I'm Dancing on the Ceiling

When I woke up, a nurse was busy taking my blood pressure. I looked at him through my lashes. He was cute, but he was no Alex. I shifted and the nurse’s eyes shot to my face.

“Well, hello sunshine! Good to have you back with us,” he said cheerily. I just stared at him.

“How long was I out?” I asked, my voice cracked and scratchy.

“Three and half days,” he replied, scribbling on my chart.

“Is there anyone here?” I asked, gesturing to the empty chairs.

“There was a bunch of guys here when the paramedics first brought you in. But since we couldn’t tell any of them about your condition, or let them in to see you, they left. Except one guy. He’s still out there, I believe. Adorable. And he buys breakfast for the nurses every morning, when he comes back from showering and changing his clothes,” the nurse answered.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Tyler,” he said and headed towards the door. “I’ll let Doctor Dawkins know that you’re awake. He’ll be in to examine your injuries again now that you’re conscious.”

“Can that boy come in, now that I’m awake? I’d really love to see him, and he’s probably really worried, not knowing anything.”

“I’ll send him in,” Tyler replied and left. I smiled and sat up as best as I could, moving so my back was pressed firmly against the strangely soft pillows. They supported me perfectly. I catalogued my injuries quickly, poking and prodding at the spots where Gary had come in contact with me. I touched my nose but it was straight, for the most part. They must have cracked it back into place when I came in. The spot on my sides were sore, so I could assume there were huge bruises there. I noticed that my one cheek was swollen, as well as the skin around my eye. Black eye, probably.

The door opened and a tall, fair skinned man with salt and pepper hair in scrubs came in, stethoscope hanging stereotypically around his neck as he smiled at me.

“Clarissa, it’s good to see you awake,” he said. He stood by my bedside and picked up my chart.

“There’s nothing seriously wrong with me, right?” I asked.

“No. Not at all. You sustained minimal damage to your brain, which is excellent considering the bump you had. There was no internal bleeding, besides the very large bruises on your side. And we rebroke your nose, realigning it.”

My hand went up to my nose again, and Doctor Dawkins smiled at me.

“Would you mind if I did a quick examine? Just to make sure you’re 100%?” he asked.

“No, go right ahead.”

He began shortly after, having me breath as he pressed the cold stethoscope to my skin underneath my hospital gown. The exam seemed to last forever, but maybe that’s just because I wanted to see Alex so bad.

Once he was done, he scribbled on the chart and smiled at me again.

“I’m going to keep you overnight one last time, just to make sure nothing goes wrong and then after that, you can leave in the morning. How’s that sound?” he asked. I nodded and smiled back at him.

“Am I allowed any guests overnight? I hate being in hospitals alone,” I asked.

“I assume you’re referring to the nice young man who was in the waiting room since you came in. Yes, he can stay with you.”

Doctor Dawkins left and not even five minutes passed before Alex was in my room and hugging me. I couldn’t help but hug him back. I mean, it’s Alex Gaskarth, my Alex, and he’s hugging me.

“Thank god you’re alright. You can’t even imagined how worried I was, Clary. How are you? Are you alright?” he asked, releasing me. I chuckled and put my hand on the side of Alex’s face.

“Alex, I’m fine. I just have to stay overnight and if nothing goes wrong, I can go back to recording.”

“Is that safe?”

“Of course it is. Honestly, Alex, I’m not about to drop dead, you know. I just got a few bumps and bruises. I’m fine. Now come here,” I said. He came close enough for me to grab onto the front of his t-shirt and pull him onto the bed with me. It was a small bed and Alex had somehow managed to land on my lap. I suspect he might have done it on purpose. He moved carefully onto the mattress as I shoved off, making enough room for him. He took my hand in his, intertwining our fingers.

“Why did you stay while I was out?” I asked quietly.

“Isn’t it obvious, Clary?”

“Humor me,” I responded, slightly pouting my lips. He smiled.

“Alright. Just because you look so adorable with that pout,” he said, brushing hair out of my face. “I like you, a lot. I mean, like, a shitload of like is going on.”

“Elegant. Go on.”

“If it came down to playing a show with one of my favorite bands or just hanging out with you for the day, just like this… I’d definitely choose this. Because, there’s no place I’d rather be.”

I looked away from his big brown eyes to our entwined hands, my small hand in his large one. He shuffled closer and tipped my chin up towards him.

“What was your name before?” he asked curiously.

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because my name was horrible!”

“What was it?”

“Don’t laugh,” I said softly.

“I promise I won’t,” he responded.

I sighed and looked down as I muttered my birth name.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.”

“Catrin Anwen Swancott,” I said louder. And he laughed.

“I’m sorry,” he said between chuckles.

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh, you asshole,” I said, punching him with my free hand. He swallowed his chuckles and grinned at me. “My mom’s very Welsh.”

“It’s adorable, Clary.”

“Mmmmhm, sure.”

“It is. Absolutely adorable. Catrin,” he purred. It sounded so much better coming out of his mouth, with his subtle Baltimore accent than it did with my weird Iowa-Georgian accent.

“Shhhh, that’s not my name anymore.”

“Clary,” he said. He released my hand and slid it to my waist. I hummed and he pressed his lips against mine, causing my breath to catch. My heartbeat began to race as Alex moved me gently onto my back and hovered over me, holding himself up on his hands. I let my hands wander up and down Alex’s back, eventually slipping below his grey shirt. He let out a low groan before breaking the kiss.

“Okay, well,” he sighed and then chuckled.

“What?”

“You, Clarissa Blank Bowen, are a fantastic kisser.”

“Josephine Kendall,” I muttered.

“Clarissa Josephine Kendall Bowen? Really? That’s the name you chose?”

“Yes, well, no. My grandmother on my mom side’s name was Josephine Bowen, and my dad’s sister and my aunt who died when I was 7, her name was Clarissa Kendall… So I took their names and shoved them together,” I explained.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered. My heart rate had returned to normal as Alex lay beside me, resting one hand on my stomach and the other stroked my hair.

“I’m gonna sound so crazy when I say this, but I’m tired.”

“Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. Always will be.”