Bird Box (Oc x reader)

Chapter 4

"So we can't do anything but wait here until we all go crazy like him?"
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Ethan listens intently to him as he talks, standing with crossed arms and his eyebrows in a scowl.

"Charlie, did you learn all that working at a supermarket?" Lucy asks him.

"No, I've been studying it for years."

"In college?"

"Not college per se, but.. I mean, the internet. That's where you get all your information from. I'm working on a novel, guys." Charlie says and they groan.

Turning to you, Ethan finds the couch empty and immediately start looking around, leaving the others in the room.

"So we can't do anything but wait here until we all go crazy like him?" Felix asks.

"The army is bound to get this under control." Cheryl, the older woman says. "We just have to wait."

...

"Hey, hey." Ethan says when he sees you walking, holding yourself up on drawer staring down at your phone and you look up at him. "Why don't we sit back down?" He then says as he reaches you and try to take a hold of your arm to help you, but you shake your head and wave with your phone to usher him away.

"No. I'm fine. I'm just, I'm just trying to make a call." You say and he nods.

"Understood. I just think that you should-"

"I'm okay. I'm fine." You say looking down at your phone in your free hand while pushing him slightly with your elbow.

"I don't agree with you, but fine.." He says and raises his hands taking a step back. "The phones aren't working right now." He tells you while you put the phone to your ear.

It just gets to the voicemail again and you sigh, about to dial the number again.

"Listen, are you in any pain?"

"Uh, no." You say glancing up at him and he hums unconvinced.

"I think you have a concussion." He tells you. "So please just sit down and you can keep trying to call from there." He says gesturing to this room's couch.

It actually looks very comfortable as you stare at it, then you make a move to go to it but stumble and he has to catch you before you hit the ground.

"Wow! Okay, okay. I got you." He says and you clutch to him while he lifts you up and carries you to the couch.

He sits you down but you don't let him go, he looks down at your hands clutching his shirt and then up at your face, red and watery eyes looking down at your hands too. He puts his hand over yours to give comfort and you close your eyes.

"We were just driving." You whisper, your voice shaking. "And then she saw something. I didn't see what it was, but then she got this look on her face." You say sniffing and leaning your head up to try and keep the tears at bay.

You let out a shake exhale and feel his other hand stroking the side of your thigh, not in an uncomfortable way just to comfort and to let you know it's okay and that he's there listening. You can't stop the tears falling, and you take one hand up to cover your nose as you sniffle.

"It's like, it was like she got.. She got so sad.. And Jess does not get sad." You say shaking your finger. "No. Never sad.. She stepped out of the car and walked onto the road.. and she's not suicidal. She would never do that.. But it was.. And then that woman, that woman, she came to me, and then she started talking to her mom and I.."

"That woman was my wife." You then hear and both of you turn to see Douglas. "Her name was Lydia."

"Lydia." You mumble to yourself. Ethan squeezes your hand and stand up moving toward him.

"And she wasn't talking to her mother. Her mother's been dead for ten years." He tells you and Ethan steps up to him, Douglas still stare angrily past him at you.

He eventually gets Douglas to leave and heads back to you. You had stood back up breathing heavily as feel like you're going to have a panic attack, when suddenly someone wraps their strong protective arms around you and holds you. Stroking your back until you calm down.

...

Ethan went to get the med kit and came back to you still on the couch, he sighs in relief. Putting down the supplies at the table and taking the cloth, he sits on a stool in front of you. You feel a pinch on your arm and let out a soft hiss in surprise and open your eyes, looking at him in question.

"I'm sorry, but, don't sleep. I'm pretty sure you have a concussion. So I need you to stay awake for me, just in case, can you do that?" He says and you hesitantly nod, feeling very tired.

"Are you a doctor or something?" You ask him, your voice coming out slightly husky from how tired you feel.

"I was a medic in the army." He tells you and you hum and nod, but immediately groan and try clutch your head from the movement.

Ethan stops your hand from touching your open wound again to make sure it doesn't get infected.

"I'm gonna clean it and bandage you up, then you're gonna need stitches at the hospital." He tells you, still feeling hopeful someone might come for you and he can get you to a hospital. Though the more he thinks about it the less hopeful he gets. You swallow nervously at the thought of going to a hospital.

"Can't you just do it?" You ask him.

"What do you mean?"

"Can you stitch?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Can't you just do it then?" You interrupt him.

"It would be better to let a nurse do it."

"I'll do it myself then." You say and reach for the med kit.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay, hold up." He stops you.

"I've done it before, I know how, I just need a mirror." You say and start to look around for one, but move your head slowly this time to not get even more dizzy than you already are.

"You've stitched yourself up before?" He frowns curiously and you look back at him with a slight nod. "Why? You couldn't get to a hospital or something?"

You just look at him for a moment and then start looking around for a mirror again, then go to stand up while reaching for the kit. But he stops you and makes you sit back down on the couch.

"Okay, okay. I'll do it." He says, though the look he gives you is a curious one. But you also see him understanding that you don't want to talk about it, which you're grateful for. You didn't like hospitals and it wasn't something you loved talking about, not that you really liked talking about anything, you didn't mind listening though.

"We probably won't get to a hospital anytime soon anyway when I think about it. I'm just worried it won't be as nicely done as an actual nurse would have done it." He tells you.

"I don't care about the scar.. I've got plenty." You mumble the last part and then to ignore his curious gaze you pull your phone up again, just to distract yourself.

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