Luca: Seeing you hurt.Mature

God that was hard. Seeing Gemme hurt like that, I mean. Though the nicotine cravings weren't so much fun either.

And somehow I don't think Gemme is just gonna let me get away with my sudden change in attitude without a few question. Knowing her it'll be more than a few, though.

When we get back, the ashtray and my smokes fly at me and I catch them both, lighting up as soon as Gemme's settled on the sofa.  I sit at one end and she sits at the other and I put my feet up, leaning on the arm of it so I can face her. I've been healing her all the way home in the taxi and that on top of the constant healing I was doing before that has really worn me out. I push the tiredness away and ignore the need to sleep.

Because I don't want Gemme to be hurting while I go to sleep. I think I hurt her enough in my sleep just for that memory finding a way to the surface. And she heard all of it. I keep my expression blank.

"How're you feeling?" I ask as I breathe out a lungful of smoke.

"I'm better." I should hope so too, after all that healing, "Still a little spooked though," she tells me.

"Ya did well, going into hospital ‘n' all," I smile, taking a long drag on my smoke.

"Why did you stick with me for the whole time?" Here we go. I stub out my cigarette and light another before answering.

"Why not?" I shrug. I know. I'm annoying.

"Because I'm sure you could have found something better to do." Like...?

"Yeah, because getting high is a way better idea than helping my best friend with her phobia of hospitals. Good one," I mutter, pushing the lumps of ash in the ashtray around making patterns.

"Right... would you like me to pay off my debt?" I smile at her and nod. The questioning wasn't as bad as I expected it to be. "Umm, anything in particular?"

"What do you like to sing the best?" I ask with a slight shrug. I don't care what song it is, as long as she sings. In case you hadn't noticed, I have a thing about getting my own way.

"I don't particularly have a favourite... let me think," she says. So I let her think. The song that parts her lips is a song I know well. In fact, it's the only song I'm confident enough to sing. Be Like That, by 3 Doors Down. "If I could be like that, I would give anything, Just to live one day, in those shoes. If I could be like that, what would I do? What would I do?" I smile, but I let her sing.

She really does have a good voice. You should hear it. And she should have more confidence in her voice. When she's finished I grin and tell her that. "Hmph," she huffs and I just smile and light another cigarette. "I owe you more than that though." Yeah, well. I wave my hand dismissively, creating a trail of smoke in front of me.

"Some other time. I'm knackered," I say, slouching into the sofa a bit. This is what I mean about tiredness catching up with you if you heal it away. It doesn't stay away for long, and it's about twice as bad when it does come back.

"What?" I look up at her, raising an eyebrow.

"What, what?" I ask, confused.

"What did you think I was on about?"

"I dunno, but whatever it is you're thinking about doing to make it up to me, it can wait. Unless you're gonna sing again."

"Would you like me to?"

"Actually, I kinda wanna play my guitar," I mumble through the smoke, wondering where my guitar actually is. I still can't believe she got me a Martin. And I don't even know where it is. What a shit head I am.

"You haven't brought it with you have you?"

"I got to the train station before you... Ah." I suddenly realise. She was going to drop it off at the apartment, wasn't she? And she didn't know I wasn't going to be there.

"Oh, great. Oh well. We'll go get it." she sighs and I grimace.

"Sorry," I mutter.

"What for? It's your guitar." I stare at her for a moment, incredulous.

"It's a Martin."

"I can buy another," she says and my incredulous look doesn't fade. I mean, sure even I can afford one, now, but...

"It was a gift, and I didn't take care of it, really," I look at the last pattern I made in the ashtray before crushing my cigarette butt into it and breaking the lines.

"Oh well," she smiles, "really, it doesn't matter that much." It does, but I'm really not in the mood for an argument, so I just shrug and smile. "I wasn't going to argue, I'm just saying if it's not intact when we find it I'll buy you another," she adds, hearing my thought.

"If it's not intact when we find it, I'll beat the shit out of whoever broke it." I mutter under my breath. You can't break a Martin. You just... can't. She shifts and winces, letting out an "ow". I glance at her questioningly.

"Stitches," she explains, and I nod. I would heal that, but I'm really too tired. "But really it's okay. It's just a guitar."

"You say that, but it's the best guitar I've ever had," I laugh, "and you were the one talking about seeing my soul when I play or whatever it was you said."

"That is in your heart not in your guitar. But I am too tired for this Luca. Today has been too hard," she sighs and I nod. I put the ashtray on the floor and crumple my now empty cigarette packet, dropping it into the tray.

"Yeah," I yawn and get up. "Let's go to bed," I mumble, holding out a hand to help her up. She takes my hand loosely and smiles.

"Thank you, Luca. I can't say that enough," she says as I pull her up onto her feet.

"You don't need to." I shrug as we walk up the stairs.

"You won't like me if I was to say what I wanted to..." I glance at her when we reach the top and instantly feel uncomfortable with our position, so close to falling straight back down. So I pull her away, further onto the landing and smile awkwardly, the door of her room opening for her.

"It's not that I don't like you for saying it. It's just hard to hear, sometimes. I don't really need to try and explain that anymore, though," I murmur sadly, waiting for her to say she wanted to go to bed.

And I get a short, fleeting urge to ask her to sleep in my bed.

I don't want to be alone.

She leans in slowly, giving me time to realise what she's doing before her lips brush against mine softly.

"I'm sorry." She smiles gently, standing in the doorway to her bedroom.

"S'ok," I shrug again and smile awkwardly. "Guess I'll see you when I wake up. Hope the stitches don't keep you awake," I turn to try and remember which room I picked earlier, then pause. "I'll heal them out later when I've had some sleep." I mutter and walk off into one of the bedrooms, not really caring if it was the one I picked out or not. It has a bed, and that's all I need. But having Gemme there too would be better.

The End

14 comments about this exercise Feed