Robbie takes me upstairs to the little health clinic that I know most Duane Reade stores have, for things like flu shots and blood pressure tests- stuff that you need a professional to do for you, but not really serious things that you have to go to the trouble of making a doctor's appointment for. Placing his hand on my shoulder, he guides me onto a bench, then approaches the plump, smiling blonde woman behind the counter several feet away.

"Afternoon," he greets her.

"Afternoon, Robbie," she replies, beaming at him. A nametag prominently displayed on her starched lapel tells me that her name is Fiona. "Who's this?" she asks, nodding to me.

"That's my friend, Beck," he tells her, and I raise my uninjured left hand in a half-hearted wave. "He's cut the hell out of his hand, and I was hoping you could check it out for him."

Fiona peers over at me, her eyes widening when she sees the bloody washcloth I've got clenched around my fist. "Of course, of course I can," she fusses, coming out from behind the counter. She kinda reminds me of my mother. "Come with me."

We fall in line behind her and follow her to a small room in the back, where she directs me to sit in a plastic chair before leaving to go get a few things. Robbie drops himself into the seat beside me, checking his phone and shooting a quick text to Cat while I glance around my new surroundings. Judging from all the weird diagrams on the wall and the selection of otoscopes laying on top of one of the cabinets, this is where they usually do hearing tests.

"Dude?" I whisper, just in case Fiona is back within earshot.

"Hmm?" he asks.

"Are you... are you sure she can help?" I've always hated anything related to doctors, so this is making me more than a little nervous, but I can't exactly tell Robbie that without seeming like a complete and total wimp. I shift my weight uncomfortably in my hard plastic chair, peering through the open door to make sure the coast is clear before continuing. "Don't get me wrong, she seems... nice and all, but this isn't exactly... I mean, I'm pretty sure all they do here is give flu shots and fit hearing aids. That's not exactly difficult stuff. How do you know she knows what she's doing?"

Robbie rolls his eyes as he locks his phone and pushes it back into his pocket. "Doing all that stuff might not be difficult," he agrees, "But it doesn't mean you don't have to be qualified. Fiona's a registered nurse, and she used to be an EMT. You're in good hands, dude. Don't be such a pansy." I must not look very convinced, because he nudges my knee in a way I guess he thinks is comforting. "It'll be fine, Beck," he says softly, elbowing me in the side. "She's gonna take good care of you. Promise."

I swallow hard and nod, more to myself than to him, and a few seconds later, Fiona walks back into the room, carrying the largest first-aid kit I think I've ever seen. She sets it on the counter beside the otoscopes, undoing the latches and rifling through it for a second until she finds a pair of rubber gloves, which she deftly snaps onto her hands before turning to me.

"So, you hurt yourself pretty bad, didn't you, Beck?" she asks conversationally, motioning for me to hold out my hand.

"Yeah," I reply. I can't help but wince as she unwraps the washcloth; it had been stuck to my skin with dried blood. "I had a little accident with some broken glass."

I hear a snicker from beside me, and when I turn to Robbie, I find him fighting back a grin, his mouth open and poised to say something. "Dude," I say sharply, "I swear to God, if you start singing that stupid fucking song-" My words are cut off by a gasp of pain; Fiona's ripped open an alcohol swab and is briskly cleaning my wounds with it.

"-I still think it had potential," Robbie cuts in, folding his arms across his chest. "It was miles better than that 'Favorite Foods' bullshit Andre came up with."

"Dude, that was like five years ago. I think it's time to move on."

"I'll move on when my song gets the credit it deserves."

"Yeah, I'm sure five year olds would have loved to have been serenaded with a song about the dangers of broken glass instead of one about their favorite foods."

"It was educational!"

"It was morbid!"

"You wanna talk 'morbid'? Whose girlfriend was it, again, who wrote a play about a girl falling down a well?"

I had been laughing as we had our little back and forth, but it dries up and catches in my throat. I try to smile and laugh it off, but I just can't, and judging by the look on Robbie's face, he knows he's gone too far. I look away from him, concentrating on the pattern of the tiles in the floor, and I can't help but wish I could sink right into them and disappear. Fiona, who had been biting back giggles herself, simply carries on with her work, using a small pair of tweezers to carefully pluck out some bits of glass that I'd missed, and to her immense credit she doesn't question the sudden awkward silence that has filled the room.

"I'm done cleaning this," she tells me, straightening up and tossing the used alcohol swabs and glass shards into the trashcan, "but you're gonna need some stitches."

I feel a rush of panic start to course through my veins- I absolutely hate needles. "Are you sure?" I ask, trying to keep my voice from sounding squeaky. "C-can't you just, I don't know, slap a good bandage on there and call it a day?"

"Not unless you want to keep bleeding all over the place," she snorts, pulling her gloves off. "You did a pretty impressive job of hacking yourself up on that glass, and since it's in such a high motion area of the hand, it's important that it heals properly. You don't want any more scar tissue than necessary, believe me. I'll go grab some numbing spray from downstairs to make it a little more comfortable for you, though. I'll be right back." And just like that, she's gone again.

Robbie and I sit in the uncomfortable quiet for a few minutes, neither of us sure how to break the tension that has settled between us. Finally, he clears his throat, and whispers "Sorry" under his breath.

I nod and sigh, resting my forehead in my good hand, my elbow propped on my knee. "I know, Rob, you didn't mean anything by it," I assure him.

He nods. "Yeah, I just forgot, you know... I mean, I just saw her the other day with Cat. We went to lunch together." His arms unfold, hands clapping to his denim-covered knees. "It's strange to think that she's just..." he trails off.

"Gone?" I offer.

Robbie nods again, slower this time, his Adam's apple bobbing under the pale skin of his neck. "Yeah."

I push a breath through my lips in a low hiss, not sure how to respond. He had upset me, but I can't expect him to walk on eggshells around me, policing everything he says to make sure that no mention of Jade ever occurs. After all, it's not like he's done anything wrong. The screwup title is mine for the keeping. "Look, um, don't worry about it, okay?" I tell him, raking my hair away from my face. "I know you didn't mean anything by it. We were just joking around. No harm, no foul." I sit back up and rest my head against the wall before turning to look at him. "Besides," I chuckle, "You have a point. That play she wrote? That was a little morbid."

"More than a little, I think," he says cautiously, testing the waters to make sure that he doesn't go overboard. "And that's not even counting the one about the clown and the parachute."

I allow myself to laugh at that, remembering the play he's talking about: Jade had written it for her creative theatre class junior year. "Yeah, she was pretty proud of that one," I agree. She really had been, too. She'd spent days poring over that script, writing and editing and rewriting until it was finally satisfactory to her. She had been so excited to give me her final draft to read; so completely jazzed to hear what I thought about this chaotic thing she'd poured her heart and soul into, and I just... didn't get it. "I never really understood what she was trying accomplish with that one," I admit to Robbie, crossing my ankles. "But I never told her that. I couldn't be the one to bring her down." I shake my head. "Of course, Tori's little Prome did a pretty good job of that."

"But Jade was there, right?" Robbie asks. "She got her revenge for that; she played that creepy slideshow, and had that guy in the diaper-"

"Yeah," I reply, "And after she did all that, she spent the entire night crying in my trailer and cutting her libretto into confetti with those scissors Cat got her."

Robbie's face softens. "Really?"

I nod.

"Why?"

"Her dad was supposed to come see it that night. He never really supported her being so into theater- he's a businessman, sees everything in black and white- so she was always trying to prove herself to him, to show him that she had talent and merit, and maybe make him appreciate her a little more. And after she'd spent so much time writing it, and went to the trouble scheduling it six months in advance for a weekend she knew he'd be in town, he never even got to see that play. It just crushed her."

Robbie eyes me, an expression of empathy playing across his face.

"You know," I muse, more to myself than to him, "As much as she'd like you to think so, Jade wasn't all arsenic and razor blades. She had her soft side; she could feel and hurt just like anybody else." I sigh, realizing just how true it is, and just like that, I'm lost in my thoughts again.

Jade had always had this fierce facade about her that she'd spent ages constructing. She was constantly playing it up, trying desperately to seem invincible so she could mask the real kindness and compassion that lay deep inside her. She never let anyone get too close, keeping a solid poker face so she wouldn't get hurt, either by her father's indifference or by people who just didn't understand her and mistook her passionate nature for strangeness. It had literally taken me years to break her defenses down. For some reason, I'd been her exception. She'd let me in. Jade had pulled back the curtain and shown me her most sheltered and tender parts. She had given me all of her, provided me with all the information and tools and ammunition that anyone would ever need to irreparably damage her, but did so because she believed that I wouldn't do that.

She'd loved me. She'd put her heart in my hands and trusted me not to break it. And that's exactly what I did.

I've known this for awhile, of course. Every day for over a year, I've had to live with the knowledge that I hurt the girl I loved. It's a common feeling for me now. I'm used to it. But just because you're used to something, that doesn't mean you like it, and it sure as hell doesn't mean it hurts any less. If anything, it hurts more; the pain increasing day by day, taking over your entire being like an infection. I could bear it at first. I could manage to swallow it down and go about my life, shitty and meaningless as it was. Is. But now that she's gone, it's thrown an entirely new factor into the equation: uncertainty. I don't know if I'll ever get her to listen to me; to do everything in my power to fix it. Hell, I don't even know if I'll be able to find her, much less repair our shattered relationship, and that just... that just kills me.

I sit back in my hard plastic chair, grinding my teeth against the throbbing in my hand, staring into the bright fluorescent lights to try and quell the burning sensation in my eyes. I can feel Robbie's worried gaze on me, and I'm not surprised: I haven't spoken in several minutes.

"Beck?" he asks tentatively.

I give my head a slight shake, and he's quiet again. Robbie's always been pretty perceptive, a quality I used to find completely irritating in him, but one that I'm more than grateful for now.

Fiona comes back with a particularly frightening-looking aerosol can, a large, crimson cross emblazoned on the front of it. I can't help but think of blood when I see it. She places it on the counter beside the sink to wash her hands and snap another pair of gloves back on.

"This'll feel a little cold," she warns me, taking my hand and removing the can's cap, "but it shouldn't hurt too much." She nods to Robbie. "If you want, you can hold his hand while I do the stitches. Squeezing something usually helps take your mind off the pain."

Pain. I shiver a little in spite of myself. I know that feeling all too well.

I start to shake my head in dissent to Fiona's suggestion, but Robbie's already slipped his hand in mine. I give him a weird look.

"What?" he asks in his old puppet, Rex's, voice. "I'm secure!"

"Just seems a little weird that, less than an hour ago, you were pummeling the shit out of me downstairs, and now you're up here holding my hand while I get stitches," I mutter.

He snorts. "Stitches fucking hurt, Beck, even with that numbing crap." Fiona nods. "Trust me, dude, you'll thank me for this later."

"You will," Fiona agrees. "And I promise I won't tell anyone about this," she adds sarcastically, threading her needle. "Ready?"

I'm not, but I nod anyway. I can't help but let out a little grunt as the needle pierces my skin. My cuts aren't especially long, but they are kinda deep, and there's a lot of them. I know I'm in for a rough time. I wince and squeeze Robbie's hand. His knuckles are mottled white and purple, and I know that I have to be hurting him, but he just lets me do it, not saying a word as I all but crush his fingers into dust.

At some point during the stitching session, the tears that had been burning my eyes spring free and roll down my cheeks. Robbie taps my shoulder, making me look him in the face. I expect him to mock me or something, because crying is definitely not the manliest thing to do, but he just solemnly locks eyes with me. After a moment, he leans over and whispers in my ear, low enough that Fiona can't hear: "It'll be okay." And I know he's not just talking about my hand. He's talking about everything.

I nod and swallow, looking down to watch Fiona carefully piece my skin back together, and I wonder if maybe I can find a way to do the same with my heart.

Author's Note

I'm so sorry that this update took me so long! I was so busy with finals and moving out of my dorm and back home, and on top of all that, my roommate accidentally took home one of boxes- and of course it was the one that had all of my fanfiction notes and outlines in it. It took me longer than I expected to get it back, but I'll make it up to you guys, I promise.

The story will really be picking up in the next chapter and the ones after that, so stay tuned! Also, if you favorite or subscribe or even just read, please consider leaving a review. I really do love reading them. :)