was making pasta the other day :P Have a great day, ily c:

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