A/N: I'm garbage, y'all, but I had a loooooot of shit go down in my life. Here's the next chapter though! I miss you all. xx
Indiana.
You can't expect the unexpected. Though, at this point in my life I feel like I should be able to.
It sneaks up on you. Kind of unsuspectingly and quiet. It never comes loudly. Not at first anyway.
I can already feel that something is off about today before I even get out of bed. The hard part is figuring out what it is. I've, for the most part, always been able to trust my intuition. The problem is that I often choose to ignore it.
I've chalked it up to feeling stir crazy since Thanksgiving. I need to get out of this house and do something, so I push the thought aside as I get dressed for the day.
Paul invited me to go with him to hang out with Jesse, but I figured he could use some guy time. Things have been tense between the two of us lately. Not because of him, but because of me. He walks on eggshells around me, and even though I hate the thought of it, I think we need a little space. I can't seem to let go of the fact that we'll never have what Sam and Emily have, or what Kim and Jared are about to have, and that it's my fault.
The more I think about it, the worse I feel, and the worse I feel, the more bitter I become. Then the more bitter I become, the harder he tries, and it's not even his fault. None of it is his fault. The fact that I don't even have a choice in this is what makes it so unfair. It'd be one thing if it was my decision, but it's not.
God, I have to get out of this house for a minute.
I pull on a raincoat and a pair of boots before hitting the road to Gene's. I'm sure Sue will let me take over for the day. She's been so kind to allow me time to recover, and even though I know Paul will probably be upset I'm walking there by myself, I just need to go somewhere.
The reservation is coated in a misty, foggy rain this morning. It's so thick that it's hard to see what's in front of me, but I manage to make it to the neighborhood without any casualties. Sue's car is in the driveway, along with another I don't recognize.
I almost walk in, but that feels a little invasive, so I knock instead.
The look on Sue's face when she opens the door says it all.
"Oh, Indie," she says softly.
I can feel it. I can feel it everywhere. In her gaze, in the mist, in the warm air escaping from the house – she doesn't even have to say it.
"He's not okay, is he?" I ask the question even though I already know the answer.
She gives me a sad look, and it's enough confirmation for me. "You don't have to be here for this. I'm sorry, I should've called and let you know."
I reach up and fidget with my necklace, letting my thumb trace over the curves. "Can I see him?"
Stepping to the side, she lets me in and closes the door behind us. "His health has declined very rapidly since the last time you saw him. I just want you to be prepared for that," she tells me, leading me down the hall and into the living room.
The table and couches have been removed to make room for medical equipment and a hospital bed. Gene is there, dressed in a generic hospital gown and covered with a thick layer of blankets, being tended to by another home aide. Sue's right. He barely even looks like himself. His skin is pale and sullen with a waxy sheen and he's so thin his cheeks are hollow. His braided hair is frayed and messy and there's too much silence between the beeping of his heart monitor.
My gut sinks.
He was terrible to Paul, but looking at him like this makes me feel sorry for him.
"Does Paul know?" I ask.
Sue nods. "I've been keeping him as updated as he wants to be."
There are things that Paul is good at hiding, and things I need to allow him to be good at hiding, for the sake of his own happiness.
This is one of those things.
"How much longer do you think?" I move into the kitchen and lean against the counter.
Her lips press into a thin line and she shakes her head. "Not much longer. His breathing has labored quite a bit. It could be a few hours, or it could be any minute."
I don't blame Paul for not wanting to be here, and I don't blame him for not wanting to talk to me about it. If he knew I was here right now, especially right now, he would feel like he has to be here when he doesn't want to be. Still, I have to tell him I'm here. I don't want to keep this a secret from him. I want him to know that whatever decision he makes about this situation, he has my support.
Sue moves to Gene's bedside to talk with the other aide and I pull my phone out, dialing Paul's number and walking down the hall.
He answers on the first ring. "Hey, you okay?"
I smile a little. "I'm fine," I reply, taking a seat on the stairs. "I, um… I'm at Gene's, with Sue."
He's silent for a moment. "Is he dead?"
"No," I swallow.
I hear him sigh and ask Jesse to give him a minute. "Sue said she thinks it'll be today."
Nodding, even though I know he can't see me, I push my tongue into my cheek and take a deep breath. "It looks that way…"
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he says quickly. "We just had our own shit and you had so much going on—"
"It's okay. I'm not upset," I explain. "I just wanted to make sure you knew where I was."
He sighs again. "I should be there with you."
"I love you," I tell him. "You don't have to be anywhere you don't want to be."
We sit on the phone for a little while, not really talking but not completely silent either. I'm fully aware that he can probably hear the heart monitor slowing even more over time, but I don't want to be the one to hang up first. I need to allow him to make the next move, whatever he chooses.
After fifteen minutes of listening to he and Jesse talk calmly in the background, I hear a car door and the engine of the 4Runner coming to life. "I'll see you in a few minutes, babe," he says. "I love you."
"I love you, too." My hand shakes a little as I pull the phone away from my face once the call is disconnected.
I decide to wait by the front door for him. The house smells too sterile — nothing like the thick aroma of coffee like before. I find myself propping the front door open, just a little, to let the fresh air reach my nose.
It feels like no time at all has passed when Paul pulls into the driveway. He climbs out of the 4Runner dressed in a pair of dark sweats and a long-sleeved shirt. I give him a small half-smile and open the door wider, and he walks through and immediately scoops me up into a warm hug.
I close my eyes and inhale his scent, holding my arms tight around his neck. "Hi," I whisper.
"Hi," he whispers back. His emotions pour into me and I have to bite my tongue to keep myself distracted from them. If I don't, I'll start crying, and he needs me to be the strong one for this.
He sets me back down on my feet and takes my hand, playing with my fingers and avoiding looking down the hall. "We can leave," I tell him, watching his face. "Go to Port Angeles for the day or something."
It surprises me when he shakes his head. I don't push it, though.
Sue joins us a moment later and puts her hand on Paul's shoulder. "Hi, Paul," she says sadly.
"Thanks for doing this, Sue," he replies, dropping my hand to give her a hug.
She hugs him back. "Of course."
When they separate, Paul grabs my hand again and leads me down the hallway and into the living room. He stops next to Gene's bed and stares down at him, his face vacant of emotion though his body spills his secrets. His stance is rigid, muscles taught as if he has to prepare to defend himself, and it makes me so sad. Even though he knows his father is no match for him anymore, his body still remembers the trauma it went through at his hands.
Gene's heart rate picks up a little bit, and even though he's been in a near-comatose state since I got here, and maybe even longer, his eyes start to flit beneath his eyelids. Sue and the other aide come to his bedside as well to check his vitals, and they are fussing with his monitor when his eyes suddenly squint open and zero in on Paul.
"Paul?" His voice is croaky and weak.
Paul doesn't say anything back, just freezes and watches as Gene tries to lift his hand towards him.
I curl my arm through Paul's for support.
"Paul, I—," Gene pauses and his brows fur together. "Paul, I'm so sorry."
Paul's chest heaves as his body ignites with anger. Before I have time to register what's happening, he's ripping away from me and storming down the hall.
"Paul, wait!" I call out, turning to chase after him, but Sue grabs my hand and shakes her head. I gently pull away from her and run down the hall, but he's already disappearing into the misty rain. "Paul!"
Behind me, I hear Gene's monitor flatline, and tears start rolling down my face when I hear a pained howl from somewhere in the mist.
"He ran off the rez," Sam says, dripping wet when he walks back inside he and Emily's house hours later.
Emily rubs my shoulders in a comforting manner. I've bitten my nails down to the point where it hurts, after having dug them so deep into my palms that I started bleeding. Josie cleaned them up and we took our places on the couch again while waiting for Sam to come back.
He ordered the other guys off and went to look for Paul on his own, but turned up with nothing.
I close my eyes. I know Paul needs time, but I'm worried about him. My stomach is tied together in knots and I have so much anxiety I can't stop fidgeting — biting my nails, bouncing my knees, chewing on my cheek.
"He'll be okay. He's our best fighter," Sam assures me, touching the top of my head before searching for a towel to dry off with.
It's not Paul's physical wellbeing that I'm worried about.
"I should go home and wait for him," I tell them, standing up to put my shoes back on.
Josie jumps up, too. "I'll wait with you."
I shake my head. "No, it's okay. He might avoid the house if someone else is there."
"You shouldn't be alone," she argues.
I walk to the front door. "I'll call you and leave it on speakerphone."
She sighs. "Well, at least let us drive you back."
The rain is now a complete downpour — a contrast to the misty-light rain earlier today. Emily drives slowly, wipers on full speed and still barely able to keep up with the rain. It reminds me of a few weeks ago when Paul and I went to the beach, and it was raining so hard he had to drive with his head out of the window.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
It's no surprise that when I walk inside, the house is empty. I dial Josie's number and put the call on speaker, carrying it through the house with me as I change into dry clothes and make some hot tea.
An hour passes, then two, then three, and all of the texts I've sent Paul remain unread. I think Josie fell asleep, because she hasn't said anything in a good forty-five minutes now. I haven't either, though, so maybe she thinks I'm the one that fell asleep. I don't know how I could possibly sleep not knowing where Paul is, much less sleep without him here with me.
Where would he have gone? Why would he go off the reservation? He could've just asked Sam and he would've made sure everyone left him alone.
Some small part of me is terrified he's gone after Malcolm, but I don't think he would do that.
Maybe he's in Port Angeles. Maybe he ran to Tacoma. Maybe he's sitting in a bar somewhere drowning in alcohol to try and numb himself.
There are a million places he could be.
But then one sticks in my mind.
I eye my phone cautiously, knowing that if Josie finds out I'm leaving the house she will freak out. I take it upstairs and into the bedroom, where the rain is the loudest, and leave it on the dresser. After that, I bundle up, hunt down a flashlight and leave quietly through the front door.
The only way I know how to get there is through the trail into town from Josie and Embry's. I use the flashlight until I can see their house, then cut it off so there's no chance it'll draw their attention, even though I know Embry can see in the dark like it's daytime.
All of their lights are off, though, so I think they're both asleep.
I walk as carefully as possible as to not splash in any puddles or break any sticks, and sneak by their house and onto the paved trail, switching the flashlight on again. The fact that it's pitch-black in these woods is the furthest thing on my mind. All I care about right now is finding Paul. I just need to see him — just need to be able to reach out and touch him with my fingertips.
It's harder to see that dirt trail with all of the rain, but I find it, thick with mud and a layer of standing water. I take it without hesitation, the muddy water circling my ankles.
It takes longer than I remember, maybe because my feet are suctioned into the mud with every step I take, but I finally come up on the stone bench. And Paul.
He doesn't look over, but I can feel his ease knowing it's me. I stay still for a moment, wondering if this is as far as I should go or if he wants me closer, before ultimately taking a few more steps towards him.
"Hi," I say softly, my voice covered by the thick rain. But I know he can still hear me.
I eventually take a seat next to him and he immediately lays his head on my shoulder, slumped and exhausted and covered in mud. I wish I would've brought an umbrella, but we're both already soaked anyways.
"Is he really dead, or did they try and bring him back?" he asks, his voice hoarse.
I breathe in through my nose. "He's really dead."
"Good," he hisses.
I'm not sure what to say to him, so I lean my cheek against his hair and rest my hands in my lap, the flashlight pointed to the sky.
He makes a huffing sound, filling up with anger again. "Can you believe he said that to me?" Then, he laughs. "Fuck that. He beats the shit out of me my whole life and gets to leave the world making me feel sorry for his ass?"
I press my lips together and squeeze my eyes shut. This is killing me. It's killing me because it's killing him, and I hate that he's experiencing this. Feeling his pain — I'd never wish it on anyone.
"Come on," I whimper, sliding out from under him and reaching for his hand. The light illuminates his face just enough that I can tell he's been crying, the tears mixing with the rain, but the sadness in his eyes unmistakable.
He doesn't budge.
I pull a little harder on his hand. "Let's go home, Paul," I beg. "Please. Come on."
His pain eases just a fraction, looking up at me with lost and confused eyes.
Leaning in, I kiss him and knot my fingers in the back of his hair, pressing urgency into his lips. "Please, let's go home. It's cold and it's dark and I'm scared." It may be unfair, using his weakness for me against him, but it works. He stands up and lets me drag him for a few steps, but then stops and tugs me against his chest.
"You're an idiot," he whispers, touching his forehead to mine. "If I wasn't so happy to see you, I'd be so pissed you walked out here alone."
It makes us both laugh a little. Small, sad laughs, but still laughs. "Take me home, then," I reply, lifting my chin to kiss him again.
By the time we make it home, we're sufficiently coated in mud and debris and the water is pouring off of us like faucets. We strip out of our clothes at the front door and use the rain to wash some of the mud off us. The floors are going to be a disaster, but I can worry about that in the morning. Right now all I'm worried about is Paul.
We walk hand in hand to the master bathroom and I turn the shower on and usher Paul in. I grab his shampoo and start working it between my hands and through his hair until it's a thick lather. He then drops to his knees and holds my hips while I rinse the soap out and reach for his body wash next.
Neither one of us says anything while we shower. We take turns washing each other and then stand under the hot water for an hour, just holding each other and bringing our body temps back up.
By the time the water starts turning cold, Paul is half asleep, leaning against the shower wall. I twist the water off and he jolts up.
"It was getting cold," I explain, opening the shower door to grab towels.
We dry off and make our way to the bed, sliding under the covers and tangling up in each other. He falls asleep in a matter of minutes, exhaustion taking over. I wonder how far he ran, and how long he was running for before he decided to turn back and sit on that bench.
I wiggle out of his arms and slip mine under his head. He moves to rest his cheek against my chest and then is out again in a split second. I stroke his hair softly and listen to his breaths, calm and slow and even.
It dawns on me then that I have no idea what I would do without him.
My life has taken so many turns and every single one of them led me here to him.
I was scared earlier, for a second, that he might not come back. That this reservation holds too much pain for him. And lying here with him clutching onto me in his sleep — the thought of not having him is unbearable. The fact that I've been distant from him and pushing him away seems absolutely ridiculous now. Guilt hits me. He needs me, too. He might even need me more than I need him, and he still allowed me to be cold to him because he knew I needed to process my feelings. He allowed me to do it my way, even though it hurt him.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to him, even though I know he's in a deep sleep. "I love you more than anything."
And I need him more than anything.
A/N: I think I made myself sad writing this. I'm also sad because this story is getting semi-close to an end. I've been brainstorming my next fanfic ideas, but what do you think I should write next? Another Paul x OC? A Jacob x OC? I have so many ideas!
Anyways, like I said, I miss you guys and I am going to work really hard to make sure the next chapter doesn't take a friggin month to put out. Thank you for sticking with me! xx!