Ronan: To the Moon and Back

17. Tides are too Much

 Disclaimer: I literally have no idea what the weather is like in London during Novemeber....I'm from Florida.
TW: Panic attack, realities of a hospital.  

It's one of those rainy days in November. Those days when the crack of thunder acts an an alarm clock, rain hammering against the glass of the window, and lightning illuminates the dark gray sky. When the power goes out on the street, but at Rae's house it has already been out for the past 24 hours, due to the one bill she had to sacrifice in order to pay the Hospice bill instead. She awoke from the clash and rattle of the thunder, sitting up lethargically in bed with the duvet tangled around her legs in the silent stillness of her room. All she wants to do is go back to sleep buried under the covers and allow the rain to lull her back into dreamland.

She can't. Can't because its one of those days when reality hits harder than necessary; filled with pessimistic thoughts, rude strangers and red traffic lights. Misleading puddles deeper than they looked, and crap coffee and cold tea. Those days when the hospital feels colder than usual, when another innocent soul is called up to the Heavens, traveling on the wings of angels.

 When the little twins grow weaker by the day. When a little blue eyed boy could no longer fake a smile and ignore the pain coursing throughout his body, bright eyes now dimmed and watery to match the London weather. When he is just too weak, too exhausted to even shift his small legs.

Raelyn had lived through plenty of those days for the past three and a half years, not becoming any easier each time. Like sitting next to her sick brother's bed in a children's hospice surrounded by children of the same likelihood was ever an easy task in itself. No, those days were never easy and this gloomy day isn't any different.

"Make it stop, Mummy." Ronan's mumbles weakly. He is tucked under the white sheets with his blue stars and spaceships blanket over him. Cuddled in his arms is his stuffed Stitch, half the size of him.

"I'm trying, baby." MaryAnn coos gently running her hand along the soft bare skin of her sons head, placing loving kisses on his forehead. "I'm trying. You'll be ok. Mummy will make it go away. You're my brave little man."

Rae is sat in the awful pink chair opposite of her mother, on the other side of the bed. She feels tightly wound, with her legs crossed, clenching together, one arm tucked closely to her stomach, hand gripping the fabric of her shirt. Her teeth are pressed together so hard, she is certain she's giving herself a well induced headache. However, she can't let herself relax or settle, not with her other hand being held feebly by Ronan, otherwise her impending attacks would happen and she would lose it in front of her brother and mother. She never allows that to happen, no matter how painful the spasms that shoot through and grip at her chest are.

Her chest spasms are nothing compared to Ronan's pain, or her mothers. So no, she couldn't allow herself a moment of weakness, not in front of her small knit family. She has to be strong for both of them, like she has been. Especially her mother, who cries at night on the rare times she is home to do so. Who works so hard with long hours stretching through the night just to pay bills and barely get by. Her mother who feels incredibly guilty for having to leave her eldest child alone most of the time, and not spending enough of it, unwillingly of course, with her youngest.

Rae had seen her mother receive the news about her baby, her only son. Had seen her fight and cry and go through a divorce while still juggling a sick child, a teenager and the denial of the lowly, scum of Hell, bastard of a man that used to be her husband. So Raelyn has taken it upon herself to be silently strong for her mother. To be there for Ronan when she couldn't and reminds him of how much their mother loves him, to put a smile on his face.