The Garden
Tags: (Slight anxiety, slightly depressing, mentions of death, [we can only go up from here really]). I had posted a while back on Ao3 a snippet (actually just one chapter but we'll forget the semantics), and then placed it on the shelf to collect dust until the recent Infold drama with Caleb, and figured, you know, why not pay attention to Zayne a bit more. (I'm still a Caleb lover but I needed to take a step back because what was that? By the by, enjoy!
I counted the seconds, in tandem, with the hospital monitor while simultaneously staring mindlessly at the clock that hung against the wall. Clean. Everything was clean, pristine, holding up the sterile environment while the events of many hours ago sat playing behind my eyes. There was dirt and soot while flames licked at my nostrils and singed my eyelashes wet with salt. All of it burned in a way I couldn't seem to wipe clean. If I couldn't wash myself of some sort of survivors guilt, than I knew the nurses by my side would never stand a chance. I felt slightly foolish, almost childishly so. I've spent most of my adult life trying to center out disasters, sharpening my skills to be someone that had an ounce of worth. I wanted to fight, to protect, to defend. It was like I was being mocked, in a way. That all of that time and the countless hours training led up to the death of everything I ever owned in a simple minute. Another second ticks by and then he walks in. I hadn't really spoken to him since my last visit. We bumped into each other for lunch once but then I felt as if maybe there was some boundary he drew in the sand ever since he left and never said goodbye. I wondered then if there was always some hesitancy on his end when it came to tending to my cares and needs. 'How are you feeling?' My eyes didn't seem to move from the clock on the wall. I was willing the hands to fight and crawl their way back to this morning. To a time where I just didn't know any better. If I was greedier? I would drag myself all the way to when we were kids and my memories didn't go blank. 'I don't know.' His breath seemed to hitch, only just a little, before his composure stayed slick and cloaked in professionalism. I heard the monotone cadence of Zayne's voice speak my name, and that's when I finally ripped myself from what once was and I peered into the green of his irises. 'I'm sorry,' I began as my words quivered, ' I just can't seem to think straight. I can't tell if this is real anymore.' My files were in his hand, but I knew that by now he had every detail of my hospitalization memorized; I wouldn't have put it past him to find out every piece of the explosion either. 'It's common for a patient to experience certain degrees of disorientation after a traumatic experience. Given the nature of the explosion I would say that you should have acquired more critical injuries-' 'Zayne...please...' I didn't mean to interrupt him, or disregard what he said, but I felt it bubbling up from inside of me. Warm tears were brimming and drowning my lower lash line and it took just a moment of my breathing to falter for Zayne to catch on. 'Do you need a moment,' he asked and I bit the inside of my lip to keep from losing myself. 'I think I just need a little more time to process everything.' He nodded while watching me with concern. There was always a little warmth behind his gaze akin to fields of flowers layered in frost; always a promise of what could be but only through patience. I didn't know if there was a pinch of conflict in his mind before he says 'I will make sure to have a nurse check on you later,' and turns to leave as swiftly as he had entered. It wasn't until then that I felt the loneliness set in that I feared would hold me from now until eternity. . . .
The nightlife was still wide awake, a stark reminder that all keeps moving on and nothing ever really stops. The steps felt uncertain under my feet. There was still some hope that I would wake up from this whole situation and tuck it into the back of my mind as a horrible nightmare, but with each stride the more likely that wasn't a possibility. Even past the sound of passing cars and a soft breeze, the clinking of Caleb's necklace thumped against my collarbone. Erratic, echoing through my chest and rib-cage and I could have sworn I hadn't felt closer to him than in that moment, but now, it didn't matter. Was this how he felt? Was his heart hammering against the cold silver around his neck? Did he hold onto it for comfort like I was now whenever he felt afraid or frustrated? Hundreds of questions slammed from each side of my mind and wrapping me in a daze to the point I didn't even remember how I had gotten to my house. I knew I walked there, with my head slightly tilted towards the ground and my arms securing the files that Zayne had given me. They were documents left behind my grandma that seemed to unravel yet another set of mysteries I wasn't in the right mindset for. My vision kept flicking to the cracks in the pavement, to crinkled, lush leaves scattering from a park, all the way up towards the opening of my apartment door. It felt so empty. My shoes lined the entrance and all the dishes from this mornings breakfast sat in the sink. Things were still and peaceful just the way I left them, a capsule of a scene trapped in a liminal space, untouched by disaster. I was reluctant to take another step and disturb anything. Another pathetic attempt at recovery. I could have stood in the kitchen for hours, and with the way my legs began to ache, I realized that I actually might have. Everything that I had worked hard to afford now seemed inconsequential, a mere eyesore in a film of burnt grey. I had resigned myself to only brush my teeth and attempt to find comfort in my bed when my attention was caught by a flicker of blue-silver on my white sofa. Before I could process what I was doing my fingers reached out towards a blanket that hung over the armchair down to the floor. It had been a gift and used lovingly as seen by some of the frayed threads and notches lining the edges. Caleb had gotten it for me when I was a year away from graduating, and I had expressed I missed him. In normal fashion, he came home on break with a silk throw that smelled conveniently like him. I never stopped using it after that and it got to a point where I even worried I would ruin it by holding it too much. Nevertheless my fingertips grazed against the powder silk and my psyche began to spiral all over again. It was burned into my retina and everywhere I looked it reflected back into the darkness of my living room. My eyes fluttered shut and the details became even more crystal clear. 'No...' I seemed to whimper it out like a dejected prayer before I held the fabric back up to my mouth and nose but his scent had long since disappeared and the ache in my heart became a violent yawn. My hands were gripping knuckle-white with my blood circulation nearly cutting off all contact, but I didn't really care. Lost in my own fallen world my knees slightly buckled with my balance falling forward, shins knocking lightly against the cushions of the couch and I caught myself ever-so-slightly. I didn't have it in me to stop my phone that tumbled out of my front pocket, clacking against the rug below and the screen flipped upwards to flash brightly against my face. Through blurry vision I couldn't really make out most of the notifications or the caller IDs that were attempting to get ahold of me. Despite my conflicted emotions and trembling mental state I could still assume some, if not all of them, would be from the Association and, subsequently, my coworkers. But while I gazed down and droplets fell onto the glass, they enveloped a name and the message enlarged.
