tears in the rain | the weeknd

nine

Aria

Nervousness takes over as I pull up outside mine and Abel's house.

After getting out of the hospital, I couldn't bring myself to drivw at all, since I constantly thought about the accident.

But then my parents told me that I'd have to get over the fear one day or another, which kind of woke me up and made me agree with them.

I turn to face Abel now to find that he's staring at our house, eyebrows scrunched together.

I clear my throat. "Do you, um, remember this house?" I want to know, fingers drumming against the steering wheel.

He shakes his head. "No," he answers and then turns to face me.

I smile at him. "It's okay," I tell him in a soft voice. I place my hand on top of his and squeeze it.

Abel's eyes fall onto our hands and then he slowly pulls his hand away from under my grasp, making my heart shatter into pieces.

I push the sadness out and quickly get out the car, biting back the tears.

I really have to stop getting emotional - it's not like Abel will be like this forever, even if it feels like it.

I just hate that it may take a couple of months for him to regain his memories.

I can't wait for that day to come.

Abel gets out the car and I grab his bag from the back of the car. "I can hold it," he says, trying to grab the bag from me.

I shake my head. "It's okay," I reply. "I got it."

Grabbing the keys from my bag, I insert it in the lock and twist it, pushing it open with my hand.

I allow Abel to step into the house first, watching his every movement as he takes in the surroundings around him, probably trying to remember.

I want to ask him if he remembers the house now that he's inside, but I don't want to annoy him by asking him the same question over and over again.

Abel turns to face me. "Um, where's my bedroom?" he asks.

I smile at him. "Follow me," I say, starting to go up the stairs, with Abel trailing behind slowly.

We get to our bedroom and Abel turns to face me after he inspects the room. He frowns. "Are we sleeping in the same bed?" he wants to know.

My heart aches and I bite down at my lip. "Um," I start to say. "I could always take the guest bedroom and you can take this room, if you want?"

Abel studies my face silently, clearly debating with himself in that confused mind of his. "Well, I don't really know you . . ." he starts to explain. "And it'd be weird if we shared the same bed, so yeah . . ."

I sigh heavily, feeling myself get slightly frustrated with his words.

But then I remember that it's not his fault and that he won't be like this forever.

I nod slowly now. "Okay," I say. "I'll stay in the guest bedroom. I'll, um, leave you to get settled in, okay?"

I start to walk towards the front door, but Abel grabs me and pulls me back. "You should stay in here instead of the guest bedroom," he tells me. "After all, this is your room."

I shrug. "It's as much yours as it is mine," I say, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

I smile at him before letting go of his hand and walking out the bedroom, leaving Abel to get comfortable.

A part of me wishes that some type of memory will come to him while he's staying in that room - us having late night conversations, getting dressed. Anything.

I'm surprised that he even told the doctors that he wanted to come back with me and not with his Mum.

Sighing, I look down at my engagement ring as I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen.

My finger brushes against the diamond and the memory of Abel proposing comes to mind, making a lump form in my throat.

I quickly clear my throat once I hear footsteps emerging. I turn to look at Abel. "Is the room okay?" I ask.

He nods. "Yeah?" He answers. "Thank you."

"No problem," I reply. "Is there anything particular you want me to make for dinner? I can make your favourite?"

Abel squints and tilts his head, frowning. "What is my favourite?" he wants to know.

"Steak," I answer, starting to get out the food.

"Okay," he says. "I'll help you." He pulls up his sleeves.

"No, it's fine!" I exclaim. "Honestly. I can do it."

Abel scoffs and shakes his head. "I want to help," he says. "Um, where's the knife?"

"The first draw to your right," I say and watch as he opens the draw and brings out a sharp knife.

A nauseous feeling runs through me as I watch Abel handle the knife.

Once I'm sure that he'll be fine using it, I turn my attention back to what I'm doing.

"Ouch!" Abel yelps out in pain and I quickly rush over to him to find that he's cut his finger a little.

"Here, put it under the water," I say softly, pulling Abel towards the sink and running the tap.

He puts his finger under the tap, watching as the blood fades away, while I grab a plaster from another draw and open it.

I switch the tap off and pat his finger dry before putting the plaster on.

"Thanks," Abel says, studying my face silently.

I feel myself go slightly breathless from the fact that he's staring at every single feature on my face.

It reminds me of the first time we met and how he looked at me. He made me feel so anxious and self-conscious.

"No problem," I say now.

Abel smiles and goes back to chopping the vegetables, being extra careful not to cut himself again.

I watch him lovingly, being reminded of the time he cooked dinner for me a couple of months ago.

Hopefully this will trigger some type of memory for him . . .