Project V (Clementine X Male Reader Book 4)

Forever

You tell them everything about what happened. About V, Alice, Marina, that V won't be letting anyone else in except for the four of you that were sent in through this facility. As expected, Emma told you how much the staff at the facility would hate that. She also said how interested they're going to be. They'd already suspected that it had happened, but they had no idea to what degree. Now they'll have some sort of idea.

Now you're sitting in the corner of Clementine's room. She's resting, so the lights are out. The room is illuminated only by the light of the monitors at her bedside. You listen to the steady beat of her heart and the drone of machines there to keep her alive if suddenly her body decides to give up while she sleeps. You were hooked to similar things while recovering. You hated how hard it made it to sleep.

Honestly, you think it's a bad idea, being in here. You don't believe you're the first thing she wants to see when she wakes up.

Brooklyn: Hey. Um...

She's nervous.

Brooklyn: I love you.

She winces like you're going to tell her she's weird and run away.

The first time she told you she loved you. How old were you? Thirteen maybe?

Your brain is still pushing memories into the front of your mind. You assume your nights will be filled with others like this one until one day they find their place within your head again.

Clem: Hello?

You open your eyes and lift your head. The head of her bed is elevated, so she nearly sleeps in a sitting position.

Clem: Who are you?

She can't see you.

You: It's me.

Clem: Oh.

She looks away.

You: Do you, uh... Want to go for a walk or something?

Clem: I can't walk.

Her voice is still raspy.

You: I meant... I would get your wheelchair or something. We can get some fresh air in the courtyard.

Clem: I don't know.

You: The sun is going down soon. It's stunning from there.

She grunts.

You: Please. We need to talk, and I don't really want to do it in here.

She sighs and turns to look at you.

Clem: Fine.

You: Yes! You're going to love it.

She's not amused by you trying to lighten the mood. You walk over and grab her folded-up wheelchair from its spot against the wall and open it up.

You: I have to help you take all this stuff off, don't I?

Clem: Mhm.

You unhook all the machines from her: take the pads that measure her heartbeat off her torso, the needles out of her arms, the tiny tube for her breathing wrapped around her head.

Clem: Shirt.

You: Huh?

Clem: I need my shirt.

You: Oh, right.

You snort.

You: Of course. Can't have you going out there half-naked.