A/N: Hello! Wow, I am so sorry for how long this has taken me to update! Whew, anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter :) I think I'm back on track with my writing, yay.
Him.
Logan...
My chest tightens and the thwacking of my heart vigorously assaults the brittle bones of my rib cage. I can't begin to count on one hand the amount of times I've wished for it to break free of its confines. For my heart to grow wings and fly away, never to return to this dying and ugly cell it once called home. Perhaps a few broken ribs would be less painful than the agony in my lungs... Would it numb the feeling of utter depression and disappointment my heart is brimmed with? Or would it create a hollow gap for something much more sinister to reside?
Broken ribs and no heart would be heaven to me right about now. But there are no puppies or kittens greeting me at shiny golden gates. No cookies on a silver patter. No relief to the never ending cycle to this coughing loop I'm enduring. Instead, I find myself standing somewhere in-between - a veil between life and death... purgatory, maybe? Somewhere painful. A place to suffer slowly while others relish in life.
The burning tickle at the back of my throat forces me out of my wallowing. It's like a fiery rage bubbling up from my stomach, to then sizzle at the back of my throat. I fight and push the urge to hack up a half wilted rose down, down, down. My lungs are lead balloons, constricted and unnaturally heavy, weighing me down until rock-bottom welcomes me.
"Patton, may I come in?"
My fingers curl around the blood covered bed sheets, as whimpers threaten their way to my lips. His voice is like caramel, soft, smooth and almost sickeningly attractive. I clutch at my bare and aching chest, whimpering as a small trail of wetness dribbles from the corners of my mouth.
He can't know.
He can't see me like this.
Will he even notice?
Will he even care?
I wonder if he'll notice how dark the room is... It's like the life has been completely sucked out of it. Because that is exactly what is happening to me. All because I can't help my feelings for someone who doesn't give me a second glance. Who thinks I'm stupid and childish, icky and emotional.
"I have a few concerns which have been brought to my attention, and I wish to discuss them." He clears his throat and I hear his feet shuffle a couple of times. Anxiety as well as pain circle my stomach like angry sharks. "It's rather important, actually."
"Ah... juh-just a minute, Logan -" I wince at the sound of my own voice; hoarse and barely used aside from coughing. A Part of me wishes he noticed my gasp of agony. A part of me wishes he'll ask if I'm all right. That he cares for my well being, my health. That he'll say something. Anything.
He doesn't.
Sniffling, I peel myself from the bed and haul on my cat onesie, pulling up the hood to hide the dried blood matting my curls. I use the sleeve to wipe the sides of my mouth, not caring too much about getting it dirty. What is the point? I won't be needing it soon anyway...
Flowers are killing you, Patton.
Your feelings are the death of you.
Logan is the reason you're dying.
You love him and it's killing you.
Shh... he doesn't need to know.
He won't care.
He doesn't have to.
Another small, curt, knock pulls me out of my worry. I gulp down petals, blood and bile as my unsteady legs carry me to the door.
I'm fine.
I have to be fine.
Even if he won't notice.
Before I manage to compose myself, my nimble and numb fingers push down the handle and open the door.
"Gosh, you look awful."