Accolade

trente trois

trigger warning: sensitive content

Suddenly, I couldn't sleep. 

My mind kept replaying what Warren had said a few hours ago. I know that River assured me that he didn't mean what he said but how could I be sure? They say that drunk words are sober thoughts, and pain makes people admit their feelings. It bothered me and it kept me awake. 

Auden tried to get me to eat some more and I couldn't stomach the thought of it. 

My eyes remained on that door. 

Until it finally opened. 

There was dead silence beside the occasional whir of the pump filling my veins. I stopped breathing as Warren stepped into the room. His appearance had changed drastically since he had left. He looked like he had gone through hell. I saw reddness in his cheeks where he had been continuously wiping away tears. 

River stood. My gaze drifted to the movement. My oldest brother was as still as a statue but he must have read something nonverbally because his fists uncurled and he strolled to Warren's side. They exchanged words I could not hear. 

River then glanced at Auden and nodded his head toward the door. I felt my heart skip a beat as Auden wordlessly left my side and both of them stepped out. The door quietly clicked shut and then it was only the two of us. Warren remained at a distance.

I hated the silence.

"I know that you're angry," I started quietly, fighting to reign in my own emotions that wanted to bubble up, "I know that you think I should continue, for the minuscule hope that I'll make it. I've been trying to understand why you said what you did but I need you to hear me when I say this..." I took a deep breath and met his dark eyes, "I am tired and I know that my battle is over. I feel it, nothing is going to work for me. I am not giving up but I am too tired to continue and I want you to understand that. Think what you want but this is the truth."

Every day since my diagnosis, I had been losing. I had just never wanted to admit it.

His silence drew cold prickles over my skin as he observed me. Only the motion of his jaw clenching gave me any indication that he was truly present, his eyes did not drift away as they so often did. Finally, he spoke. "So that's it?"

"Yes," I said, sucking in a shaky breath, and admitting that this was final. My decision could not be unmade. For some reason, when he said nothing more than those three words, I felt a horrid rush of emotion. Had he given up on me? Was he angry? Did he understand? 

I dissolved with the stress of not knowing, and tears freely flowed down my cheeks. It was hard enough to admit that out loud but his silence was the true killer. I closed my eyes and pressed my face into my hands.

I couldn't bear to see if he was sick of me, if something akin to resentment rested on his features. I just hoped he would let me be in my misery and keep his hurtful words to himself when I was already hurting. He always stormed off when things got heavy. Imagine my surprise when he didn't.

Suddenly, I heard movement. A chair being pushed aside, the railing dropping, and then the weight of another body next to me. I nearly jumped when gentle hands grasped my forearms. 

I glanced up with blurry vision and Warren was waging a battle with his own emotions. He didn't speak. He awkwardly wrapped my arms around his torso, almost as when we had ridden his motorcycle weeks ago. I accepted the unspoken attempt to provide comfort and latched onto him.