a/n: Ermergerd he's so pretty stop
Hospitals depress me. It always smells too clean, the hallways are almost always empty, and there's the soft beeping of machines in every other room. The nurses are nice, though. I suppose that's the happiest part.
I walk slowly through the automatic doors, Monday, December 19, 2014. As always, the small, fake Christmas trees were in two corners of the library, and messily made snowflakes made by the children cancer patients hung from the ceiling. I guess, this is as festive as it gets around here.
I wave at the lady behind the desk as she greets me.
"Good afternoon Josey."
"Hi," I mumble, and pick up my pace so I don't have to strike up a conversation.
The elevator comes slowly and opens with a slight creak. I step in and let the doors close behind me. As usual, I'm the only one in the elevator. It goes up to floor 9, as usual, and I step out lazily, as usual.
I walk down the hallway, reaching my destination. I push open the door to the patients room. There's a medical bed in the center of the room, an add-on bathroom to the left, and an arm chair next to the large window to the right. I take a seat in the chair, placing my backpack next to me.
The lady in the bed looked at me with wide, caramel doe eyes. She had whispy blonde hair with eyelashes a shade darker. She had a heart shaped face, and creases by the corners of her eyes, from when she used to smile. Her small, delicate fingers clasped and unclasped themselves together. A nervous tick, I guess. She opened her mouth a couple of times before speaking.
"My daughter should be coming by soon," was all she said. I sighed. It was one of those days.
"I know. She came yesterday too, right?" I asked, as nicely as I could without breaking down.
She nodded and looked away from me.
"She came for a long time yesterday, didn't she? Your daughter loves you a lot. She told me so." The lady turned to me as I said this and smiled. She reached for my hand and squeezed it gently.
"Yes she does. She looks like you, I think," she says. "Who are you?"
"I'm Josey. I came by yesterday to see you," I looked at her pleadingly.
"Okay. Do you know when my daughter will be here? She's supposed to come," she looked at me innocently.
"I think she's here," I said softly. The lady looked around the room sort of rapidly, searching for someone she should recognize. But there was no one else in the room.
"I don't see her. I only see you," she said loudly. Like she was arguing with someone.
"I know. Your daughter's here. I'm here. Come on, you have to remember me!"
She shook her head violently. "No. N-n-no. I would remember my daughter." She shook her head harder and harder. I knew nothing would work today. It was just one of those days.
"Yes, you're right. You would. I'm sorry. That was mean of me to say. I'm sorry," I said, just like the nurses told me.
I stay for two hours or so, doing my homework while she mumbles here and there about God knows what before I head home. Hopefully, tomorrow will be better. Maybe she'll remember. It might be one of those days. A good day.
-:-:-
I begin my slow walk back to the elevators. As usual, it comes, and I step in, and the doors creakily start to close. But what isn't normal, is a voice calling out to hold the elevator. Of course, I barely have time to register this when a hand sticks through the diminishing crack between the doors and pushes. The old elevator complies and let's the stranger in.
The guys is tall, really tall, with blonde hair that looks like it was styled up before he repeatedly ran his hands through it, and the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen. He has a long, strait nose and a a strong jaw. He was also slouching a little as he leaned against the wall, like he just ran a marathon or something. Also, he had bags under his eyes that either came from restless nights, stress, or both, contrasting with his pale skin. He had the leanest legs and broad shoulders, in which one was sporting a raggy black Jansport backpack. He looked around eighteen, maybe nineteen years old, like me. And not at all happy.
"Sorry," he mumbled, barely looking at me while I stared at him full on.
"No problem." I whipped my eyes away before he noticed and examined the wall as I'd done countless times before.
I wanted to speak to the guy to get out of the awkward silence. I was sure he felt how uncomfortable this was. But I guess speaking wouldn't help either.
I continued my internal debate as the elevator descended. I glanced at him again as the doors were about to open and he did too. Our eyes met and the boy opened his mouth like he was going to say something right as the doors opened.
"Bye," I said, panicking and bolting out of the elevator. I didn't look back to see his face. I don't think I wanted to.
-:-:-
The ride home on the subway is boring and slow. But my mind is positively racing. The elevator scene played and replayed over in my mind. I thought of all the things I did wrong and all the witty, cute things I could have said. Just like any teenage girl would. But I guess these feelings came a little late, because I never experienced them in high school. Now that I'm in my second year of college, I was getting all flustered over a hot guy I've barely spoken two words to. Jesus of Suburbia, save me.
a/n: okay, first chappy and I PROMISE this story will go somewhere
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