echo // hemmings [completed]

sixteen | agendas

—September 12th—

Keyboards tapping, heels clicking and clacking across the floor, the door opening and shutting, and nurses and doctors coming in everyday to ask questions that he knew by heart. This was his life now. A bitter box where he laid in a bed and had to be assisted in everything he did. People fed him, helped him whenever he moved, and even if he couldn't see. He knew that these people looked at him with pity.

And it hurt him, because what Luke learned here more than anything,  was that pity fucking hurt. It was like a weight pushing him down the hole he already dug for himself. Not only was he blind, but he was looked down on by everyone around him. He had hit rock bottom. Riley never came to see him, and everything he loved was literally out of sight for him. 

Everyday he would wonder more where Riley was. Dead? It was a joke to him. Luke solely believed that Riley was here, on this planet, breathing, living; it was the only thing getting him through. He knew she hasn't come to visit, and he blamed it on how ashamed she would feel to see him like this, completely and utterly helpless.

The door slid open, interrupting his thoughts. Loud footsteps made their way to him, emitting a lonely and distant sound.

"Hey Luke," Ashton greeted him. And that was the cue for Luke to once again wear the charming smile he used fool his friends. He didn't like wearing it, it was stiff and tight on his face. But it did what it had to, even if he didn't know that he wasn't fooling anyone. Not Ashton, not Calum, and not Michael.

But Ashton went along with it and smiled with Luke, even if he couldn't see it. And asked him about his day and they slowly emerged themselves into a comfortable, casual talk.

And as the two friends chatted, another visitor was entering the hospital. She was nervous and her hands trembled, but she spoke confidently when asking for the room number. She walked with hesitation as she made her way there. And just as she was nearing the door to Luke's room, a hand pulled her by the wrist and forced her to spin around.

"What the fuck are you doing here Rowan?!" Michael cursed. 

"I wanted to see the him." The short haired girl didn't have that answer prepared, but what she said to Michael slipped so smoothly off her tongue it seemed natural.

"Why?" He asked with little patience.

"I've been thinking... About your offer."

"Why Rowan? I thought you hated the idea. You rejected the idea upfront with little thought."

"I do hate it, it freaks me out," she said with conviction. "But I need to know more. I need to know who he is." Her eyes glazed over with a sense of loneliness. "What makes him love her, and why he can't let her go?"

Michael shook his head and sighed. He could tell he wouldn't get anywhere by arguing with her. "Fine," Michael told her, releasing her wrist.

"He's in there," Michael said pointing at Luke through the glass window in the hospital room. "And there's Ashton." The two blondes were still talking, not even knowing they had two spectators.

"Do you want to talk to him?" Michael asked.

Rowan scoffed. "Do you think I can?"

"Oh right," Michael said in embarrassment. How could he forget about her voice? "You could still go in," Michael suggested.

"No, it's better for me out here... Are you going in?" Rowan asked, turning to look him in the eye.

"No, I think I'm going to stay out here and see what you say," Michael responded.

"What does that mean?" Rowan said, confused by how she should take his comment.

"I don't know. You're a fucking mess, Rowan. You're vulnerable right now, you have past stories that weigh you down, and you have this curiosity you don't know how to hold back," Michael was blunt about what he thought about her, because to him she was someone you shouldn't hold back from. "And to top it off, you have the voice of my dead best friend and meeting you turned my life into a shitty soap opera."

"You're not wrong," she laughed. "I know that if you had Drew's voice I would be scared as hell. And I am a fucking mess. My mom doesn't want to be responsible for me, I'm broke, my jobs never pay well, and now I'm caught in between two tragedies I just can't sort out." Her eyes didn't waver when she spoke. That was something Michael noticed about Rowan, no matter what happened, her eyes were unmoving and resilient even if she wasn't.

The mood between them grew heavy, and in an attempt to lighten the mood, Michael asked her something that would either make her sad or nostalgic.

"How'd you meet Drew?"

Rowan's voice caught as she was washed over with about a hundred feelings, guilt, worry, pain, sadness, so many things that made her want to fall apart. But the part of her that still loved Drew, the hopeless romantic who chased after him for years, wanted nothing more but to reminisce about him.

"In third grade, when he broke my wrist."

Michael coughed hard hearing that answer. "He did what?" He questioned in disbelief.

"He broke my right wrist. We were standing next to each other in gym one day and he was going to catch a football that Harry Kramer threw and this asshole practically ran me over in his attempt to dive for it. He shoved me over and the two of us landed on my wrist." Rowan explained with a slight smile.

"Did you cry?" Michael asked in amusement.

"No Michael, I laughed. He apologized a million times and told me he would pay for my surgery with a handful of coins," Rowan laughed at the memory. A bright laugh, the kind that made things seem okay. "He checked in on me everyday until I recovered. That's how we became friends."

She looked at the ground.

"That's when everything went to hell, the second I started to love him."

They remained silent for a while, until Michael had to say what was on his mind."You didn't come here to visit. So why're you here, Rowan?"

"Yeah, but I guess... A girl always has a secret agenda," Rowan sighed and fixed her eyes back on Luke talking to Ashton. And that's when Michael saw it. The way she was looking at Luke was the same look from three nights ago. Like she was lost and disoriented and was praying to know why. It was the same way she looked at him when she talked about loving Drew.

"Rowan," Michael said

"You said I could help him right, in the most crooked way possible? And I want him to help me, in the most crooked way possible." Rowan's mind wasn't level with Michael's anymore, she was wandering out of his reach; just like Luke did.

"He can't replace him."

"Michael, this was originally your idea. And now I'm just more open to it, I suppose." Her head leaned to the side as she said it. 

"It was a bad idea, it still is," Michael said regretfully.

"In the last three days Michael, all I've been of is thinking of is bad ideas. Should I just drink until I can't think? Should I cry until I'm dead? I don't know anymore Michael. I'm fucking lost and I'm stuck in this shitty state of feeling depressed." She didn't sound angry when she spoke, only scared. Because that's what grieving does to you, it makes you scared.

And scared is what Michael was too. Scared of seeing Luke break down, scared of losing his friend, scared of being caught in a twisted lie. And when you're scared you're desperate. And that's why Michael gave in; he was desperate.

"Okay, I'll talk to the other guys about it. I'll write you a check if this goes through," Michael said. He didn't want to resort to this, but this was his only chance to escape his guilt. "But Rowan..."

"Yes?" She answered.

"You know by agreeing to this, nothing's going to be the same anymore right? Not for me, you, Ashton, Calum, or Luke. This isn't a game," Michael clarified.

"I know Michael. After all, we're all a little bit too old to be playing games." 

-

a/n: effed up ik