Spotlight |h.s|

Eighty Seven

Harry Styles

Aubrey is actually taking care of herself today.

When she woke up and was informed of the fact that her moms are here and waiting for her outside, she practically jumped out of the hospital bed and made a break for the bathroom. She waved me off when I offered to help her with anything, leaving me anxiously overthinking about the moving to Washington idea.

What if she doesn't want to because of her moms being here? I know it's only about a two hour flight, but I still don't want to make her feel forced to accept my offer. It would be much safer there, though. Ian was the tech-savvy one of he and Thomas's pair, and with him gone, tracking Aubrey and I will become dependent on the paps once again.

I want to make sure she knows she doesn't have to say yes, but still, I'm going to bring it up to her soon.

When she got out of her cramped hospital bed, she noticed her necklace being back in its usual place, her face softening a bit before she shut the bathroom door and showered. She then brushed her teeth and had one of the nurses help her with applying her different ointments and bandages to her injuries, not allowing me or anyone else to see her scarred stomach uncovered.

I could tell that the shower took a lot out of her, though. The second she got out and thanked the nurse for helping her, she looked at me with her teary eyes and quickly made her way back to me. The second she got close enough, she clung her body to mine again. She sniffled a couple of times into the hug, breaking my heart over and over again with each pained sound as she attempted to recover from seeing herself in that way.

I know exactly why she struggles with showers and seeing herself in general, so I don't ask her to explain it to me. I know the reminders seeing her own body now gives her of her traumas, and I know that things like that are going to take time for her to come to terms with. I hug her and make sure she's as okay as she can be, and I remind her that she can always talk to me about it if she wants to. She doesn't, though. Not yet, and that's okay.

We remain in our standing position for a couple of minutes, one of my hands in her wet hair as I'm as careful as possible with her given the fact that she's bandaged up like a mummy at this point. Her stomach, shoulder, and hip all have non-adhesive white bandages and different antibiotic creams on them.

Still, her arms find their way around my neck to pull me as close to her as possible, tightening her grip on me like she needs the touch to survive. I don't think she really knows what to do with herself in this foreign situation, so she's holding onto what she's familiar with for dear life.

She pulls back after a bit, though, sighing and revealing the wetness of her cheeks after attempting to hide it for as long as possible. I don't ask questions, simply bringing my hands to dry her cheeks with the pads of my thumbs.

"Are you—"

"I'm okay," she interjects with a nod before I can outwardly ask, "Well, I'm not going to break down and rip my hair out again, so that counts as okay, right?"

"What if I told you that after we say hi to everyone, I have some things for you?" I question, "Would that make you even farther from a breakdown? Even more okay?"

I asked her moms to grab her birthday presents when they went to the loft to feed and check on Charlie, check on the place, and get Aubrey's birth control pills from the medicine cabinet. I've been talking to them a good amount since Aubrey went missing to begin with, so I felt comfortable asking.

They slipped in here while she was in the shower and hid the gifts beneath her hospital bed, the presents being out of sight right now until the time when I decide to give them to her. I'm hoping it makes her feel better somehow. At least for a moment after everything.