The Troubled Ones | ✔

Chapter 17. Defiance

[a/n]: the last chapter sucked in my opinion, so, sorry about that. idk why, but it is always the 16th chapter of any books of mine that always sucks. but anyway, hopefully this chapter is better :)
ps// this took forver to write, idek why.
pss// i honestly cant remember if aria has jasper's phone number, but in this chapter it says she has it, so just go with it (sorry for my lack of remembrance) also this ending is pretty bland, but hopefully the chapter isnt.

Chapter 17. Defiance

                Jasper throws his apartment keys to a small key hook and closes the front door that is placed beside it. Since Jasper and I live in the same building and we both just went through some catastrophic events, we chose to come here and talk about what happened like the civil teenagers we are. Ruthie, his sister, is at his grandmother's house tonight, meaning we won't have to be completely on guard about what we say and what might frighten his little sister.

"Why did you even like that guy?" Jasper quizzes as he shrugs his jacket off.

I sigh and sink down into his leather couch. "He wasn't always a pompous, psychotic, control-freak, kind of guy.. he used to be sweet and very loving."

"Yeah, used to be.." he murmurs, clearly despising the guy.

He strides towards the couch I am currently situated on, and sits down beside me with an exhausted sigh. His electric blues meet my gaze and his frustrated frown turns into a sad sideways smile when he sees me stressful state. When his eyes analyze my features, he suddenly furrows his brows in uncertainty. Reaching his hand over, he cups the side of my cheek and studies my tarnished face.

"Did.. did he hit you?" His Adam's Apple bobs.

My hand clasps around his wrist. "Jasper, I'm okay; it's fine, really."

His thumb grazes over my numbing cheek and a shiver runs down my spine; my heart dropping to my stomach and doing over five-hundred somersaults. His hand slowly drops from my tinted cheek and he sighs at the wrongful doings of Gavin Peters.

"Let me go find some bandages," he says, referring to my bleeding arm which I cut on the way over that fence, and gets up from the couch to search for a First-Aid kit.

He comes back a minute later with a First-Aid kit in hand and kneels down in front of me to get a better look at my arm.

"How's your chest doing?" I inquire.

He lifts his shirt up a small amount to reveal his healing wounds.

"Good, thanks to the pro-surgeon, yourself." he grins boyishly.

"Stop it," I laugh, waving him off.

"Really, though; thanks for stitching me up." he sincerely says.

"It was nothing," I shrug. "I'm just thankful you trusted me, it made me a lot calmer."

He laughs shortly as he wraps the bandage wrap around my deeply cut arm. "That seems like forever ago."

"I know; in hindsight, it was only three or four weeks ago." I add.

We both fall into a comfortable silence after my words end, and eventually he is finished tending to my arm. Closing his First-Aid kit, he stands up from the floor and sits down beside me, his arm brushing against my own. The heat radiating off of him makes me feel secure and at ease.

"Do you ever just wish you could run away from life?" he asks as he stretches his arms back to behind his head and cradles the back of his skull.

"Almost always," I joke and lean my head back onto the couch.