Chapter five.

#Millia

 

OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!

My hair suddenly died down and out of Sol’s hair, my hands flew to my mouth and air stopped in my throat.

 

I didn’t…

 

Kill

 

Him…

 

Did I?

 

My vision turned suddenly blurry, I couldn’t voice a thing. Two seconds later, his head rolled to the other side, producing another crack.

 

A tear rolled down my cheek.

 

“That hurt.” He rasped, his voice thick with anger.

My jaws were clenched so tight I couldn’t let any word out.

“Rage, you crying?”

I shook my head and my hair started crawling over to where he sat again. I caught it in my hands and pulled it to my chest, “We talked about this! STOP IT!”

 

He looked at me like I was an alien from the moon on business to study his brain.

 

“You talked?” he stood up and shifted his weight, holding his fire sword.

There was nothing else to say, I have officially humiliated myself.

 

After an uncomfortable pause, he shuffled his way to the door.

“I’m sorry.” I spoke quietly, I wanted him to know I was sorry to cause him so much trouble, and I wanted him to forgive me and say it will be okay.

 

That was always my fantasy, somebody telling me that it will be okay.

 

Anybody.

 

“Whatever.” With that, the door was shut.

 

I sighed and my hair crawled into my lap like a sad puppy. “It’s all your fault.” I scolded and it died down without a single move. “Yeah, you do that.”

 

I sat back and looked at my right arm, wondering if I will ever get anybody’s name written on it.

 

Childish, you say?

 

Maybe you haven’t had an arm or leg broken before. Its terrible waiting all this time and just looking at the plain white cast every morning. If you ever had any of your friends write their name there, it makes it easier.

 

That’s just it, I don’t have friends.

 

Problem is, I have both my arm and leg in a cast, which means I wont be moving for a while now.

 

The door opened again and a doctor walked in, with a shining eye peeking out of a paper bag.

 

Oh God, no…

 

“Hello! How are WE doing today?” he sang happily and a nurse walked in with a huge needle in her hands. “I’m Dr. Faust and this is Fanny!”

“And I’m Millia, this is my hair.” I joined my brows and my hair turned into a huge sharp scalpel.

He sweat dropped and angled his head to an inhuman degree, “Wow! I could use that with a certain Potemkin!”

The nurse behind him smiled and put her needle down. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” I held my arm, the skin under the cast suddenly feeling itchy. “I just want to get out, please.”

She smiled warmly and held my wrist, feeling my pulse and looking at her watch.

 

The tall doctor kept looking at my hair and scribbling something in a notebook he had. “Miss, Rage, you can leave today, but if you don’t mind, I want to study this more!”

I turned sharply to him, “No, I’ll be leaving, and don’t look for me, I’m only trouble.”

He sweat dropped and walked closer, touching my other arm and inspecting the cast closer. “Hmm, it’s healing nicely.” He looked at my leg and touched my toes. His finger’s were cold. “Healing nicely too! The leg is just fractured, it’ll heal in two months!”

 

The nurse smiled at me and checked something into her chart, “I’ll get you a wheel chair and call your husband to come get you.”

“No.” I held her arm when she was about to turn around, “Don’t.”

She blinked, “But he’s waiting downstairs, he said he would wait for you to take you home.”

 

Oh no. please don’t tell me Venom is here pretending to be my husband to take me ‘home’ and kill me slowly and painfully!

 

“H-How does he look like?” I stammered, getting a weird look from the doctor next to me.

“Well, he’s tall, tan, has a cute face and blue eyes.” She said thoughtfully.

“H-How d-does his hair look like?” I swallowed.

“Dark brown with a red head protector. He carried a red sword around, I think it’s a toy or something, doesn’t seem very heavy.”

I sighed in relief and have I been standing I would have fallen to my knees for sure. ”Oh, thank you…”

She smiled and tossed a blonde strand of hair out of her eyes, “Wait here, I’ll get the wheel chair.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

#Sol

 

I was seated comfortably on one of the benches in the small park behind the hospital, stretching my legs. A thin line of smoke making its way out of my mouth. Ah yes, the pure pleasure of having nicotine back into my system.

 

I hate it.

 

It shuts off all the feeling.exe file group. And it makes the hormone.exe mess up big time.

 

But I cant live without it, missing a single file of the nicotine or caffeine just drives me berserk, and I mean berserk.   

 

A nurse pushing Millia in a wheel chair walked over to me, smiling as she delivered her to me, to her husband.

“And here you go, have a safe trip home.” She waved and went back into the hospital.

Millia wrung her hands in her lap. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Do what?” I leaned back into my comfortable perch and blew out smoke rings.

“Help me, you don’t have to.”

“I’ve got nothing else to do.”

 

She silenced and looked away, at a point only she can see. “I don’t want to owe you more than I already do.”

 

It was suddenly obvious to me that she and I share the same hatred to a certain commitment to other people.  

 

“You don’t.” I stubbed the cigarette into the metallic bars of the bench and lit another one I fished out of my pocket.

“Then what do you call helping me? why are you doing that?” her voice was quiet, like a whisper.

“Like I said.” I stood up and threw away the barely-smoked tobacco. “Nothing else to do, so why not? Lets go.” I pushed her chair and occasionally watched the top of her head turn to look around nervously.   

 

We entered the hospital to check her out and get her some crutches then leave through the other door. She was quiet in the cab. Maybe because the driver kept talking non-stop.

 

 

She refused to let me help her up the stairs, although my place was on the third floor and she continued to struggle with the crutches, she still refused.

“Just let me carry you up the damn stairs.” I grumbled and shoved my hands into my pockets, Fuuenken warm under my arm. It’ll be damn faster too, I need my sleep.

“In your dreams.” She whispered and staggered again. Barely keeping up with holding the crutches and grabbing the rail and keeping her arm safe.

 

I sighed, grabbed Fuuenken in one hand and scooped her up in my arms. Hurrying up the stairs before she’d try to bonk my head with a crutch or something.

“Sol! Let me down!” she tried to keep her voice down, while trying to hold on to the wooden objects, scold me and not fall at the same time.

 

It was interesting.

 

“Badguy!” she whispered, her breath on my face. “Put me down!”

“No.” we were only a few steps away from my door.

“I don’t need your help…” her voice broke onto the last word.

 

I put her down and looked down at her while absently fishing into my pocket for the key.

 

Was she trying to not cry?

 

Warning, Female about to cry. Hide while you can…

 

If I find the man who put the humor in this thing…

 

I’ll kick his ass…

 

And I will, too.

 

“Rage, you crying?” unlocking the door, I ushered her in and locked the door behind us.

“No.” she threw herself into my sofa and the crutches cluttered to the floor.

“You sure sound like your crying.” I smirked mentally. Sure feels nice to push her buttons, haven’t done that to anybody in… forever!

“I’m not.” Suddenly her voice regained its stability, “So drop it, please.”

“You are too polite.” I made myself comfortable on the sofa, as far away from her as possible.

“I’m in your house.”

 

I sighed and wished she’d try to push any of my buttons, haven’t had a thrill in a long time…

 

She’s too damn polite.

 

“S- Badguy.”

“Hm?”

“Why didn’t you take me to Jam’s?” her face was showing the beginnings of fever, red eyes and nose, pale face and sweat.

“Jam’s a wench.” I rested a knee on an ankle, “She’d be bitching around all night about her restaurant.” 

 

She nodded, her head falling lower with every nod.

 

“You want to sleep?”

“No.” she shook her head and her hair was as limp as mine. Not even trying to crawl up my spine? I’m disappointed, she must feel really sick.

 

“You should sleep. You don’t want to end up with a fever.”

She sighed, “How do you know?”

“…”

 

After a short pause of uncomfortable silence, I got up and uncharacteristically offered, “Coffee?”

“Hm?” she flinched and looked up at me, her blue eyes glossy, “Sorry?”

“You want coffee?” I frowned.

“No, th-thank you.” She slumped down and lay on her side.

 

I changed my course and headed into the bedroom, pushing back the covers and pillows and then turning back out to look at the miserable creature laying half-dead on my couch.

 

“You need sleep.”

She was already out.

 

At least this time she wouldn’t hit me with crutches.

 

I carried her the small distance between the living room and bedroom, she was indeed feverish when I touched her forehead.

 

Human temperature 38.9 and rising.

In need of medical attention.

 

I sighed and went into the kitchen. I’m partially grateful I haven’t taken her to Jam, but also annoyed that I wont be catching up on un-needed sleep.

 

End of chapter Five.