Chapter 33: 31 - Peekaboo

I awoke in the hospital.

"Ugh," I groaned hoarsely. "Here again? Can't you guys be a little more original?"

The several people crowded around my bedside shot to attention, looking alarmed. Their gazes landed on me, and I winced when I saw the looks on their faces.

I was in so much trouble.

"She's awake," Rokim breathed, breaking the silence first. Lisa was next to him, staring at me with equally shocked eyes.

"Yes, she is," Adrian confirmed, glaring down at me. Prof mirrored his expression, sitting in a chair with his broken leg propped up before him.

But one person was missing.

"Uh . . ." I trailed off awkwardly. Maybe opening with a complaint wasn't the best idea, judging by the fact I was in a room full of people I'd angered. "So . . . how've you guys been?"

"Ugh!" Rokim threw up his hands, shaking his head. "How have we been?" A chorus of angry cries followed his exclamation.

"Worried sick, that's how!"

"How could you play with your life like that?"

"Do you have any idea what could have happened?"

"Actually, I could be better, my favourite character on Game of Thrones just died—"

"Adrian!" Prof scolded. Adrian only shrugged in response.

"What? She asked." He turned his bright green eyes back on me, askance. "Doesn't mean I'm happy with her, though."

I winced again. This was going about as well as I'd hoped. "In that case, I'd like to apologize—"

Lisa tsked sharply, cutting me off. I blinked in surprise. Out of all these people, I'd expected the least backlash from her.

"We don't want your apology," Lisa said, staring me down sternly. "We want to know that you'll be safe."

Several nodding heads seconded her statement. I sighed, forcing my sore body up into a sitting position, and made sure to look them all in the eye.

"I'm going to say sorry anyway," I said, finally serious. "Because I am. I am truly sorry it happened."

That seemed to curb their frustration, if only a little. I continued, encouraged by their response. "In terms of the future, you don't have to worry. It won't happen again."

Rokim crossed his arms, still looking a little mistrustful. "How do you know?" he challenged.

I pursed my lips, saying my next words with reluctance, but knowing they were necessary. "I'm gonna start carrying around one of those stupid syringes. At all times, just like you wanted. Wasn't that why you gave Rian one to carry around in the first place?" I raised my eyebrows at him, and his expression was enough to confirm I was right. "There'll be no chance for an episode to get that out-of-hand again. Is that enough?"

He stared at me a little longer before offering a slow nod. "Okay," he agreed. "I'll hold you to that."

I grinned lopsidedly. "I'd expect you to."

Just then, the door swung open. I glanced in the direction of the newcomer, and promptly felt a trickle of ice make its way down my back.

Rian looked up from the dangerously full glass of water he'd been carrying. When his eyes landed on me, he froze. The entire room seemed to hold its breath.

"You're awake," he said.

I raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

His brow furrowed, and I noticed how disheveled he looked. His hair was even more unruly than usual, and he was wearing the same clothes he'd had on at the ball. Except the jacket was missing and the shirt was considerably more rumpled.

The others in the room—which was getting pretty full now—looked between the two of us uncomfortably. If they picked up on the tense atmosphere, they didn't mention it.

But Rian noticed their discomfort. In response, he simply stalked forward, weaving between the other guests until he reached my bedside. The space between us shrank, that glass of water still in his grip.

To my surprise, he didn't simply put the cup down on the sidetable. Instead, he practically forced it into my hands.

"Drink," he ordered, his glare the most severe I'd felt so far.

I rolled my eyes irritatedly but brought the cup to my lips. Though I hated to say it, I was grateful—I hadn't realized how thirsty I was until I was guzzling water down by the mouthful.

I drained the glass within moments. I was about to set it down on the table when Rian snatched it from me.

I frowned, growing more irate, but my annoyance was soon curtailed by the scathing anger etched into Rian's face. He tossed a granola bar onto my lap—peanut butter, my favourite.

"Eat if you can," he commanded. "But don't overdo it."

I blinked in surprise. He wasn't being cold, or ignoring my existence, which had been his MO ever since I'd reentered the country. Instead, he was . . . taking care of me?

"Are you alright, Rian?" I asked bluntly. "You're being weird."

His eyes narrowed ominously. Rokim sucked in a breath. Lisa shook her silently, and Prof and Adrian both gave me are-you-serious glances.

My brows lowered in confusion, and a bit of alarm. What was their deal?

Rian's gaze was still blazing with fury. He leaned down to look me in the face. I reared back a little, trying to cover my nerves with defiance, but he simply bridged the gap until he was only a few inches from me.

"You," he said, his voice deceptively soft, "are an absolute fucking idiot."

I gaped. To my utter shock, Lisa nodded in righteous agreement, and Rokim smothered a laugh.

Rokim. Laughed at something Rian had said. The world didn't make sense anymore.

Rian straightened, glaring down at me for a couple seconds longer. I floundered, struggling to respond, but I couldn't find the words. Finally, Rian shook his head.

"God," he muttered. "How I managed to stand you my entire life is a damn mystery."

I stopped fumbling, struck dumb by his comment.

He acknowledged our past. He wasn't going to pull the amnesia act again. A wave of indecipherable emotion surged through me, but before I could pick it apart, Rian had already moved on.

"Can you make sure she eats?" he asked Adrian. "She forgets sometimes."

The remark made me scowl. He wasn't my damn keeper, and he had no right to be acting like it. Adrian simply nodded, glancing at my annoyed face amusedly. "No problem."

"I'll see you later," he said, addressing basically everyone in the room but me. I rolled my eyes again. So petty.

After sending me one last pointed glare, Rian stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

The room was quiet for a few seconds. I broke the silence, not comprehending what just happened. "What's his problem?" I asked sorely.

"Jesus Christ," Prof muttered, which drew my shocked gaze to him. What was it with everyone and the uncharacteristic oaths today? "You're impossible. Help me up please, Adrian."

Adrian pulled Prof off the chair, allowing him to lean for support until he got his crutches. Upright now, Prof pursed his lips. "You should really appreciate that boy more," he said to me disapprovingly.

Rokim snorted. "Ain't that the truth."

My jaw dropped open. Had I fallen into an alternate dimension or something? "Are you all seriously on his side now?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes," they all replied simultaneously.

"Oh my god," I muttered, glaring at them. Traitors.

Prof made his way out, Adrian in tow. I scowled until just Rokim and Lisa were left.

I was fuming. It wasn't like I'd simply forgotten the events at Mac's—far from it. He'd blatantly refused to let me apologize, no matter how I pleaded. It stung. More than stung.

Apology not accepted. The words were horrible to even think about.

"What the hell did he do that was so great?" I asked frustratedly.

"He saved your life, for one thing," Rokim replied sarcastically. I didn't respond to that, instead choosing to stare at the blindingly white bedsheets and clench my fists.

I wasn't proud of what I'd done—keeping quiet about the episode until the last possible moment—but I didn't know what else to do. I was stuck in a loop and no matter where I looked, I couldn't see a way out.

But it still didn't warrant damaging all my closest friends beyond repair. Begrudgingly, I acknowledged that in this one situation, I was in the wrong. Mostly.

"Alright," I muttered, forcing myself to calm down. These aren't the people you're angry at, I reminded myself. "I get it. I already promised it wouldn't happen again."

Lisa scoffed a little, but I cut her off with a sharp stare. "And I meant it," I finished.

She raised a golden brow. "You already convinced us, remember?" she said, gesturing between her and Rokim. "Rian is another story."

"I'm not convincing him of anything," I fired back hotly. I was beyond unwilling to continue our conversation from last night. I wasn't going to plead anymore. I'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.

Slowly, I hauled myself out of the bed, swinging my legs off the side of the mattress.

"What are you doing?" Rokim asked warily.

"Getting out of here," I responded. I looked over my attire. I was wearing a too-large hoodie and slim cargo pants. I frowned—the casual clothes meant I hadn't been in the hospital too long, but they also didn't belong to me.

"Okay, two questions," I began, drawing the hood over my unkempt hair. "One, how long have I been here?" I turned to them, raising both brows. "And two, whose clothes are these?"

"You got here about six hours ago," Rokim supplied. "It was a surprise that you woke up so quickly, considering the last time."

Lisa grinned conspiratorially, nudging him. "Maybe 'cause the entire time, Rian hel—"

Rokim's eyes widened, and he frantically shushed her. I lifted an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them, but I didn't bother asking about it. I'd learned that these two could keep secrets when they really wanted to.

I simply moved on. "And the clothes?"

They both shifted uncomfortably. "The cargos are mine," Lisa offered. She averted her eyes as she continued. "And the hoodie is Rian's."

I rolled my eyes, tempted to strip right there. Apparently reading my intention, Rokim covered his eyes as a precaution. Lisa smiled amusedly at the action.

"Listen, Han," he said, fingers over the top half of his face. I was caught between laughing at the image and scowling because I was wearing Rian's clothing. "I know Rian and I aren't exactly friends—"

"As demonstrated by that time they nearly got into a fight by your bedside," Lisa cut in helpfully. "That was in a hospital too, actually."

Even though I couldn't see them, I could clearly imagine Rokim rolling his eyes. "Thank you, Lisa, for that excellent example," he said drily. "And yeah, Han, we're not best buds. But even I can see he cares for you. I mean, maybe he's not the most sociable guy around. And sure, he talks like a dude from the 19th century sometimes, and no one can figure out where his money comes from, and he's just generally an all-around asshole—"

"Getting off topic, Roke," Lisa chimed in.

"Right. I'm just saying," he ventured, finally peeking through his fingers. "Maybe you should give him a chance."

I stared at the both of them incredulously, not believing what I was hearing. "Are you serious?"

His hands dropped away, and he looked a bit nervous. "Yes?"

My gaze hardened. "I did give him a chance, Rokim. All I've done ever since France was give him chances," I said, hearing a harsh note creep into my voice. "Yesterday, I asked him to give me one too. Just one. And he threw it back in my face."

Rokim opened his mouth to protest. "But Han—"

"No," I said firmly, cutting him off. "That was it for me, Rokim. I tried to apologize to him. I tried to get this damn guilt off my chest, and I couldn't. He made sure I couldn't."

A quiet, internal voice whispered to me, against my will. Something was wrong last night, it said cautiously. He looked just as guilty as you. Maybe you don't have the whole story.

I told it to shut up.

Breathing in deeply, I continued. "If I can't move on from the guilt," I said, pausing to point at the case of syringes sitting on a table nearby, "and there's no chance of dying anytime soon, now that I promised to carry those around, that means I have to live with it. And that means I don't need to associate with Rian anymore. There's no point."

I finished my speech, staring into the stunned faces before me. After a moment, Lisa bridged a response.

"That's all well and good, Han," she said slowly. "But there's one problem with that logic."

I raised my brows, interested to hear what she'd come up with. "And what is that?"

"You like him."

The words hung in the air. I stared at her, sure I'd misheard. She stared back, a knowing smile stretched across her face. Rokim glanced between the two of us nervously, and his hands slowly reached to cover his eyes again.

Finally, I spoke. "I think the shock of recent events has gotten to you, Lis. You're not thinking straight."

"Nope!" she chirped. "I feel fine. I'm very in touch with my emotions, you know. Maybe you could learn from me."

I laughed, more out of surprise than anything else. "What a bold statement," I said, a mocking tone to my voice. "Forgive me if I ignore it completely."

She shrugged, that nonchalant grin still on her lips. "Sure thing, Han. Feel free to call me when you realize I'm right."

I didn't bother dignifying that with a reply. Instead, I turned to Rokim, who still had his fingers over his eyes.

I rolled my own. "Rokim, you can stop doing that. We're not playing peekaboo."

He scowled and withdrew his hands quickly. I pivoted on my heel towards the door, intent on checking myself out and heading home.

"Bye, guys," I muttered, still a little irked, before exiting the room.

As I walked down the hall to the front desk, I couldn't help but ponder what Lisa had said to me. No matter how I looked at it, I kept coming to the same conclusion.

She was wrong.

Believe me, I'd felt a lot of different ways towards Rian ever since I'd returned from France. First I was happy. Then I was anxious, afraid. My birthday was a nice surprise, but that was a blip on the scale, an outlier. Sometimes I was excited. Sometimes I was irritated. And I was always, always guilty.

But even through all that, I'd never felt the way I did now.

My guilt had dampened, cast away in the cathartic release last night provided. I couldn't get over how he'd dangled the relief of forgiveness in front of me, then cruelly took it away. That one act had hurt like nothing I'd ever felt before.

And even if his cruelty was justified by the mistakes I'd made against him three years ago, I was far from a saint. My patience was not inexhaustible. He'd been cold, ignored me repeatedly, put me through the emotional wringer more times than I could count.

I'd lost things too, in that incident three years ago. And I'd nearly died several times since seeing him again. I couldn't help but think—wasn't that a large enough price to pay? Didn't I deserve something?

So no. I was not remorseful.

I was angry.

And I knew what would come next. Soon enough, that anger would devolve into resentment, then hatred. We were already incompatible. I couldn't imagine spending another second by his side without exploding from fury.

"Oh!" Just as I reached the end of the hall, Rokim caught my attention. "I know you're not exactly in the best mood right now," he called, "but don't forget we're all meeting at your place at one p.m."

I glanced over my shoulder at him confusedly. "My place?" I echoed. "Why? What happens at one?"

He looked at me as if I'd gone bonkers. "The ecomp, Han. We have to go to the ecomp."

Ice water filled my veins. The ecomp. I'd forgotten entirely.

Rokim continued, seemingly unaware of my internal crisis. "Just a reminder, Rian's gonna be there too," he added. "Prepare yourself. You'll be spending a lot of time with him."

As soon as he withdrew, I sagged against the wall. It was only a moment ago I'd been thinking I'd be happy if I never saw that devil again. Now I'd be in close proximity with him all day.

There really is no rest for the wicked.