4 Ro'Meaves - An Aphmau Fanfiction-Laurence x OC

Breath

Garroth's POV: 

I walk into Crim's room to find her crying on her bed. Crawled up in a ball. Confused. "C-Crim?" I ask quietly, hoping to get a response. She sniffles and looks up to meet my eyes, " Why, why m-me? Garroth? W-why did th-this happen t-to me? Out of the 7 b-billion people, this, h-happened to, m-me... " She makes a fair point. Out of ALL the people in the world, she is the ONLY one to EVER have had this condition. Gene isn't helping it either... I sit next to her and put my arm round her. " You'll be okay little sis. You already outlived the doctors' expectations. " She nods slightly and rests her head on my chest, hugging me tightly. I hug her back. We sit like this for a while and then Laurence comes in. " Crim! You're okay! " He sighs with relief and walks over to us. Crimson doesn't let go of me. I try to stand up. Crim's still on me though. Laurence walks up to her and prys her off my waist. They hug and I sit down in the chair next to the bed.

*-* 30 minutes later *-*

" I'm going to get some food, want anything? " I ask Laurence and Crimson. Crim looks up at Laurence and waits for him to respond. He looks back at her. " I'll pass. I think I'll stay here with Crim. " He replies to me. She smiles and nods in agreement.

Crimson's POV: 

I'm trying not to speak... I don't know exactly why but... My throat's been hurting, A LOT. When I talked to Garroth when he first came in, I was fine... But now, it feels like it's slowly closing in when I talk. ONLY when I talk though. Just sitting here I'm fine. Did Gene cast a spell on me? I remember reading about this in a book, but it was under the 'lost magic' section so nobody was suppose to know how to use it. But if that's the case, how does Gene know how to use it...? I'm so confused. My head begins to throb, apparently I'm overthinking it. I reach in the general direction of the pen and pad of notebook paper I have laying on my night stand. Garroth went to get food, so I'm hoping that Laurence notices my attempt. He does and gets the paper for me. I write out a sentence, hand shaking. ' Throat contracting Difficulty breathing Gene Spell Help. ' . He reads over the paper and grabs his phone. I don't know who he's calling. I know that the doctors don't believe that I'm still alive, therefore no help.