A Little Off-Limits - Ponyboy x Reader

Seconds to Hours on a Slow Clock

Ponyboy
     (F/n) asked me who I was, and I nearly felt myself get sick. I dodged out of the room, like some fight-or-flight response taking me over, and slammed the door behind me. A nurse from behind the reception desk gave me a concerned look, and I stared blankly at her for a moment.

     "Are you okay, young man?" she asked me.

     "No one told me she'd forget who I was," I snapped.  My throat was dry; I struggled to swallow for just a second, and just ended up gagging.

     The nurse, in response, grabbed me a plastic cup of water and sat me down in a chair. She went through her folder, filled to the brim with numbered patients, until she found (F/n)'s sheet. She read the notes to herself in a soft voice, and then rested a hand on my shoulder.

     "It's just a moderate concussion; likely she's still in a subconscious state of shock. Rest and interaction will bring her back to normal in no time, okay?"

     "Okay," I breathed out. My hands were shaking still, but I stood and composed myself.

     The emergency room was a little busier now; I think another car crash occurred, because I saw paramedics bringing in two other gurneys with people strapped to them. They had bloodied faces and were screaming and crying, and one of them was saying that he couldn't feel his legs. My heart grew sore as I turned back into the private room. I slammed the door and threw my water cup into the trash with the biohazard sign on it. Again, (F/n) strained to look at me, and she flashed an odd smile.

"I'm on a lot of drugs right now, aren't I?" she said with a dry chuckle.

I looked at the three clear bags hanging from what looked like coat hanger; one was pumping blood into a needle that went into her arm, and the other were pumping in clear liquids whose labels I couldn't read.

"Yeah, looks like it." I gave her a soft smile.

"I got hurt bad, didn't I?"

I shrugged. "Yes and no."

"I'd say yes. I mean, if I'm on so many drugs that I can't really move my limbs, but I can still feel pain, that's probably not a great sign."

"You're chatty for someone on a hospital bed," I remarked lightly, sitting in the chair next no the bed.

(F/n) tilted her head my way. "Am I not normally this chatty?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

She attempted a shrug, but it really looked more like a twitch. "The way you're looking at me makes me think you know me. And I don't even know my name at the moment."

"It's (F/n)," I told her.

"(F/n)." She sighed and returned her gaze to the ceiling. "What's yours?"

"Ponyboy." I spoke softly when I said this, and I guess she picked up on that, because she twitched her hand like she wanted me to grab it. I did, and then brushed my thumb across her scraped knuckles.

"That's a nice name. Rings a bell, too, if that makes you feel any better," (F/n) said. "Do you know when I get to leave? Or at least move around? Or why I'm even here?"

I regarded her carefully. Her eyebrows were upturned slightly, and her (e/c) eyes were glossy; they stared blankly above her. She took in shallow breaths from a heaving chest, and I could tell she was struggling to even do that. She was not panicked or grief-stricken. Just very afraid.

"You were hit by a car a few hours ago on your way home from the library. You didn't break any bones, but you have a concussion and had to get stitches here and there from the glass. I don't know when you can move around, but you can probably leave once your brother gets here. He had to check you out; I would, but we're not related and I'm just a kid."

     "Thank you, Ponyboy."

     "No problem."

     She asked, "Are you going to stay with me? Or are you leaving soon?"

     Still holding her hand, I leaned back in the chair and set my head in my hand, posting my arm on the armrest. I sighed. "I'll be here as long as you like. You should try to get some sleep though."

I glanced around the room, eyes shifting across all the medical equipment. The heart monitor that beeped every few seconds, which I didn't understand why they had attached to (F/n), sat next to those bags that pumped fluids into her. The lighting was low and the room was so still that it made it seem like everything should have been a lot more quiet, but I could hear nurses bustling around with those two car accident victims. One was still screaming in pain.

It was about another hour of quiet before a nurse case into the room and said that they were moving (F/n) into a room for the night. They needed the space in the private room for another admittance. So (F/n) got pushed out of the emergency room, up a floor into the patient ward, and into another, quieter room. There were less tools up there, but the heart monitor and fluid bag hanger were still around. (F/n) had a dead stare for most of the time. I kept holding her hand and watching doctors pass by, hoping Steve would come in and say he was ready to take her home. I didn't want to stay here anymore. I didn't like watching her stare at nothing. Made me think she was terrified or uncomfortable.

I didn't move a muscle either way. Just stared at the clock, watching the seconds turn to minutes, and the minutes turn into hours; when I could I'd glance at (F/n) from the corner of my eye, and around two o'clock in the morning was when I saw her eyes had finally shut. I sighed and laid myself back against my chair, which was hard and had a squeak. My thumb continued to graze over her bruised knuckle, and I just tried to focus on the softness of her skin instead of the dim lights in the hallway. I really did hate hospitals.

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If I write another fanfiction, I STG THE READER IS GONNA HAVE A HIJAB. I'm fed up (not really lol I just wanna see myself for once and this isn't a call out don't worry 😉). Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!