𝐰𝐝𝐰 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 & 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

surgery › c.b.

in honor of his surgery going well.

the bean had seemed fine for the past few days, but you couldn't help but notice that something was bothering. you just couldn't put your finger on it. something on his mind lately, and as his girlfriend, you felt it was your job to figure it out.

the first thing you had done was ask the boys and corbyn's family since other than you, they were the closest people in his life. but they didn't know either. you kept searching until after two days, you gave up and gave into sitting across from him and watching him nervously tap his foot on the floor, staring into blank space.

"corbyn," you said. he continued to glare at the ground as if it were a staring contest. "corbyn," you said a bit louder. you placed your hand on his with a worried look on your face. he looked up at you and smiled although you could see past it. "can you please tell me what's been bothering you lately?"

corbyn closed his eyes and smiled. he held your hand, rubbing his fingers across the skin of yours. "it's nothing, beautiful," he breathed out to you gently. "you don't have to worry."

"something's been on your mind lately," you said. you leaned forward towards your boyfriend, determined to figure out what was wrong. "you haven't been talking to us either. not me, not the boys, not your family. i want to know what's on your mind, i want to help you."

corbyn sighed. he smiled slightly and inhaled deeply. "i have to get surgery on my throat," he said. "i have a swollen infection that's making it hard to breathe, and when i went to the doctors, they said that i needed surgery on my throat. i'm sorry i didn't tell you before. i've known for about a week now, the surgery's tomorrow. i'm sorry, baby."

you looked at corbyn with soft eyes. "oh, baby," you said. you walked over to him and held him in your arms. "i'm not mad, if that's what you're thinking. i would never be mad. it's okay that you didn't tell me. and i can see that you're scared. corbyn, don't be scared. you're going to be fine. you're a fighter, you're tough. you can fight through this, you always fought through everything. you know i'll always support you."

"thank you, beautiful," corbyn said.

»«

you waited in the waiting room of the hospital, growing more and more impatient by the second. you knew everything was going to be okay. you meant what you had said that day, corbyn could get through it. you believed that. but as you sat impatiently, nervously bouncing your knee, chewing on your lip, you couldn't help but feel large waves of anxiety wash over your body.

what if something happened? what if the surgery went wrong?

you had decided to let all negative thoughts out of your mind. you let them slip away as you replaced them with positive thoughts. like how you would see corbyn in only a few minutes.

his surgery had ended three hours ago, but he had been knocked out for a long time. they wouldn't let you in the room until he woke up, which would be any minute now.

it seemed like it took forever. it felt like you were waiting a hundred years to see if your boyfriend was in good condition or not. you knew not to surround him with excitement and squeeze him too tight when you hugged him. he would be tired and worn out, and his throat would definitely be throbbing in pain.

you watched the clock that hung on the hospital wall. you watched as it's hands moved further and further every second, but it only made you more impatient.

"miss (y/n) for besson?" you heard a gentle voice call. your head snapped up and towards the sound. there was a nurse at corbyn's door with a small, but genuine, smile on her face. "he's awake now."