Things That Fall (5SOS Fanfic)

Chapter 25

Kelsea's POV

After the nurse removed the IV from my arm, I tugged my hoodie sleeve over my arm, and crossed my arms, my legs dangling off the side of the hospital bed. I'm so glad that I'm leaving this place. The nurse took my hand and steadied me once I was standing. Having a concussion didn't help in improving my clumsiness one bit. Once I was past the front desk, I walked straight out of the hospital, the brisk air falling around my face. It was such a refreshing feeling to be outside; I didn't want to go home just yet.

Now that I'm more familiar with the town, I knew exactly where I wanted to go. Heading forward, I passed a park I'd never noticed before; there were children kicking raked up piles of orange, red, and yellow leaves, elderly couples walking alongside the small duck pond, and a runner stretching against one of the park benches, but only one thing caught my eye; a few benches down from the one where the runner was stretching, I noticed a man in leather jacket and black ripped jeans sitting on the bench, his back to me; the resemblance of hair color, clothes, and posture was amazingly similar to Michael's. The need to know if it was Michael or not quickened my pace. After passing multiple trees that hid the sight of the man, I finally got to a clearing. Looking at the benches, I saw the runner, but when I looked a few benches down, the man was gone. I blinked a few times to make sure that it wasn't just a silly mind trick, but the man really wasn't there. Damn, I guess the doctor was right about possibly having hallucinations with a minor concussion.

Leaving the park, I continued to head straight, passing all the locally owned shops in the center of town. Once I made it past the floral shop on the corner, I saw the unique red and brown roof of the school about a half mile down the road. Briskly walking, I was now at the head of the school, heading towards the back football field.

Once I maneuvered myself in through the secret entrance of the stadium and walked up to the top of the bleachers, I was met with a falling sun. My hands undulated over the bumps on the railing of the fence at the top, back and forth, back and forth. Looking out toward the sunset, I couldn't help, but feel reminiscent of homecoming; it had only been five days since then. Still watching the sunset, I sat down at the top step; the steel seat could on my thighs. My hand grabbed for the chain link fence as I felt myself wobbling backward; the concussion might have been minor, but I still got all the terrible symptoms. I could feel my eyes start to get heavy.

Deciding that I was stable enough to balance myself without falling, I let go of the fence and tilted my head downward at the ground; I saw confetti and bits of glitter cluttered in a heap at the spot where Michael told me about his sister. All I could think about was Michael.

Looking down at the confetti and glitter, I felt a longing to just stand in that spot, to just be. But, as I stood up to go near it, I became dizzy, the fence acting as my crutch again. Going down on my knees at the spot, I ran my fingers through the spare pieces of confetti and glitter, the glitter sticking to my fingers. Without even thinking, I maneuvered myself so that I was lying on my side, my legs sticking out into the walking aisle, everything else completely hidden by bleacher chairs. My eyes were extremely heavy at this point. I don't even remember closing my eyes, but all I could see was Michael.

.........................................................

God, I'm such an idiot.

Why did I even think of saying that to Michael when I knew it would hurt him?! I shook my head as I ran a hand through my hair, tugging on it aggressively as I continued to become angrier. When I crushed my eyes shut, all I saw was the despair and hurt in his eyes after I said those devastating words.

After prying my eyes open, I rubbed them as if that would help get the image out of my mind. Dropping my fists, I looked down at my bedside table, grabbed my alarm clock, and flung it to the opposite side of the room; not even caring about the mess I was about to make. One after another, all the objects from my bedside table were thrown in different directions, broken bits and pieces scattered everywhere. Before I knew what I was doing, my fist connected with the lamp on my dresser, and then my foot once it collided with the ground; the sparks from the shattered light bulb illuminating my room for a split second before fizzling out.