The Beauty of Living | ON HOLD

07. you're my home

running after you — matthew mole

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e l l i o t

THE DARK HAIRED boy woke up in the seat of a car, and he could feel the little bumps as Gabriella drove. He smiled to himself as he realized that he was finally out of that goddamn hospital with somebody who wouldn't leave him. It was still dark out and he turned to look at Gabriella.

     "What time is it?" he asked the girl who was humming to some music on the radio.

     "Three a.m.," she answered tiredly, her eyes still on the road. There were few cars on the road but he still worried that she would crash into something from how tired she looked.

     "Let's find a hotel or something," Elliot suggested and in response, Gabriella nodded in agreement.

     They pulled into the nearest gas station and both got out. The boy stumbled, causing the petite girl to run over to make sure he was alright. He coughed for a long time and eventually started to cough up crimson blood.

     To saw the petite girl freaked out would be an understatement. She pulled her phone out to dial 911 before Elliot's hand put itself on her wrist. The sick boy gave her a pleading look and she sighed, putting her phone away though she was still scared out of her mind.

     "I didn't take my pills when we were eating. It never crossed my mind," he informed the girl with a sigh and then a laugh, "I spent so long trying to get out a hospital, so please don't call it again."

     Gabriella hesitated before nodding, hugging the boy tightly despite the blood on his hands. "You scared me," she whispered, earning a small laugh from the boy though she didn't find anything funny about the comment.

     "This is the least of it all," Elliot told her, "don't worry about me. Just keep breathing and living. I'll be fine. You see, I'm fine!"

     "Because bloody hands and coughing is the epitome of fine," the brown haired girl said sarcastically, and the boy laughed in response. She thought the boy was anything but fine— sickness wise.

     "Sweetheart, no amount of diseases will stop me," the boy said with a slight smirk that turned into a grin. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red at the name of endearment.

     "Did you just call me what I think you called me?" Gabriella told him, her mouth agape.

     "Sweetheart," he repeated, "you look like a tomato."

     "And you look like a. . ." Gabriella trailed off, not knowing what to comeback with until a few moments later, "a giraffe."

     He raised his eyebrow, "A giraffe? Is my neck that long?"

     "No! You're just so goddamn tall," the girl grumbled, standing on her tippy toes.

     "I'm a head taller than you," Elliot deadpanned, looking at the girl in disbelief, "it's not like you're to my stomach."

     "Same difference," she told the boy and walked over to the gas machine.

     "I'm going to get money out of the ATM so the bank can't track any transactions in the near future," the dark haired boy told the girl and slowly walked into the gas station. He looked like a turtle. A tall turtle.

     The boy left Gabriella to fill up the gas tank and walked into the store. It was practically empty with only a cashier who was staring down at his phone. He went to the ATM and extracted a lot of money from it, hoping the cashier didn't think he was some teenager who stole a card. Then again, he had oxygen tubes running along his face, so it seemed a little doubtful.