Author: TiKiElf
Title: Chances – Chapter 2
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Lizzie McGuire, any of the characters or the show. Please continue with regular day life.
Author's note: This is definitely a long shot coming. Sorry if it took so long for those who are interested to follow this story (which so far in none!). I'd like to thank all those who reviewed! You guys are like the demolisher when I ran straight on into a writer's block. Thank you for bringing down the wall! Drop by another review please! :o)
The green exit sign glared at him like a pair of hypnotic green eyes of a serpent from across the corridor, as the exit door tempts him to pound his fists at it and push his body through it. But somehow, he didn't move. He can't because that would be disrespectful. Not when her mother is there.
" Hey Gordo. When did you get back?"
He turned around, trying to pull the muscles in his cheek so that the tiniest of smile could be seen.
" Hey Mrs. McGuire. Just two hours ago actually."
There was a faint glimmer of pity and concern for him in her eyes, and he looked away ruefully.
" Does your parents know you're here? Wouldn't your parents be worried?"
The distress in her voice made him feel guilty for making her worry so much, when she has enough things on her mind. And he shook his head.
" No…"
He saw Miranda stepping away from the door curiously, and had walked into his line of view, just a little to Mrs. McGuire's left.
" But I was just going to call them and tell them I'll be late."
Miranda's eyes widen with surprise and he looked away; a dull pulsing anger was throbbing against his head.
" So… you're staying?"
He looked back at Mrs. McGuire and saw the desperate half-surprise and half-hopeful look on her face. The guilt that had been earlier stirred inside of him was now stretching farther away from his grasp of control. He felt obligated to stay; yet he was anxious to get away from it all, especially when he was strongly reminded of Lizzie's lively face whenever he looked at her mother. And without realizing what he was doing, his head bobbed up and down faintly as a yes, with a thin line of regret etched on his forehead.
" Oh… that would be wonderful! I'm sure Lizzie would love to see you when she wakes up. She had missed you so much over the summer. Wouldn't even let us use the telephone in case you called…."
Mrs. McGuire droned on hopefully that it was almost impossible not to cringe at the anxiousness in her voice. Gordo tried to listen and had smiled and nodded at the appropriate time, but he was barely registering what she was saying. Behind Mrs. McGuire, he met Miranda's dark eyes, and he knew that she was just as anxious as he was but as hopeful as Mrs. McGuire. And despite the uncertain and wobbly future that lay behind the door, they had shared a brief thin smile, knowing all to well when Mrs. McGuire was rambling.
"…in fact, why don't I just call up your parents for you, Gordo? I think it would be better for them to hear from an adult."
She smiled down at him and he tried to look as if he had been intently listening to her.
" Well… I don't mind but – "
Before he could protest modestly, Mrs. McGuire had quickly walked the little distance between them and had pulled him in a brief tight hug. Gordo, caught off guard at such motherly affection from her, exchanged an alarm look with Miranda – she had shrugged helplessly.
" I'm so glad you're here Gordo."
Her voice was thick with unshed tears and he knew without looking that her face would be red with the strain to keep her emotions in check – just like Lizzie.
She let go of him and gave out a sniffle, as he nodded feebly and had tried to give a reassuring smile without meeting her eyes – Lizzie had gotten her beautiful eyes from her too.
" Well… uh… I think I should call my parents. They would want to hear from me," he said weakly, not tearing his eyes away from the white marble floor beneath his shoe. He had resumed his pace down the corridor without waiting for Mrs. McGuire reply, turning his back to her, Miranda and the room; with both hands stuck deep in his cargo pants pockets, head bent low and his shaggy black hair draping his forehead, hiding his eyes.
He walked the length of the corridor aimlessly, not knowing where to go or where the nearest public phones were (he might as well call them now) when his eyes caught sight of the green exit sign again. It flashes at him mockingly, as if taunting him of his failure to escape from the place and the horrible truth that lies in his comatose best friend. He glared back at it longingly before turning a sharp left to another corridor that leads to the nurse's station and the vending machine: he could ask the nurse for direction and buy himself a chocolate bar.
When he had reached the nurse's station, it was bare of any white-uniformed clad women. Grumblingly, he made his way to the vending machine only to discover that it was out of order. He cried out through gritted teeth at the machine, pounding it with his fists in hope that perhaps it could be restored to order. Of course it didn't, but the pain that was now shooting through his bruised fists had been… comforting. He banged at the machine with his fists again, kicking it with all his might and slamming his body against it until he felt physically drained. He was angry. Angry at the world for making some lousy machines, at the inefficiency of nurses' services… and also for letting Lizzie go through what she has to now – devoid of the life in her that he so much adored – and threaten to take her away from her family, her life and him. It would've been selfish of him to say that but she's what matters to him. He had never tried to imagine a day without her existence beside him for all his life, but having to consider it? It was a pain – a heart-depth pain.
Without realizing it, the tears pooled in his eyes once again, brimming to the edge of his eyelids and barely a blink away from a trail down his face. He leaned his forehead against the cool metal of the vending machine… and blinked. It would've been useless to try to act like a man now, if he had to act as unfeeling as one as well.
