Status: I don't think I'll continue writing this, so most likely discontinued. :/
It's a Love Story
"all i want to find is an easier way to get out"
Alex's POV:
“Thank you.” The woman at the register handed back a cluster of coins that clinked together in my clenched fist, feeling cold and hard – two words that perfectly described my location. I picked up the two coffees I had just paid for and sighed heavily as I stepped away from the counter for the next rumpled, red-eyed customer to buy a little more energy to keep his life going.
After last year, I didn’t think I would ever be able to stomach another hospital. The peeling white walls, soulless atmosphere, and pungent antibiotic odor reminded me too much of the terrible price I once had to pay, and a sudden bout of guilt surged through me, momentarily paralyzing me.
Get it together, Alex, I warned myself. I took a deep breath, calming myself and erasing past memories from my mind, before walking steadily to the slumped figure in the rickety, badly cushioned plastic chair. Her head was in her trembling hands, her light blond hair, which in this waning fluorescent light appeared more silver than golden, had fallen over her face, effectively covering her, and she was still in her school uniform, even though school ended hours ago.
I slid into the seat next to her, wincing slightly as the plastic creaked and groaned its complaints. “Here, Juliette. Coffee.”
She looked up briefly. “Thanks.” She sounded exhausted. I handed her the cup, and for a moment our fingers brushed as she accepted the steaming drink, giving me a strange tingling feeling that spread from my fingertips up to the rest of my body. The hairs on my arm rose and I shivered unconsciously, even though her touch was warm. Surprised at my reaction, I pulled my hand away and attempted to put on a responsible, I’m-a-teacher expression.
“How are you holding up?” I asked her.
She shrugged, carelessly brushing messy strands out of her face. “Okay. I guess.” She sighed heavily. “It’s just – it’s been a long day.”
I nodded, and watched her as she sipped her coffee. She was gazing straight forward, her expression unreadable. In this light, her long lashes drew shadows on her delicate cheekbones when she looked down, and although I’ve always heard that fluorescent lighting was unflattering, she looked beautiful right then. Her coral lips made a small “o” as she blew on the surface of the hot liquid, her multi-ringed fingers clenching the cup as though it was more than a drink, but as though if she let go, she would lose her grip on this strange reality she had been forced into. I felt a swell of sympathy for her; we may have been from completely different worlds, but at that moment, I felt like I completely understood her.
“So, uh,” I broke the silence awkwardly. “What’d they tell you?” I asked, referring to the doctor who had come out to speak to her – not wanting to risk being around for any kind of emotional moment, I had immediately jumped up and offered to get coffee. Call me cowardly, but I remembered all too well a similar, more personal scenario that had ended with some devastatingly horrible news.
Her green eyes flicked toward me, and I was struck by how much emotion was hidden in those emerald orbs, those gold flecks that seemed to flicker and die in the dim light. She seemed so much older, I realized, than her seventeen years. It just wasn’t fair for a teenager to have to mature that fast. She bit her lower lip, clearly fighting an inner debate on whether to confide in me or not, before she seemed she seemed to reach a decision in her mind, and the words cascaded out of her mouth. “They’re pumping her stomach. Alcohol poisoning. But she’ll be fine in a couple of hours.” She dropped her gaze and appeared to steel herself for her next words. “My mom is an alcoholic.”
A short silence ensued. Her words hung horribly in the tense atmosphere, dripping with a forced harshness that couldn’t hide the quaver in her tone, the desperate desire for someone to cry out, “No, of course she isn’t!”, and for one quick moment I wanted to be the one to offer that comfort to her. I wanted to assure her that these kind of disasters happened to other people, never upper-crust, wealthy families that exuded perfection and class with every sip of bubbly champagne they took. But I couldn’t lie to her. Because behind closed doors, I knew, those seemingly perfect families weren’t invincible. They were the ones that were the most broken inside, the most flawed. And these things did happen to them. And right then I understood her dilemma. It must be difficult, I pondered, having to fake perfection in such a superficial town. It was unfair for her to have to take on such a heavy responsibility.
“I’m sorry,” I offered up meekly, and then immediately winced at how empty my words seemed. “No, Juliette.” I waited until she had gazed back up at me, her eyes uncertain and questioning. “I mean it. I know what it’s like, to feel helpless, like there’s nothing you can do about it. But that’s not true. There’s always something you can do about it. You just have to show her how much she means to you. You need to tell her that, more than anything, you want to help her. Because you never know when it’s too late.” I shivered and swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat, wishing more than ever that I had once been able to man up and follow the same advice I was offering up now. If only…
Juliette gave me a small smile. It was weak, but it was genuine – I could tell from how the gold flecks in her brilliantly green eyes brightened ever so slightly. “Thank you.” She paused. “And thanks for bringing me here.”
“You don’t need to thank me for that, doll,” I assured her sincerely.
And then, I don’t know who insinuated it, or if it happened completely by accident, but my hand brushed over hers, and her palm turned to face up. My fingers curled around her hand, and I looked down to see our hands woven together. “You can call me anytime you need help,” I murmured. My heart lurched and I had this sudden urge to pull her close to me, close enough to smell her vintage floral scent that I had never been able to get a proper whiff of, close enough to feel her against me. Warning signs clanged in my head, a voice was screaming stopstopstop, and it took every ounce of my willpower to drop her hand and look away. “Juliette, I – “ I began.
Before I even knew what I intended to say, let alone have time to say it, a doctor appeared in front of us. “Miss Lewis?”
She looked away from me, her expression clearly puzzled, and focused on the doctor. “Yes?” she said urgently.
“Your mother’s awake. She’d like to see you.”
“Oh. Okay.” Juliette stood up breathlessly. She turned to me. “Wolff – “
I bolted up. “Listen, Juliette, I actually should get going, I’m sorry.” I felt like a complete jackass when I saw her eyes widen innocently, but I felt incredibly claustrophobic all of the sudden. “I’ll talk to you in –“ The word felt stuck in my throat, and I cleared my throat with some difficulty. “In, ah, school, alright? Call me if you need any help.”
Leaving her completely confused, I’m sure, I hurried the hell out of there. I felt like I was choking; I couldn’t stay in that Emergency Room one more second than I had to. Once I was out of her line of vision, I sprinted to the doors and pushed them open, almost knocking out an elderly man in the process, and ran outside.
Taking deep breaths, I collapsed onto a bench and buried my head in my hands, wishing there was some way to permanently erase the last couple of minutes from my mind. Juliette was my student. I could not, could not, could not have any kind of feelings for her.
What the fuck had I gotten myself into?
“Thank you.” The woman at the register handed back a cluster of coins that clinked together in my clenched fist, feeling cold and hard – two words that perfectly described my location. I picked up the two coffees I had just paid for and sighed heavily as I stepped away from the counter for the next rumpled, red-eyed customer to buy a little more energy to keep his life going.
After last year, I didn’t think I would ever be able to stomach another hospital. The peeling white walls, soulless atmosphere, and pungent antibiotic odor reminded me too much of the terrible price I once had to pay, and a sudden bout of guilt surged through me, momentarily paralyzing me.
Get it together, Alex, I warned myself. I took a deep breath, calming myself and erasing past memories from my mind, before walking steadily to the slumped figure in the rickety, badly cushioned plastic chair. Her head was in her trembling hands, her light blond hair, which in this waning fluorescent light appeared more silver than golden, had fallen over her face, effectively covering her, and she was still in her school uniform, even though school ended hours ago.
I slid into the seat next to her, wincing slightly as the plastic creaked and groaned its complaints. “Here, Juliette. Coffee.”
She looked up briefly. “Thanks.” She sounded exhausted. I handed her the cup, and for a moment our fingers brushed as she accepted the steaming drink, giving me a strange tingling feeling that spread from my fingertips up to the rest of my body. The hairs on my arm rose and I shivered unconsciously, even though her touch was warm. Surprised at my reaction, I pulled my hand away and attempted to put on a responsible, I’m-a-teacher expression.
“How are you holding up?” I asked her.
She shrugged, carelessly brushing messy strands out of her face. “Okay. I guess.” She sighed heavily. “It’s just – it’s been a long day.”
I nodded, and watched her as she sipped her coffee. She was gazing straight forward, her expression unreadable. In this light, her long lashes drew shadows on her delicate cheekbones when she looked down, and although I’ve always heard that fluorescent lighting was unflattering, she looked beautiful right then. Her coral lips made a small “o” as she blew on the surface of the hot liquid, her multi-ringed fingers clenching the cup as though it was more than a drink, but as though if she let go, she would lose her grip on this strange reality she had been forced into. I felt a swell of sympathy for her; we may have been from completely different worlds, but at that moment, I felt like I completely understood her.
“So, uh,” I broke the silence awkwardly. “What’d they tell you?” I asked, referring to the doctor who had come out to speak to her – not wanting to risk being around for any kind of emotional moment, I had immediately jumped up and offered to get coffee. Call me cowardly, but I remembered all too well a similar, more personal scenario that had ended with some devastatingly horrible news.
Her green eyes flicked toward me, and I was struck by how much emotion was hidden in those emerald orbs, those gold flecks that seemed to flicker and die in the dim light. She seemed so much older, I realized, than her seventeen years. It just wasn’t fair for a teenager to have to mature that fast. She bit her lower lip, clearly fighting an inner debate on whether to confide in me or not, before she seemed she seemed to reach a decision in her mind, and the words cascaded out of her mouth. “They’re pumping her stomach. Alcohol poisoning. But she’ll be fine in a couple of hours.” She dropped her gaze and appeared to steel herself for her next words. “My mom is an alcoholic.”
A short silence ensued. Her words hung horribly in the tense atmosphere, dripping with a forced harshness that couldn’t hide the quaver in her tone, the desperate desire for someone to cry out, “No, of course she isn’t!”, and for one quick moment I wanted to be the one to offer that comfort to her. I wanted to assure her that these kind of disasters happened to other people, never upper-crust, wealthy families that exuded perfection and class with every sip of bubbly champagne they took. But I couldn’t lie to her. Because behind closed doors, I knew, those seemingly perfect families weren’t invincible. They were the ones that were the most broken inside, the most flawed. And these things did happen to them. And right then I understood her dilemma. It must be difficult, I pondered, having to fake perfection in such a superficial town. It was unfair for her to have to take on such a heavy responsibility.
“I’m sorry,” I offered up meekly, and then immediately winced at how empty my words seemed. “No, Juliette.” I waited until she had gazed back up at me, her eyes uncertain and questioning. “I mean it. I know what it’s like, to feel helpless, like there’s nothing you can do about it. But that’s not true. There’s always something you can do about it. You just have to show her how much she means to you. You need to tell her that, more than anything, you want to help her. Because you never know when it’s too late.” I shivered and swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat, wishing more than ever that I had once been able to man up and follow the same advice I was offering up now. If only…
Juliette gave me a small smile. It was weak, but it was genuine – I could tell from how the gold flecks in her brilliantly green eyes brightened ever so slightly. “Thank you.” She paused. “And thanks for bringing me here.”
“You don’t need to thank me for that, doll,” I assured her sincerely.
And then, I don’t know who insinuated it, or if it happened completely by accident, but my hand brushed over hers, and her palm turned to face up. My fingers curled around her hand, and I looked down to see our hands woven together. “You can call me anytime you need help,” I murmured. My heart lurched and I had this sudden urge to pull her close to me, close enough to smell her vintage floral scent that I had never been able to get a proper whiff of, close enough to feel her against me. Warning signs clanged in my head, a voice was screaming stopstopstop, and it took every ounce of my willpower to drop her hand and look away. “Juliette, I – “ I began.
Before I even knew what I intended to say, let alone have time to say it, a doctor appeared in front of us. “Miss Lewis?”
She looked away from me, her expression clearly puzzled, and focused on the doctor. “Yes?” she said urgently.
“Your mother’s awake. She’d like to see you.”
“Oh. Okay.” Juliette stood up breathlessly. She turned to me. “Wolff – “
I bolted up. “Listen, Juliette, I actually should get going, I’m sorry.” I felt like a complete jackass when I saw her eyes widen innocently, but I felt incredibly claustrophobic all of the sudden. “I’ll talk to you in –“ The word felt stuck in my throat, and I cleared my throat with some difficulty. “In, ah, school, alright? Call me if you need any help.”
Leaving her completely confused, I’m sure, I hurried the hell out of there. I felt like I was choking; I couldn’t stay in that Emergency Room one more second than I had to. Once I was out of her line of vision, I sprinted to the doors and pushed them open, almost knocking out an elderly man in the process, and ran outside.
Taking deep breaths, I collapsed onto a bench and buried my head in my hands, wishing there was some way to permanently erase the last couple of minutes from my mind. Juliette was my student. I could not, could not, could not have any kind of feelings for her.
What the fuck had I gotten myself into?
♠ ♠ ♠
Haa, I'm sure everyone's like, WTF who's Alex, since he's usually referred to as Wolff. And I'm dropping hints like crazy, but no, you are not supposed to know what happened to him last year. Yet.Comments = lots of love. Thanks to all my new subscribers. : )
IMPORTANT:
Okay, so today (June 26th) I'm leaving for vacation. I'll be traveling out of the country and may/may not always have access to a computer. I will do my best, of course, but if any time there's a lull in my updates, that will be why.
Alrighty. Thanks for reading. OH: and I'm potentially changing the title to 'Something' (as in the Beatles song). Just a heads up.
Also, if you guys could check out my new one shot and tell me what you think. It's called Mirrors.