The Foster Kid (Part 9) (A Foster The People Fan Fiction)

Memories

I didn't realize that this chapter would be long. Oops. :p

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I believe that I just got over one of the toughest thing that’s happened in my life, maybe so far. Some things can change the way you look at the world. All I see now is, I guess, a balance of pains and perks. Of course, you can’t run from those two things. You would eventually bump in to them at some point. That’s what I’ve been dealing with. Day by day, I started to move on from the worst month of my life. Little by little, I was rising up and up on my feet. What still reminds me of that accident was Ryan’s cast and apparently, his stitches too. On the bright side, the guys and him made up. Everyone made up and the world was peaceful again. Mark told me so. I guess the bad thing is over for now.

            Ryan still has to wear a cast for his broken wrist, but the stitches on his cheek are fading. His cast covers from his palms until below the elbow. This hasn’t leaked out of our comfort zone and we were hoping that it won’t, ever. By now, his cast was full of my doodles. “I could look at these all day and it could remind me of you.” Cheeky Ryan would say. I drew the city skyline of London around the perimeter on the bottom part so Andy would always be within him. Ha-ha, that sucked. I had to lock myself in along with Ryan, the guys, and AJ so things could be straightened out. AJ and I both agreed that all of them are guilty, including Isom because if his guys go down then so will he. It took a while for them to finally shake hands in peace, but it’s done. It’s a little bit easy when I threatened them that Andy’s going to get involved. They’re scared of him and I don’t really know why. Ryan’s cast and stitches helped me in scaring them. So they got along by helping me look for an explanation about what had happened to Ryan.

            The big day isn’t counted by weeks or days anymore, it’s counted by hours now. In less than twelve hours, I would be dragged in to a room and be smothered by make up. I’ve never liked being smothered by that much make up  because it feels uncomfortable. My hands wouldn’t sit still and I know that I’ll smudge them eventually. In less than twelve hours, I would be wriggling on a white dress. In less than twelve hours, I am going to be a Harrison.

            All those thoughts were keeping me wide awake at night. I was so nervous that I could jump out of the window right now. I don’t get how Ryan could sleep it off. He sleeps like a hibernating bear sometimes. I’ve tried irritating him for a few times, but he didn’t budge. I prodded with his good cheek, fumbled with his lips, pressed his forehead, pinched his chin, and ruffled with his hair. I felt like playing with a mannequin. I must admit, it’s sometimes fun to bother him like this. I was itching to go get a marker and draw all over his face, but I decided to have mercy on him for this particular day. Ryan finally moaned out a sound, “You can’t sleep?”

            I covered his face, “Go back to sleep, doc.”

            He took my hand and removed it from his face with his eyes remaining close, “Try to sleep.”

            I shifted a little, “Less than twelve hours.”

            “I know.” He smiled, still with eyes closed. “My lady needs her beauty sleep, doesn’t she?”

“But I can’t sleep.”

            “I’d sleep if I were you.”

            “But-”

            “Hush.” He blindly placed his hand over my face and shut me up, “Just close your eyes and your brain will take over.”