Ronan: To the Moon and Back

8. What's Louder; A Slammed Door, Burnt Rubber or a Denial?

Warning: Mentions of cancer

Louis stares astonished at Raelyn, and sees nothing but genuine truth in her eyes. He blinks twice, and shakes his head to rearrange his thoughts. "You can't cry?" He asks, "like...at all?"

Rae shakes her head. "Haven't for three years, actually."

Louis is dumbfounded, and thinks he's developed a staring problem because he can not take his eyes of this girl. Rae is just casually studying the nail of her pinkie finger, then begins to pick off the sliver nail varnish. Louis is still trying to figure out how it's even physically possible not to cry; blocked tear ducts maybe. Rae shifts her legs, crossing one knee over the other and clears her throat.

"Are you going to ask, or just stare at me until your eyes fall out?"

"Like The Holiday?" Is Louis brilliant question. It's all he can think about.

Rae gives him a confused look until realisation dawns on her face. "Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Like Cameron Diaz in The Holiday."

She suddenly pats his knee, two quick taps then stands up. Louis watches as she stretches, arms reaching above her head, her shirt riding up to expose a sliver of her back. She pivots on the ball of her foot, smiling abruptly at him.

"I'm gonna go get a chocolate biscuit, if you'd like to join me?" She offers, pointing over her shoulder to the exit doors.

Louis is so, so intriguingly curious about her, wants to know more about her. Why she digs her nails into her chest, what's the thing that made her stop crying all together. How she can go from looking like the saddest person one minute, to the happiest soul in the next. Wants to know how it's possible for her right eye to have a golden speck laced between the blue, and tiny dots of green glittered in her left.

"Sure." Louis answers, stand up himself. "I'll get one for Ronan when he wakes from his nap. If he can have it."

Rae fixes him with a soft, grateful smile. "He can't, but that's really sweet of you."

Louis holds his arm out for her to lead the way, and follows her out, glancing at the closed door to Ronan's room when they pass it.

*****

Three 1/2 years ago :

That first week Ronan, at just the young age of fourteen months, had a fever that took several days to fight off, should have been the first sign. The growing paleness of his soft baby skin, whiter than the shades in Raelyn's black and white photos, was the second sign. The first day Ronan had fallen down was a major sign that something may be terribly wrong.

Sweet, little baby Ronan had attempted to make his way towards his older sister. His bright blue eyes, wide with curiosity, had caught sight of the shiny lens of Raelyn's brand new camera. Rae aimed the camera on her brother, and when the sound of the shutter goes off under her finger, Ronan started to crawl towards her.

"Look, Dad!" Raelyn exclaimes, showing off the picture she just took. "Look at the quality!"

Their father, who sat on the sofa reading the newspaper, lowers the paper to view the photo. He gently takes the camera from his daughter to scroll through the few pictures she had taken already. Rae is watching Ronan as he is crawling towards her, tuning out her father's praise of the pictures, when she notices the slow pace her brother is moving. Ronan attempts to stand up like he's been doing lately, wobbling on shaky legs, when abruptly, he falls down. It isn't the normal toddler fall either. Ronan lets out a loud wailing noise, a cry of pain, before crumbling and collapsing onto his belly. Their father quickly shoves the camera back to Raelyn, before scooping up Ronan gently. He checks for any injuries, noticing a dark bruise rapidly growing beneath his son's eyes that wasn't there before.