Rambling

20

My head...it hurts.

It hurts really, really badly.

Oh? I thought...I thought I opened my eyes, why can't I open them? Why can't I see?

Speak. Speak already, just open your damn eyes.

What the fuck happened to me?

It had been a few days since the accident, and since then, Civil had been in and out of consciousness, which was brutal on the others. As far as she knew, Elliot, herself, Brock, and his aunt and uncle were there each day, hoping the nurse could lower his dose of pain meds so that he could regain full consciousness. Poppy had taken the last few days off from school and focused on not falling apart, which was proving much more difficult than she thought.

However, Brock had not left her side for a moment.

"Brock," she sobbed, burying her face in his chest as he cradled her.

He hadn't spoken, neither of them could. They were terrified over Elliot, who was just admitted into the hospital for his wrist lacerations. Luckily enough, they weren't as bad as they seemed, most superficial, some more permanent. All she could think was, please don't take my brother, please don't take my brother. She prayed that he would wake up, and that he would be okay. She couldn't believe he tried to kill himself, why did he talk to her? Why was it so hard for her to breathe?

Poppy sighed to herself, and combed a hand through her hair with a sigh. She could hear the shower running, and wondered why Brock was taking so long to get out. Her mind started to race, and her first thought was, of course, he was hurting himself.

Her mind jumped to the conclusion before thinking of a rational thought, and she jumped to her feet with the most vivid thoughts in her head. It was ridiculous, and she knew that, but her mind would not stop racing. She ran to the door, hearing the shower turn off, she decided to make sure Brock wasn't trying to hide his feelings again, she just needed to see him okay.

"Fuck!" Brock screamed, knocking over a living room lamp.

Poppy just stood and watched him, with tears in her eyes as she watched him fall apart, unable to move. She was stunned, and didn't know how to approach him.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK, fuck!" He screamed again, kicking over the side table as he wiped at his eyes.

"Brock-" she tried, but he turned away.

"Why....why would he..." he murmured, not directed to her.

"Why would Civil do this?" He yelled, and finally, turned to face her.

Not once had she seen him break, not even after Elliot, but here, he did.

"Brock..." she whispered, and slowly walked towards him, her voice breaking violently.

"It's just like that day," he spat, and rubbed his eyes hoping to hide his tears.

"Yeah....it is,"

She had shoved the bathroom door open, and looked at Brock with a concerned face.

He had just thrown a towel around his waist, hanging low enough to show a bit of hair. His chest was defined and hard, each ripple of his smooth skin dappled with light freckles. His arms hung low at his sides, burns bulging from the intense heat of the shower, water glistening down his bare chest and hair making it stick to his forehead. His hand was hovering over the side of his towel, keeping it together as he dead stared Poppy in the eyes.