9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYboW7atd7i
“Jeez, I really need to stop doing this.” I rub my nose but freeze as I look up to see ebony hair and his enticing blue eyes. Othello? In the hospital? Why is he here?
“Looking for me, bubbles?” All the words he’s said to me come slamming back into me and I debate lashing out at him. But I won’t. No, not when he is already so clearly in pain. There is so much pain in his eyes I don’t want to add to it. That doesn’t mean I have to put up with his bullshit though.
“Must be destiny, I can’t seem to stop running into you.” I smile at him, and his brows raise as he looks down at me.
“Or just the fact that you never watch where you’re going.” A scoff leaves my mouth and I step around him, heading in the direction of Rook. Othello follows me, for the first time, it is him coming after me and not the other way around.
“I saw you tonight.” my steps faltered slightly, did he like it? Why do I care? What if he thought I was bad? But he was tearing up, maybe he just thought my voice was so bad he felt like crying. I shake the thoughts away.
“Aha, it was you! I thought I imagined you were there.” A smirk appeared on his lips and I mentally smacked myself. That didn’t sound like.
“You, um, were really good.” He mutters and my mouth parts slightly. Othello being nice? Who would have guessed.
“A compliment, from big, bad, Othello? Should I be scared?” Othello scowls and nudges me with his shoulder slightly.
“Ha ha, so funny, brat.” He says sarcastically and I grin, as we reach Rook’s door. I debate telling him to leave, or something but Othello seems to be in a decent mood. What I really want is for him to open up, I want to know what goes on in that mind of his. What went so desperately wrong in his life that he has been reduced to this vessel of repressed trauma.
“Come on, I have someone I want you to meet.” Othello rubs the back of his neck but only nods once. I open the door to a familiar sight, Rook laying on the bed, tubes and whatnot keeping him alive.
“This is Rook, my adopted brother.” Emotions flash across his face, relife, pain, regret? A part of me is still mad at Othello for lashing out and always pushing me away. The other part, the psychologist part, tells me it's just a trauma response. I don’t know which one to listen to.
“Can he hear us?” I shrug, staring at my brother's peaceful face. He looks like he’s just sleeping, I like to think he is.
“I’d like to think so.” Othello nods and sits in one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs. I sat next to him, not sure why I invited him into such a personal aspect of my life. It’s unfair of me to ask him to open up, when I don’t either. Well, the real me at least. I, neither Arwen or anyone knows. Except Rook, he knows. He knows everything about me.
“I just wanted to say that I'm…'' Othello clears his throat and I suppress my urge to chuckle. I’m touched at the fact he is at least trying.
“Ugh, I'm…sorry. It’s just, uh, never been easy for me to make friends or to let people in.” He grinds out as if the words physically pain him. I’m sure they do.
“It’s alright, I understand. Just stop being such a jerk.” He rolls his eyes and yet some tension seems to leave his shoulders.
“It’s part of my charm.” He smirks at me and for a second I'm speechless. How dare God make this boy so beautiful? It’s unfair, really. I feel so meger in comparison.
“Charm? What charm? I think you mean repellent.” He lets out a snort and I look down at my brother, expecting him to tell us to stop bickering like children. He doesn’t though.
“How long has he been like this?” I try not to wince, try not to think about finding my brother's body in the bathroom, pills laying around him like candy.
“Three months tomorrow.” Othello lets out a breath and stays silent for a few seconds before patting me awkwardly on the shoulder. I raise my brow at him and he rubs the back of my neck.
“Sorry, I'm not very good at comforting people.” he sighs and I shrug, brushing some of Rook's hair out of his face.
“No worries, he’s gonna get better.” Othello stares at me for a moment, and I know what he’s going to say. What my parents even say, it’s been three months, he’s not coming back. I won’t lose this foolish hope, I can’t. I still have to have something to live for, and that is Rook.
“He’ll wake up.” I say more for myself than for his benefit. Othello’s mouth tightens as he stares at me, his eyes seem to try to dig through my layers and defenses.
“Why?” Why? Why is my brother in a coma? My heart twinges as I stare at Rook’s chest rise and fall. Should I tell him? No, no I won’t, but if he is trying to open up, then so should I.
“Drug overdose.” I say, through my teeth as I stand up. I’ll tell Rook everything that happened later, right now, i’m just tired. I don’t want to be here anymore, not when I keep getting reminded of what I lost. Othello’s eyes are wide with surprise and something like guilt.
“Well, I better get home! I’m starving.” I say brightly, and Othello glares at me, but he too stands up.
“You don’t have to be fake, you know?” I grit my teeth, but don’t let my smile fall. I can’t stop, if I stop then i’ll never put myself together again.
“Who are you to tell me that? Anyway, it just so happens that I like to be happy.” Othello rolls his eyes and opens the door, I look back at Rook.
“Sorry you had to hear that Rook, sometimes people are just jerks.” I say the words loud enough for Othello to hear and he snorts, but his lips pull up in a smirk.
“C’mon, let’s go.” I raise my brow, but follow him out the door. He’s different tonight, it feels as if he’s actually trying to be less of an asshole.
“Where are we going?” I ask as we get outside, my car a little behind Othellos. My mouth parts in surprise as Othello grabs my phone and puts his digits inside it.
“Getting food.” What the heck is going on? I stare at him speechless and take my phone back. Othello nudges his head in his car's direction and I half in a trance, walking towards it. I sent Arwen a quick text to see if he could bring my car home. He has a spare key because he’s done this before.
“Um…ok?” His car smells of smoke and pine trees. I cough slightly, wrinkling my nose. I hate the smell of smokers, it reminds me of Caden. Digging around my purse, I pull out a bottle of perfume, and spray a few puffs.
“Better.” Othello coughs and crinkles his nose as the scent of lavender and sunshine fills the car. He reaches over and plucks the bottle straight out of my hands, I watch with an open mouth as he tosses it out of the open window.
“You…you just threw my perfume out the window…” I trail off as Othello smugly smiles, glancing at me as we pull out of the parking lot. Self entitled jerk.
“It’s my car.” I let out a huff, rolling my eyes. And yet I can’t help but ask myself, why? Why is he doing any of this? Just a few days ago he was yelling at me
“Where are we going?” I ask, and he shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road. I let out a mild snort and crossed my arms. Fine then. Othello flicks on the radio and my brows raise as meat loaf, the band, pours out of the speakers. In all honesty, I wouldn’t have pegged him for an old rock band sort of guy. I was thinking something like depressing rap or something along those lines. Othello's lips quirk up as, paradise by the dashboard lights, echoes through the car. He takes one look at my wide eyes and smirks.
“It’s a good song.” He says, defending it and I nod, raising my hands in surrender.
“I full heartedly agree, but I wouldn’t have thought you’d listen to this type of stuff.” He just turns it up louder and taps the beat out on the steering wheel. I can’t keep myself from marveling at him.Will he ever show me who he really is? Not just the masks he wears but the real him? I am not going to get my heart broken by a troubled bad boy just because he is not willing to receive help. I roll down my window, to let the cold wind soothe my burning cheeks. Might as well go with the flow of things, besides, free food.
We pull into the drive through of McDonalds and he places a finger on his chin as he scans the menu. Instead of looking at the food, I find myself entranced by this boy beside me. What is going on inside his head? How does he hide everything so well? I’ll figure him out, I know it. He isn’t a pity project for me, I genuinely want to make him feel better.
“Bubbles?” Othello says, a smirk on his lips, as he waves a hand in front of my face. I blink and my face burns as I paste a signature smirk on my own lips.
“What do you want to eat?” I clear my throat, glancing at the menu. A part of me says I don’t need fast food but I shove that part out and order chicken nuggets and a frosty. The smallest flicker of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he orders. Our food comes just a few minutes later.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he pulls out of mcdonalds and he doesn’t say anything but sips his sprite. I roll my eyes, letting out a sigh but munch on my chicken nuggets. I’m not even sure if these are real chicken but right now I couldn’t care less.
“Thanks.” I grin at him, and he glances at me, his eyes glued to my face. He only shrugs and pulls into a rest stop, the night sky littered with stars and it has a beautiful view.
“This is the first place I found when I moved here.” I nod, and take a sip of my own sprite. Letting him talk. Othello bites his lip and lets out a sigh, glancing at me.
“I don’t hate you.” My brows raise and I look up at him, my eyes slightly wide. Othello just stares up through his sunroof, his face oddly peaceful
I smile at him, the moon the only witness to this sweet moment.
9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrCurhLm1jV
