Ephemeral

C H A P T E R 1 3

"Hey Zen, can I change a part of my bet?"

No answer.

I looked up from my phone to see if she had headphones in. She didn't, her eyes concentrated on the nurse as she worked the needle through my skin, pulling the wound closed.

Shaking my head, I resumed my game of Subway Surfers.

"That doesn't hurt?" She whispered.

"Hm?"

"Getting stitched up. You haven't even flinched."

"Oh, cause it's not that bad."

"Wait, wait, wait. So you're telling me rubbing alcohol makes you jump, but getting a cut stitched closed doesn't?"

I looked down, watching as she pushed the needle through again. "I'm jumping...just on the inside."

The actress looked at me in disbelief. "That's insane."

I shrugged. "It's just a high pain tolerance."

"But you jumped when Chris and the nurse cleaned it."

The brunette nurse chuckled, almost like she was remembering it. I smacked my teeth. "Don't you laugh. And besides, that shit hurts. Anyone would jump."

"So only certain things hurt enough to make you jump?"

"Exactly! Certain things just...hurt. It's like how everyone hates stepping on a lego."

She shook her head, turning to look at the various pictures posters in the room with a small smile. "Weirdo."

I froze, images playing quickly behind my eyes. I could feel my smile morph into a sullen, almost blank face until the feeling of the needle pushing through my arm jolted me back to reality.

The nurse, her tag reading Bre, gave me a mirthful smile. "That one hurt huh, baby?"

I gave her a small fake laugh. "Yeah, just a little."

Zen turned with a small smirk, "So you do feel."

My head immediately cleared, a genuine smile crossing my face. "Never said I didn't."

"Good to know. By the way, what did you want to change?"

"The pancake part. I was wondering if you could make a song with me instead."

"You sing?" Bre blurted, immediately blushing as she finished up the last stitch. "I'm sorry."

"You're fine Ms. Bre." I waved, "but yeah. I sing, even though I'm not that good."

Zen snorted.

See, Ms. Bre was an older woman. She didn't recognize either of us when we filled the paperwork out. Even when she took us into this small room, and we removed our hoods, she had yet to realize who we were. It was why I was calling Zen by her name so freely.

"Well that's just wonderful. My grandson sings at our church." She smiled warmly, wrapping my arm and hand.

"Oh yeah? Can you write down the address of the church for me ma'am?"

"Oh yes! We love visitors. Let me just go get a pen and paper while I finish your paperwork."

When the door was fully shut, we both burst into laughter.

"Really Y/N? You're not that good?"

"Hey, she'll be shocked when she hears me sing. I'm going to take a picture with her to show her church members."

She shook her head. "You're a mess."

"But you like it."

Her cheeks turned red and she smiled softly. "A little." I almost squealed out loud but she quickly changed the subject. "Did you really want to do another song?"