The Bad Boy's Sweetheart ✓

09.Him

"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger."
-Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights

As Evangeline was rolled on a stretcher to the hospital room, the memories of losing my mother flooded back, and I couldn't help but feel the agony all over again. She had a way of making me reveal my emotions, and I was tired of fighting the sorrow. Waiting outside while the nurses did their job was torture. I couldn't even get comfortable on the hard rock chairs, so I paced back and forth.

An old woman nearby asked if Evangeline was my girlfriend, and I felt a twinge of irritation. I didn't want to care about her, but I found myself here, waiting for her to get better. We were never going to be together because our lives were so different. Hers was full of promise while mine was shattered. Our incompatibility was like a beautiful contrast.

"She's not my girlfriend," I corrected the old woman. "But she's going to be alright." My voice was strained, and I couldn't shake the feeling of unease. I didn't want to care about Evangeline, but it seemed like I couldn't help it.

The woman's perceptive blue eyes caught the hidden truth behind my words, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder before returning to her wheelchair. As she adjusted herself, I couldn't help but feel a sense of envy towards her ease of mobility.

"Don't strain yourself in the dark, accept the light." she said as she navigated her automatic wheelchair to the room adjacent to Evangeline's. Her words lingered in my mind, and for a moment, I wondered what she meant by "accepting the light."

As I stood there, watching the woman disappear into the room, I realized that I had been drowning in darkness for far too long. I had become so accustomed to the weight of my past and the pain that came with it that I couldn't see any light. I felt trapped and powerless, unable to escape the darkness that consumed me.

"Mom, please stay with me!" I cried as I held onto her hand, running with her as they rolled her stretcher to the emergency room.

"Baby, be good to yourself, okay?" mom sobbed as her hand pulled away and the white doors closed as I collapsed on the ground.

"How can I be good to myself if you aren't here?" I whispered, staring at the closed doors that represented what I had become.

I rushed into the men's bathroom and locked myself inside the stall, the tears that I had been holding back finally bursting forth in a torrent. The pain that had become all too familiar washed over me, numbing my body as I sobbed quietly. I didn't want anyone to see me so weak, for fear that they would use it against me, so I let it all out within the cubicle's confines.

The remnants of my trauma continued to claw at my skin, refusing to let go. I huddled on the floor, my arms wrapped tightly around my knees as my red-rimmed eyes stared at the same colour, always white. White was supposed to be the colour of purity, but for me, it was the colour of death and destruction. It was the colour that I associated with watching my mother die in agony and running with Evangeline to the same damn white hospital room.

I wiped away the tears and unlocked the bathroom stall, only to be greeted by a sight that left me speechless and concerned. The blonde-haired girl in front of me was dressed in a hospital gown and had unattached needles in her left hand. She was in no condition to walk.

"I escaped the clingy nurses," she said, her emerald eyes sparkling and her pale skin glowing. "It was the first time I've ever done anything rebellious in my life, and it felt good."

Her words were serious, but her tone was light. Despite her condition, she seemed determined and free-spirited. I couldn't help but laugh, and she joined in. We were caught in a moment of hysterical laughter, as if our troubles would disappear in that moment.

We stood there, lost in each other's gaze. I felt powerless, unable to escape her piercing stare. It was as if she could see right through me, past the hardened exterior I had built up over the years. I couldn't forget the way she had looked at me when we were running together. Her eyes had shone with a raw, unbridled hope that had taken my breath away. It was impossible, but in that moment, I had sworn that I had caught it, and I kept that memory as a precious treasure in my mind.

"Don't cry." She whispered, her voice soft and soothing as she wiped a tear from my eye. I could feel her getting closer to me, and my heart started pounding in my chest. She was so beautiful, even in that ugly hospital gown. I was hopelessly infatuated with her, but I knew it could never be. Our worlds were too different, and I couldn't bear to crush her dreams with my own hopeless longing.

"This isn't about you, Evangeline. It's about me," I said firmly, my voice devoid of any emotions. "I'm not good for you, and you deserve someone better."

Her eyes widened, and I could see the hurt in them. "What are you talking about? You're amazing, and I know you've been through a lot, but we can get through it together."

I shook my head. "No, we can't. I'm not the type of guy who can give you the life you deserve. I can't even take care of myself, let alone someone else."

"But I don't need someone to take care of me. I just want you." She pleaded.

I took a step back, putting some distance between us. "I'm sorry, Evangeline. I can't give you what you want, and I won't drag you down with me. It's better if we just stay away from each other."

"Why?" She whispered out her question. The heavy bags under her eyes accentuated her exhaustion.

"Because you're a coward, you like to hide behind your pathetic piano and act like you're a show-off." I snapped in my fake masquerade. She flinched, as if not believing what I just told her.

With that, I turned around and walked away, leaving her standing there, tears streaming down her face. It was for the best, I told myself. It was better for her to hate me than to be with someone like me.

"Ryson." Her voice echoed in my head as I slammed the bathroom door shut and made my way towards the entrance, my hands clenched into fists, my body shaking with a mixture of pain and anger.

As I walked, I felt like a walking disaster, a mess of emotions and turmoil that threatened to consume me. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, memories and regrets, and I couldn't find any peace or solace.

The sound of her voice only made things worse. It was a reminder of everything I had lost, everything I had screwed up, and I didn't want to face it. I didn't want to face her.

But deep down, I knew I couldn't avoid her forever. I had to face the consequences of my actions, no matter how painful they might be. And maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to make things right.