What Happens in Vancouver...

Chapter 11: ...doesn't have to stay in Vancouver

You muttered underneath your breath: "Drama queen."

As soon as you had come out of the bar, Richie had literally fainted when he saw his palm was seriously bleeding. Jon had come at his other side to drag him to David's car, now able to help him without the fear of getting punched in the nose.

He had climbed with him at the back, you at the front with David. You had never been in his car before, and mentally swore yourself it would be the last time; he slalomed between cars with so much speed you were holding yourself wherever you could, casually closing your eyes as you passed very much too close to a car.

At the back, Jon was maintaining Richie straight the best he could, sometimes praising him to wake up; he even slapped him at a moment, making both you and David turn – what made you clamp your hand on the driver's cheek to make him look back at the road.

Both extirpated him and dragged him inside the same way, Richie casually lifting his head half conscient and making a weak step before crashing back on his friends. You were the first to reach for the desk, and were taken in charge nearly directly.

A nurse removed the pieces of glass and put plasters on his cheek and bandages on his hand. She had said it wasn't serious, but decided to put him perfusion due to his livid face.

You don't know if he was still passed out or simply asleep, but he was eyes closed, in his hospital gown, tucked under the white sheets like a seriously injured person; what made you instantly roll your eyes and seriously assume he was, in fact, a drama queen.

You had hopped cross-legged on his bed at his feet and detached your eyes from his form. David was walking back and forth in the room and Jon was in front of you, laying against the wall. Your little adventure seemed to have reinstalled the awkwardness between you and both of you were carefully avoiding each other's gazes.

"Guys, I'm going to grab coffees. Jon? y/n? Want one?"

Both of you nodded and David escaped the room, leaving you in silence, Richie's deep breaths only filling the place.

"I hope he won't keep a scar." You puffed. "Well, if he does, I'm sure he will use it to flirt with women."

You shrugged and turned your face to Jon; he was already looking at you. He passed his hand at the back of his neck and said: "Did you mean it?"

You frowned: "Hum... Yes. He always finds ways to attract women in his bed, I mean, he would have one arm only he would manage to-"

"No. I mean... Today. When you said deep inside you, you wanted this."

Oh.

That.

You blushed and watched your feet underneath your legs: "Well, you know... It's... I totally understand you want to end this, it's-"

"I never said that."

You lifted your face and saw he had advanced towards you. He had nearly the same expression as earlier in the restaurant when he had let escape his words too quick.

You tried to not stutter: "Oh, I thought... I thought you didn't want me, because, you didn't really want to talk to me, and with the girls..."

"For earlier today, it was stupid. To be honest... Richie got the idea."

He scratched his head in embarrassment and you said: "But he didn't know..."

"Yes, but I told him I liked a girl, and... That I didn't know if she wanted me." He was playing with the fringes of his coat and supporting your gaze seemed very difficult. "So he advised me to make her jealous."