Head Down

Chapter 22

NATE'S POV

I wake up with a foggy haze clouding my mind. I ache almost everywhere, though its not particularly painful, and in my morning grogginess I can't recall doing anything to make me sore. After a few minutes more of catching my mom up Laura had appeared at the top of the stairs with a satisfied look -she had changed my mate's bandages in record time. Of course I had immediately fled to the infirmary, and after a good amount of time started to become tired. I had fought falling asleep as long as I could, in fact I don't even remember losing consciousness, and here I am. I was drugged and laid to rest in the same bed I'm in now, so it isn't the mattress.

All of this thinking is in the back of my mind though. My fore thoughts immediately went to Katie when I arose milliseconds ago, and remain there now. I open my eyes now and sit up swiftly, if not uncomfortably due to the soreness. In the bed to my right lays my mate, and after a thorough once over I note her condition seems much better. Her skin tone is even healthier looking than when I first met her, and the bruising on her face and left arm has dulled to a sickly yellow in contrast with the black stitches   -despite the lack of a blood bag beside her and the minimal liquid in the morphine drip.

Her expression displays a mix of discomfort -which has me off the bed and by her side in a second- and struggle. It's possible she's having a nightmare, but its also possible I'm being paranoid. Though seeing as how my reason to live is sedated in a hospital bed, I have a more than ample excuse. She presses her eyes tighter together then, but also squeezes my right hand -which I had already grabbed without thought- meaning she isn't frozen. Not too panicked yet.

Even so, my stomach drops. Why can't she just be awake? The answer to my question is as practical as it is clear: She would be worse off awake, at least until her dreams return. I wonder what's in her nightmares that distresses her so.....but once again that's a stupid question. What ELSE is going to be scaring her? Chucky?

"What are you thinking so hard about?" asks an angelic voice.

Once again, my mate catches me off guard with her consciousness. My eyes snap back into focus from the faraway thinking to the beautiful reality of right now, and see her through a new perspective. Yes, she looks healthier, but even more prominent is the hope in her expression. She looks in a lighter mood than I have ever seen her, except for maybe the moment on Tuesday evening when we were entering Antonio's - though it's difficult to believe that the silly, playful moment was even this month, let alone this week. The positivity is displayed in the upward tilt of her lips and the slight glint in her eyes, along with the very healthy looking flush in her cheeks and the wild mass of her hair. The sight would have been perfect if not for the surely painful stitches in the side of her face, but as long as she doesn't have any hint of discomfort I will be content to savor the amazing view in front of me.

Without thinking, I bring my hand to the side of her face and run my hand over the pink in her cheeks, enjoying the warmth in the cold white infirmary. When I realize I may have overstepped -there's always the chance she regrets her morphine addled decisions- she comforts me by leaning ever so slightly into my hand.

KATIE'S POV

When I manage to free myself of the morphine's forceful shroud, the first thing I see is Nate. His black hair is mussy in an incredibly attractive way that can be accurately describe as 'just so', while his bright green eyes look strained. Thankfully, the bruise-like circles underneath them are now far less  prominent, leading me to believe he actually got some rest. Good. I can't stand it when people baby me, so being intensely worried over is much worse. There's no reason anyway, they didn't have to give me meds and I definitely don't need hospitalizing now. As soon as I speak, though, his expression considerably lightens, making me squirm and sigh at the same time.