Maybe It Was Fate

Chapter Thirty-Five

Allie's POV

People. I hear them before I see them. Their voices are soft, quiet. I can't determine words, only listen to the muffled sound of voices. Listening is so much easier than seeing. The amount of effort to open my eyes seems like so much.

A light weight covers my body, leaving me cold. However, despite the cold atmosphere around my body, warmth radiates on the right side of my body, the source starting from my hand.

I pry my eyes open, squinting at the sudden exposure of light. A white ceiling stares back at me, the intensity of white increasing the throbbing residing in my skull. A hospital.

I crane my neck sideways to find the source of warmth. A worn leather recliner sits next to the hospital bed. Two hands are clasped around mine, a head resting on the edge of the bed, the back of a boy's head facing me. I shift slightly into an upright position, wincing at the pain that blossoms in my head.

I raise my free hand, brushing my fingers as lightly as possible over my head. Fabric seems to be covering the left side of my forehead.

I place my hand on the boys' head, running my fingers through his hair in an attempt to awaken him.

He stirs, one hand locking around my wrist, stilling it. He inhales deeply. His head lifts from the bed, his face turning to face me, eyes still closed.

I have to refrain from coughing when I realise I'm looking down at Chris' face. I lift my hand hesitantly and place it on his cheek. Warmth dances across my palm. His eyes crack open, annoyance sparking for a moment.

The annoyance disappears when his eyes lock on mine. I've never seen a person sit up as fast as he did; I'm surprised he didn't fall out of the chair.

"Allie." He whispers, grabbing my hand in his once again.

His fingers tremble between mine causing my heart to ache slightly. The concern in his demeanour brings a flood of emotions over me.

I lock my fingers with his and tug his arm towards me. I lean towards him, pulling his body into mine, ignoring all protests from pain.

His arms tighten around me; his breath is heavy and shaky.

"What happened?" I whisper into his ear.

"You fell." His voice is muffled into my shoulder.

"I'm okay." I whisper in an attempt at reassurance.

The previous chill that my body was accustomed too was now replaced with warm.

He draws away from me, his eyes red and watery, emotion brimming his eyes.

"You scared me so much." His voice is soft but thickly coated with fear.

I shuffle over in the bed, making room for him. He looks at the empty spot next to me. He considers it for a moment but shakes his head.

"I'll get in trouble. They still need to do some tests." He says, as if I care. I don't.

"You've been in that stupid chair all night. Just come here."

He sighs and contemplates for a moment before standing hesitantly. He relaxes against the thin mattress of the hospital bed and stretches his legs. No doubt the bed is better than the worn leather chair.

Now that he's right next to me, I notice how exhaustion has engraved itself onto his face. Dark circles encircle his coffee-stained eyes, the usual warmth drained from them. He closes them, sighing restfully. I let me head fall loosely to the side, resting on his shoulder and gazing up at him intently.