It Hurts | ✓

Chapter 11

George's POV

I was surprised my parents took it that well.

I was expecting, "You're dating a girl and she's not even your soulmate?"

Thankfully, it wasn't anything like that. Otherwise I wouldn't be sitting in the cramped backseat of my dad's car on the way to the doctor's. It was a good idea, really. My parents didn't just say, "well you mustn't really like her," because they understood that I did.

They passed it off onto some problem with my vision. I don't know why I didn't think of it like that before. It probably was just false hope growing in my mind, but I hoped it anyway.

The building was impeccably neat. Pristine white walls, gleaming interior; the place felt almost too perfect. It was weird. This was why I hated hospitals. Always had. I hated posh places. Might've explained my bedroom and the state it was in.

I had also always hated elevators, but there were no stairs. I piled into the tiny lift with my mother and father, and watched intently as the sliding doors shut, trapping me inside the small box, resisting the urge to throw up.

I was glad the receptionist at least wasn't as polished as the building. Her hair looked as though it hadn't been brushed for days, she was chewing gum very loudly, and spoke not at all posh, which in an odd sort of way I was thankful for. It was rather comical to see the contrast between the woman's personality and her place of work.

The doctor came out to meet us soon enough. I was tired of waiting in the children's waiting room. For god's sake, I was old enough to not find an interest in little wooden trains and six-piece puzzles.

I hated being treated like a kid.

It compelled me how the handful of children in the room were playing so nicely. There was barely a sound from them. No shouts or banging as little children often did, and I found it weird. Maybe they sensed like I did that you couldn't, or didn't want to break the awkward, weird, silence that came with doctors' waiting rooms.

The doctor most certainly reflected the likes of the building, and not the manners of the receptionist. I imagined that if I were to pinch my nose and speak, I would sound similar to the doctor's pitch.

I thought if Amber was here, she would've laughed at that. It made me sad to think that, and I missed her terribly, although I had only seen her the day before. Was that really what you felt towards those you didn't really like?

It brought me a little more hope over the sliver of a chance I had to prove that Amber was my soulmate after all.

I hated all the tests and reading and torches shone in my eyes. I certainly didn't like the annoying doctor's face inches away from mine as he inspected my eyes. We hadn't been to a check-up at the opticians in a hell of a long time, so it all felt very new to me; I didn't remember the procedure.

Finally, we were all sat down, and the look on the man's face was what caused all my built-up hope to come crashing down. Usually it was a good thing that nothing was wrong with your eyes, except in my case, I was hoping and praying that it was something wrong. The doctors' face was the complete look I didn't want. Satisfied.

"I'm sorry to inform you, that your son is fully colourblind," he informed my parents.

Did I hear that right?

"Now, this isn't too much of an issue, and nothing can be done, so I suggest you ignore it. In any case, in this crazy world we live in, what does colour matter, eh?" He said, amused. I was not.

His facial expression did not match the news he was giving us, in a normal person's opinion. Maybe he was just a rude person.

Or maybe I was just terrible at reading faces or emotions. Amber would probably tell me it was the latter.

I called Amber in the car.

"Hey, what's up?" Her voice came from the end of the line. I smiled just hearing her voice, I didn't know why.

"Not much, just been at the doctor's," I said as nonchalantly as I could.

Her tone became worried. "Why? Are you alright?" I couldn't help but smile at her caring nature, that she was instantly worried for me.

"Well, basically I found something out, kinda important." I toyed with the fact that she was concerned; I felt it would be an even better way for her to receive the news.

"What?" She demanded.

"I'm completely colourblind." I couldn't help but grin.

"What? But you mean- You're saying- That means-" she stuttered, as the realisation hit her immediately. She was pretty smart, too.

Then there was an audible quiet, before the line went dead, and I burst out laughing. That was such an Amber way to react.

I suppose the world wasn't being too cruel after all.

So se were meant to be in the end. We solidly believed the world had denied it, but it was true: Amber was my soulmate, and that was the best thing in the world.