Finding the Pure Note

Still Broken

Fletcher lay curled up like a cat around my legs, fingers stroking my ankles, dancing along them. He had got up to let me slip my gown back on, and Chelsa gave me some privacy. The chilly hospital air isn't so teeth-chattering now. As soon as I crashed back down on the bed, wincing, a little nauseous still, Fletcher climbed back on me, wrapping himself around me like I was some ginormous teddy bear. I can't complain. He yawned every few seconds, eyes heavy; he'd spent most of the night waiting up on me, too eager to just wait till morning to visit like normal people. I'm glad he's not normal.

Chelsea drags a chair over and plumps down, resting her chin in her hand, letting out a long sigh.

"Tough day, huh?" I joke. 

She raises her eyelids, and then sighs again, lifting her legs up against her chest. "The worst."

"Do you think we—"

"Yes. We're gonna talk about it; save your breath. You know I keep my private shit... private. My pain... and a mask. No one else needs to feel sorry for me. I let people in when I can't stomach this shit on my own. That's okay. We can't always be superhuman. I love you boys, but I told myself Jaz was the only one I needed to talk to. Well, that's not gonna cut it. And it's not fair. There've been enough secrets in this group and the only way we move forward is by being honest."

I nod and look over at Fletcher. He's stopped massaging my ankles and has sat up a little, looking at Chelsea attentively.

She huffs. "Just prep your asses for a real truth bomb here. Sometimes real life is scary and it feels so hopeless, but who is prepared to deal with shit like this? No one would believe it. It just doesn't happen to you, your friends. It... But the truth is very, very frightening." 

"I've got nowhere else to be," I retort. "And my ass is firmly prepped. Uh... I mean planted. That sounds weird..."

Chelsea can't hold it in and she breaks into a fit of giggles, a high pitched whistle coming from her nose. I smile, glad my tendency to say the wrong thing didn't inflict pain this time—it's the kind of fuckup that takes people off guard and makes them lose themselves in unfiltered snorts and giggles. When she has regained her composure, a melancholic veil casts itself over her face, most noticeably in her curious brown eyes.

"Noel..." she starts, her voice robotic. "He, uh... He comes in, all arrogance and big talk. You can smell the alcohol on his breath from my room. Mum didn't say anything. She knows its pointless. It's only when..." Her voice cracks, and she begins to sob quietly. "When he gets... gets violent that she takes a stand. I get that side of me from mum..."

I tilt my head, hating feeling so useless. I should have been there for her. I should have... Shit. I was never there, and even when I came back into their lives, I was a long ways off of earning her trust. That she's telling me now is an admittance into her heart I definitely do not deserve.

Fletcher is quiet more often than not, but he doesn't let the silence hold for much longer, the beautiful bastard who could fix any situation, any asshole... basically me.

"Shit, Chelsea. I wish you could have told us this. I wish you didn't have to feel so afraid, but I get it. I don't hold it against you. I'm so sorry for what you have to go through, and I know it isn't much, but you should know I'm... we're here for you now."

Fletch glances up at me and I drop my chin to my chest, heart picking up the beat.

"Uh... Y—like yeah," I stammer. "Yes, now—here... We're—I'll do better. I w—"

"You can stop now, Clay," she says, with a wistful smirk. "I can see you slowly self-imploding."

I blush. "I... It's so wrong, Chels. Like, I knew it was bad. You said enough, and I had my suspicions, but... I didn't want to say anything. But if he's been hitting you... your mum... That's something dif—"