tangled up in blue

15

waiting room- phoebe bridgers

Jace

I sat in that parking lot for all of sixty seconds, debating to myself whether to take Quinn's advice and just leave. I mean, he clearly he wanted to be alone. I wasn't his bitch. But then again, he'd obviously been through some shit- even if no one would tell me what the fuck was going on with him, I wasn't a complete idiot. Although, to be completely honest, when it came to him, I had an IQ of 60. He was fucking impossible.

I looked at the hospital doors, and at the dashboard, and then back at the hospital. He didn't need me. We didn't even like each other. And yet, when he'd left the car, he'd seemed off. He was usually so irritatingly... Noah, and now, his mask was slipping. I'd seen it. So I counted down to ten, almost drove away, and then took the key out of the ignition.

"For fuck's sake, Quinn," I muttered, rolling my eyes and exiting the car with a huff of annoyance.

Not only had I just dealt with an hour of a practically senile counselor trying to unearth the reason why I was such a piece of shit, but now I had to go and comfort my little brother's infuriatingly perfect best friend.

Pushing past crying families and sneezing, disgusting children, I held onto the blissful thought of the revenge I was gonna pull on Noah later. I'd still barely pranked him back. I had less energy to be funny than I used to, not after everything that had happened, and a certain pretty boy wasn't helping me act normal. I hated him, and I was gonna make sure he knew. But first, purely for malicious, 'keep your enemies close reasons', I had to go and see if he was okay.

He wasn't.

I almost walked past the room he was in before I noticed a boy standing, shaking, with tight fists in his hair.

"Noah?" I said, not even noticing that I'd actually called him by his first name. "What are you-"

Before I could even finish my sentence, he was jamming the hard palms of his hands into his forehead, tearful eyes scrunched up as if hurting himself was the only way to make the past stay the past. I was over there in an instant, placing my hands around his wrists and pulling him close. He struggled against my body, and my pulse raced at our proximity.

Shut up, stupid heart.

I'd never been this close to him before when we weren't fighting but I didn't take time to think about it. He was safe, in my arms, and that was all that mattered. He told me to let him go, but I didn't. I couldn't. Letting him go had never been a strength of mine.

He pushed against my chest, muttering something about his Dad who I'd only just noticed was lying, barely alive in the bed beside us. Without even thinking, I ran a hand through his hair, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I wanted to say, 'Give up, love. You take away too much of yourself sometimes. Give it all to me. I can hold it. I can hold you.' But being that soft went against everything I was. So instead, I just pulled him closer, letting him bury his face in my neck. "You're safe," I murmured as he shook. I wanted to peer inside his mind- to see what had broken him after all those years. To know exactly what happened before his father went into a coma. To know what he saw when he closed his eyes.

I didn't know why he didn't feel safe, or why I even cared. Maybe he reminded me of my brother too much.

No, that wasn't it. It was something else. Something hidden amongst the burning distaste I felt towards him, something that had been there a long time, gathering dust and fading into something that almost looked like the shape of him.

But I wanted Noah to feel safe. The thought was new and strange to me, because he had always meant nothing. Hadn't he? He was no one. Just a boy I was forced to know, and live with, and speak to sometimes in the color of blue and pink chalk.