How we meet

Chapter 27

Ideally, it would have ended with those words. A mutual understanding of loving each other, you falling back to sleep in the hospital and returning home to live a happy undisturbed life with N. It doesn't work like that. No amount of praying makes the ending so simple when there are so many variables. There are too many loose threads for you to be happy yet. You still have them tied to you. You still have so many things to finish so many things to see through.
The professors met with you the next morning. You were still on bed rest at the hospital. They were still going over the head trauma and the other injuries. You hated the hospital food though. It was so bland. No spice, no flavor. The Junipers were kind enough to not mention how you were cursing the food as they talked. You stabbed the food, poking and prodding at it as if it was poisoned.
"We studied the samples from the caves," the woman spoke. She sat quietly by your side with her father looking at the folder of notes. "We also looked at your notes and findings."
"The caves must have been carved by a pokemon!" her father interjected, throwing the photos you took down on the table. "These flowers and plants are all holding the caves together!"
Juniper ignored her father. "These plants don't glow anymore," he explained, holding a photo of the same plants. "We discovered that they react with the presence of Virizion themselves. How did you get out of the caves if they were already gone?" She asked you.
You couldn't answer. You had no idea how it happened. "I just walked through?" you had answered, not knowing the answer was hanging around your neck. "Have you asked Virizion?"
Juniper shook her head. "They left as soon as they could, we couldn't ask them many questions. We don't even know where they are now."
You nodded in understanding but you couldn't help them in any other way. So they left with many unanswered questions. You fiddled with the bell, but you didn't ring it. You ran your fingers over the cool silver, a gift N had explained. Virizion had given it to you before they left the caves. You were disappointed that they were gone. You couldn't blame them, you just wished you could have thanked them.
N sat beside you again. He brought you books and read them to you when you struggle to hold the pages apart. His soothing voice made you feel better and you watched him read quietly. You thanked him every time he stopped too. Venipede was happy to stay curled up on the corner of the bed. Occasionally you would run your fingers across his back.
"N?" you called to him before he left, "Have you checked up on my home?"
N apologized for not thinking of doing it before, promising to check up on it before he returned later. He walked to the house assuming that it would need just a quick cleaning. Yet the door was open, and the inside was trashed. He stood there shocked as your things were dug through, your cabinets open, and your things in the wrong places. He didn't return on time, he spent the day cleaning and putting your things away. One thing lwas missing the field guide you made as you grew up. He didn't know how to tell you.
You wondered why he was late. You looked out the window as the sun started to get low. You watched the clock when it felt like he wasn't coming. Your anxiety was bubbling and boiling over. When you tried to stand a nurse came running in berating you for it since you were still on bed rest for a few days. It made you feel weak. Your face and eyes burned but you said nothing and nodded, settling back down and waiting with anxious hands.
A man sat at his desk. His liepard sat quietly by his side. He fiddled with his pen. He flipped between pictures and his notes scribbling down text and notes. He was surrounded by fancy statues ornate tea sets in glass display cases. Paintings made by some of the world's greatest hung on the walls. Books lined the rooms, sorted by content and author. He wouldn't have anything less than perfection.
A knock rang through the room. Two solid knocks nothing more. When the man entered the room hanging his head apologizing for the delay he placed a book on the man's desk. A leather-bound book that was worn from time and weather laid there. Its pages were warped by watercolors and ink was slightly smudged. Papers were tucked in between pages. Some were torn and wrinkled, others were dogeared and pasted together.
The man ran his fingers over the book. He recognized it. His hard eyes flipped through the pages and he looked at the scribbled name inside the front cover.
"If lost, please return to Y/N." The man laughed.
His fingers gripped the pages, wrinkling and bending the corners. He sipped his whisky as he read through them. He noticed the small details. The watercolors were constantly changing quality. Rich bright colors but the pain had a bit of grain to it, but the next few would be clear of imperfections with a less saturated color but would easily blend and stack together.
He noticed how the handwriting changed the letters still holding familiar quirks like a looped e and the connected Ts. Yet they became neater and easier to read. Things were erased and rewritten in ink. The quality of the drawings themselves changed too. The better more recent being in cheaper paints.
He closed the book with a sigh, opening a drawer in his desk dropping it in haphazardly. The sound of papers crinkling as it landed atop pages and drawings of plants.