hide and seek // finn wolfhard

✒️black mambo

42. black mambo
✒️day XLII: the aftermath

finns pov.

five-hundred and four hours...twenty days...three weeks.

norah has been unconscious for three weeks and a half now. shortly after getting into the truck, beside a lifeless norah, my body gave out itself. the doctor said it was because of the amount of blood that I lost from the bullet wound in my shoulder but, I completely forgot about my gun shot incident because, the only thought that bombarded my mind up until that moment, was norah.

she was all I had to live for..the only significant female in my life that was still alive...now, that my father is dead, that is. I have no idea what happened to mr. banks or the rest of Norah's family but, I didn't care right now. the only thing that was on my mind was the aftermath for norah.

would she still remember me? would she remember...anything? how much pain is she in?

whatever it is, I could never relate. the bullet in my shoulder, any of my previous wounds, the neglect I received from my father and...deceased mother. none of that. nothing ive experienced can equal what that girl has been through in the mass of two months.

I wanted nothing more than to see her, and hold her, and run my fingers through her pale her as she shoots me one of those tired half-smiles she always giv...gave me. but, paul said it was too risky to stay in the hospital, worried the employees would recognize me the longer I stayed hospitalized.

so, the moment after the doctor announced that I was good to go, paul paid for my hospital bills and took me to a hide-away house to live with my uncle, Sabastian whilst paul stayed with norah until she gained consciousness.

everyday. every single second of everyday, ive been training myself to become less and less dependent on anyone besides myself. I stopped asking for help or assistance from any of the staff members, nor my uncle since my arrival.

therefore, ive attempted to distract myself with kick-boxing, firearm training, even changing my entire wardrobe. but, nothing. nothing could get my mind off of her and i was finally getting fed up with living my life feeling like a lonely, piece of shit, desperate for one girl.

its time to move on.

norah's pov.

"hey, kid. its me, old man paul...listen, kid. i know you may think it's super comfy chilling in that big ol' head of yours. but, i promise, out here, in the real world, there's a queen size bed, or king size whatever you want, with your name written all of it."paul said, once again, using his undying sense of humor to persuade me to wake up from my coma.

paul has to be the most amazing person that i have ever met. ever sense i was registered into this place, he's came here every single day, splitting his one liners into a morning to afternoon schedule.

every morning he'd come in and tell me how amazing my hair looked, even though i couldn't see myself. then, in the afternoon, he'd play rock, paper, scissors with me, him always doing rock, knowing i can only do paper.

paul deserves more than me. he doesn't deserve to waste his time, his days, his precious moments on this earth, sitting in a hospital chair, in front of a vegetable, for hours upon hours, hoping to witness the slightest movement coming from me.

and keeping that in mind, i tried harder and harder to move, to even wake up hopefully. and it happened a few times, twice to be exact. but, every time, paul was either asleep or using the restroom. but, itll happen again. it has to. it's the least i can do for paul.

"y'know, kid..." paul started to say, stopping to take my hand in his. then, i heard a sniffle. a heart-breaking, pitiful sniffle, indicating that paul was crying. the kindest, sweetest man in the world is crying and i demand to know why immediately.

"i didnt wanna tell anyone because, it hurts whenever i say it but...i had a little girl, once. she died four years ago from cancer and..." he stopped to let out another heart-burning sniffle. "i thought i'd never get over her death but, then i met you. you were so much like her. you're both feisty little know-it-alls that would never, for all the money in the world, admit to needing help for anything."

"and...i just wanted you to know i love you, kid, as if you were my own. and sometimes...i feel like you are. seeing you with a bullet wound on your body broke my heart and i just wanted you safe and away from all this bullshit." he told me...my lifeless body unknowing taking in every ounce of information he revealed.

"so, please. would ya just please try to give me a sign. anything. wiggle your nose a little, squeeze my hand, anything. just let me know that I'm still talking to the same little pale angel that the world is missing and not some little alien gir-"

my hand squeezed his. with all my might. it squeezed his hand as if he was all of my hopes and dreams. because, a loving father-figure who'd risk his everything for me...is.