I roll over and wince at the pain in my ribs and face, my left eye isn’t as swollen as it was yesterday, but the cut on my lip keeps opening with each minor movement. I sit up with a groan, my eyes protesting the afternoon sun as it dips low enough to blind me from my window.
The pounding stops and I almost sink back down into my pit of sorrow when his voice booms through the gap in the door.
“Open the door Ruella,”
I rub my temples as I fight to stay silent. I want to go to him and open the door, I want to breathe him in and never let him go, but how would I explain this.
“I know you are in there; I spoke to your lecturers, and they said you are sick,” What happened to confidentiality. “Corden said you haven’t left your room,” He sounds agitated. “Why aren’t you replying to my texts?” That one comes out a little quieter. I wanted to reply, but I could only see out of one eye and each time I went to pick up my phone my ribs protested. I have barely been awake today other than sending an email to the academy to explain my“sickness”.
I still stay silent.
I listen as a puff of air leaves his mouth.
“Ruella, if you don’t answer and open the door, I am going to kick it in,” My eyes widen, he wouldn’t really.
“Three,”
I stay.
“Two,”
I shift nervously. The door is solid enough to hold him, isn’t it?
“One,”
I jump up, ignoring the pain in my body. “Wait,” I shout. “Hold on you psycho,”
“Guess we are a match made in heaven then. Open the door,”
“I’m sick Asher. I don’t want to pass it onto you,”
“I don’t care,”
“You have a game coming up, the team needs you,”
“No, you need me,” my shoulders sag, the energy drains from my body, and I don’t think I have fight left in me anymore. I am bone tired. “Open the door baby,”
I take a deep breath and reach for the handle. Slowly I let the door open a little, but not enough to see me.
“Asher, I am honestly okay, I can look after myself,”
“I know you can, I just want to be with you while you do it,” I smile. For someone so prickly, he is a softy at heart.
I drop my hand away from the door and take a few steps back.
The door opens and, in the frame, stands a man that has consumed my every waking thought. He has to duck slightly as he passes into my room, his hands holding a white plastic bag from the dining room.
He smiles at first, then comes the confusion, shock and then fury. He throws the plastic bag to the side table and drops his backpack to the floor before rushing towards me and grabbing my face gently.
“What the fuck happened to you?” his voice comes out soft, but it feels like he shouts with the intent behind it. His nose crunched up in barely contained rage.
I open my mouth to speak but he interrupts. “And don’t fucking tell me youfellagain,”
My eyes fill with tears, and I don’t think I can keep it in anymore. I keep fighting to hold it all together, trying to fake it to feel put together. But when Asher holds me, when he’s here begging for more than scraps of my life, I want to give it to him. He deserves that.
His gaze flits between mine, searching in desperation. Trying to fix everything like he does for his family.
I lick my corner of my mouth where a tear has escaped and pooled.
