Under The Weather

8

"Bailey?"

Doctor Addison stood in the doorframe once again. Leisurely, I turned to meet her unreadable expression.

"W-what did I d-do this t-time?"

Ever since last week, I was on edge. 

Lance was ignoring me. 

He would see me in the hall and turn the other direction - like I was some sort of beast.

"Nothing, not that I know of." She sauntered toward me, "I need you to talk Lance for me."

"H-he won't t-talk t-to me, I've t-tried." The expression of hurt was clear on my face.

"Of course." She huffed and sat on the chair opposite me, "Bailey, he's been through a lot with his -"

She abruptly stopped speaking, I furrowed my eyebrows together.

"He's had a rough start, you know," She started to fumble her words, "The kids at his school didn't –"

Her eyes wandered in thought.

"It's not my place to tell you, it should come from Lance himself." She scuttled toward the door, "You should try talking to him again."

Before I could reply, she had already left the room. 

'Rough start? Lance? I never would've associated the two.'

Lance was always the more laid back, cool-headed and optimistic out of the two of us. The kind of person who everyone would naturally gravitate to. 

The 'life of the party' sort.

A female version of Ophelia, to put it plainly, but way less awkward and reserved.

***

I had knocked at Lance's door several times, 10 to be exact.

"L-lance, p-please open t-the d-door. I k-know y-you're in t-there." I sighed, I wanted to help him so bad, but I couldn't if he wouldn't let me in

"There's no point, wheelchair." I swiftly turned to face the rash voice.

There was a tall, brunette leaning against the wooden doorframe. 

A dark red hoodie was hanging from her hips paired with an oversized black 'Metallica' shirt.

At first glance, she seemed hardened and hot-headed. 

"W-what?"

"wheelchair? seriously?"

"Are you deaf? I said. There's. No. Point." She grunted in annoyance.

"Y-yeah, I g-got that p-part. The p-part I have a p-problem w-with is 'wheelchair'." I rolled toward her.

"What? You're in a wheelchair, aren't you?"

I rolled my eyes.

"I've seen about 3 people try to get that guy in there to open his door, all of them failed. So, you can stop that banging, and be on your way." She stared at me, expectant.

"I'm not leaving until I get inside." 

She let out a groan of annoyance, "Fine."

The girl stomped toward the door, cleared her throat and knocked, "Lance, its time for your medication." In the most high pitched, melodic tone I'd ever heard. 

I sniggered and in response, she glared at me.

The handle began to turn, our heads snapped towards the sound.

"Lance?"