Chapter 9: Connection

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Is there anybody out there who
Is lost and hurt and lonely too
Are they bleeding all your colours into one?
and if you come undone
As if you've been run through
Some catapult it fired you
You wonder if your chance will ever come
Or if you're stuck in square one

- Square One, Coldplay

She was finally let out of her bed. Finally. She couldn't stand to be in that damn bed any longer. In that damned bed where she had cried so many tears. Found out so many horrible things. That damned bed.

She sat by the bay window in her empty house. It was silent, and she just sat looking out into the pouring rain. She opened the window, a desire to feel the pelting rain overcoming her. She raised her hand slowly, rubbing her fingers together. Feeling the warmth of her skin. She stuck her hand out of the window, feeling the icy drops of rain. It was cold. Cold like her mom. Cold like her dad. A tear slipped down her cheek. It was wet. Wet like her. The clouds were crying. She was crying.

She looked up to the sky. It was dark. Dark like her emotions. Dark like her.

She withdrew her hand back inside the window, slowly closing it. Closing herself from the elements. The storm that showed exactly who she was right now.

She sighed as a knock hit the door. "Come in…" she said dully.

It was Phil.

"I thought I told you to go away two days ago after that fight."

"You did."

"I thought I told you and Greg not to ever come back until I said you could."

"You did."

"I thought I…"

"Yes, you thought, and I obviously ignored it."

"Hmph…" Keely turned her head away. "What are you doing here then?"

"I know I'm not exactly anyone's favorite person…"

Keely remained silent.

"… and you may believe that I was way out of line the other day."

Keely nodded, but refused to look at him.

"But I stand by every word I said, though maybe I didn't need so many fucks."

Keely looked over at him, her expression somber. She drummed the armrest of her chair with her fingers. "You can sit," she said slowly.

Phil smiled slightly, and he lowered himself into a chair next to her. "So when do you get out of this death trap?" he asked, referring to the hospital.

"Tomorrow," Keely replied, nonchalantly, she looked away, back into the dark of the storm.

"How long are you stuck in that thing?" he asked, looking at the wheelchair and leg cast she was currently stuck in.

"This thing?" she looked down, "about five-six weeks."

"You're going to need some help then, aren't you?"

Keely shrugged, acting emotionless. "Yeah."

"Do… do… do you want my help?"

"You don't need to. I can get Jess to help me, and Greg, once I forgive him for the fight you two had."

"Have you forgiven me?"

Keely looked at him closely, thinking of the scene that had unfolded. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because you two were about to punch each other out. I've seen enough pain. I've seen enough hurt in this hospital. I didn't want to see anymore from the two of you."

Phil just inhaled.

"But… you were also right about what you said two days ago." She laughed bitterly. "Isn't that weird? You got into a fight with my boyfriend and I'm telling you that you're right?"

"It's not so crazy…"

"Isn't it?"

"You don't always have to agree with Greg."

"But I do, and when I'm suppose to need him the most, I don't side with him. I don't think that he's right."

"Mmm…"

"I mean, he was trying to make me feel better, and though I feel like I'm suppose to appreciate that… I really don't. I just… it was just… as if…"

"You want to cry. You want to be sad. And you don't want to f… you don't want to be Ms. Happy-Smiles."

"Yeah…" Keely agreed softly.

"And you can't push the pain away," Phil continued, "it doesn't fucking go away. It'll always be there. And people shouldn't fucking tell you to move on, to get over it. It'll always be there, and people should fucking understand that. They always find these fucking 'silver linings' that are suppose to make us fucking feel better. But I don't see it. All I see is that they're gone. And no amount of fucking 'silver linings' is going to make me get over them being gone. Because they are gone; they're fucking gone."

As the tears streamed down her face, Phil quietly raised his hand up to his own eyes, delicately wiping each one until they were dry.

She sniffled, "You can cry, Phil. I'm crying."

"I don't need to."

"Phil…"

"I said that I don't need to," he snapped.

"You just said yourself…"

"I know…" Phil's eyes flashed, "and I'm a hypocrite. What I've said has been in the back of my mind for such a long time." He sniffled, falling silent for a moment before continuing, "I've gone so long without letting myself cry. I always told myself that I must be weak, that because I want to cry I must be weak. So I never let myself cry." Phil felt a tear fall down his cheek. "Then… then you lost all of your family. And then you cried. And then you stopped and you tried to stop yourself. It was like watching me. And in the back of my mind, I knew. I knew that you were suppose to cry. I think… watching you helped me finally realize that. That it was okay to cry." The tears slipped down his cheeks.

He lifted his hand instinctively, as if to wipe his face of any evidence, but then he lowered it down. He looked at Keely, and saw the silent tears drop from her eyes.

He dropped his eyes, breathing out slowly, his heart throbbing. He looked over again, surprised to find her eyes looking into his. "Keely…" he whispered.

"Yeah?" she whispered back.

He stared at her face, the contour of her cheeks. The finesse of her nose. The glow of her eyes; her watery eyes. She looked beautiful, yet so broken. A broken angel. What a thought. He reached a hand up, cupping her face gently. He breathed softly and leaned in, touching his lips to hers.

A shock ran down his spine. A shock ran down hers. He deepened the kiss, pouring his soul in through the touch.

It felt so right… yet so wrong. Her eyes fluttered open, and she saw the rich brown coloring of his eyes, instead of a bright blue. His gentle, yet firm and needy lips pressed against her lips rather then the soft and slow kisses that she usually knew. It felt so right… yet so wrong. She felt her hands find his chest and she pushed him away.

"What the heck, Phil?" she screamed, "What the heck?!"

Phil looked at her warily, his eyes searching hers.

"I have a boyfriend," she shrieked, "I have Greg!"

He bit his lip. "But Keely…"

"What gives you any right to kiss me like that?"

"I needed…"

"Get out!" she screamed, the tears crashing down now.

"Keely… I…" He stood up.

"Get away from me, just get away."

"I needed to know, okay! I just needed to know!"

Her breaths came out in angry gasps. "What? What did you need to know?"

"What… what it felt like… to kiss you."

She looked down. "Get out Phil," she yelled, taking a breath. "Just get out… go away… I don't want to see you anymore…" she whispered.

He backed away slowly, stopping at the door, his eyes glued to her, "Didn't you feel the connection, Keels… didn't you feel it?" He turned walking out of her door.

She sobbed harder, a lump forming in her throat. He called her Keels. Her family called her Keels. Her family that was gone. But what was even scarier… was that in her heart she knew that she did feel that connection. That damned connection.

… But what about her perfect Greg?

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