hospital beds:: remington leith au

[chapter five]

"hey rem." i say softly as i walk over to the couch he is sitting on "i need to talk to you."

his expression doesn't really change much as he sets the guitar down and looks up at me. i hesitantly take a seat next to him, looking him over again, this time up close and personal. the usual arrogant smirk and straight douchebag aura he puts on is now absolutely nowhere to be found. the stories his eyes always tell were etched across his entire face, a small pout resting on his lips. my stomach dropped and i felt like absolute shit. why did i do this to him? i did this to him.

this is all my fault, i repeat to myself, drilling it into my head.

"what more could you say to me ophelia?" he asks sadly with just a slight hint of anger, his voice breaking weakly.

"rem i'm so so sorry."

and in that moment the flood gates opened. i started bawling like an absolute baby.

"i didn't mean any of it. i was mad and i know that's not an excuse but i can't always control it. i didn't mean to say i hate you. sometimes i get so blinded by rage in the moment, i say things i don't mean. i know it was bad. it's the whole reason i'm here. i hope you know i don't actually hate you, far from it really. i love you so much and i'm so sorry that i said those things to you. it happens when i fall for someone or get to close to anyone and i just don't know what to do except push you away because that's all i've ever known that isn't cling to you so much that you hate me." i ramble out to him whilst sobbing, sniffling and blinking rapidly in attempt to stop myself.

he looks at me, his jaw resisting the urge to fall slack, utter shock on his face "y-you what now? can you say that again?"

"seriously, i apologised i mean i'm sor-" i say, dumbfounded, confused at the fact he didn't just hear me ramble about how sorry i am.

"no, no, not that ma chérie. the other thing." he says with his usual amused face peaking through, making me feel a bit better myself.

"that i love you?" i ask, more as a question than an answer to his own.

"yes exactly that." he spoke, a small smile toying at the corners of his lips "i have something to show you. i wrote a song about the last week and how i feel about you. i actually finished it last night. it's a bit idealised in a f- wait, never mind. i think it would be better if i played it for you instead of just telling you. can i?" he asks hopefully.

"yes, of course. go ahead." i say, slightly worried that he wrote a song about how much he hates me and how much i've ruined his life over the last week.

he picks the guitar back up and strums a few quick chords, then proper beginning to play me the opening to a song. i've never seen him play guitar before, so this is interesting.

"yes i've had
quite a day
the voices in my head won't go away
i've had
quite a week
i hope i die
in my sleep
well, i'm so happy are you ready now
i'm so happy are you ready now
so depressed are you ready now
so obsessed are you ready now

well don't say i've never loved you right
don't say i've never held you at night
don't say
don't you say
don't say just love me for today
don't say i've never held your hand
don't say i've never been your man
don't say
don't you say
don't say just love me for today