blind - owen teague | ✔️

18. Behind Blue Eyes

The pain in my leg had alleviated, and warmth was around my waist as I was lifted from my sitting position on the hospital bed. Muscles flexed underneath skin as his arm wrapped around my back and his hand gripped my rib. A sharp breath caught in my throat as I slid my arm around his lithe waist.

"There you go. Try to put weight on your leg." Owen's voice was hushed as I slowly nodded, almost timidly. I was scared to. I didn't want to collapse again and I didn't want to have Owen blame himself again.

His lips brushed my hair near my temple, his voice causing a calming sensation over my body. "I've got you, my hold is firm and I won't let you drop." His velvety voice was reassuring as I let my grip on his cotton shirt retract, slowly putting my right foot completely on the ground. Almost immediately, my knee tried to buckle beneath the weight and my body would have dropped like a ton of bricks, if his hand hadn't have been on my rib.

His arm caught me beneath my arms as a shaky breath left my parted lips, my heart slowly lifting from the sudden panic it had dropped into. Relief hit my body like a refreshing tidal wave.

"See? I told you I had you." I could hear the smile in his voice and I couldn't stay mad at him. The corners of my lips turned up slightly, despite my trembling hand gripping his shirt from the sudden near-dropping of my body.

"I know, but I couldn't help but be scared." I whispered back as a sheepish smile formed on my lips, a rosy hue forming on my cheeks.

He was silent for a moment and I didn't know if he was smiling, or staring, or just plain disappointed in me. My heart clamped slightly at the thought, before I felt his grip loosen slightly. I felt pressure behind my knees and my body was free-fall as I was lifted up against a solid chest. My first instinct was to curl against it as a breath escaped my lips.

"Let's get you back in that bed." His voice was careful as I was laid back down on his comforter, and slowly my limbs stretched out in reply, before he brought the blanket over me. There was a soft patter of rain on the windows that I could hear.

"What's on the agenda tonight, Owen?" I asked as I moved onto my side. The weeks had become tedious and almost redundant. Of course, there was no change when you couldn't see a thing, but a voice was keeping me chained, carefully locked onto sanity.

"I can play you some music, or I can read to you, or I can just sit here with you in silence. I've already done my homework, but I still have a project that needs to be done, but... That's not due until next Friday. It's up to you, as usual." He didn't seem upset as he spoke, or tired, or aggravated. Owen was just this soft when he did. It was almost as if he was doing this for me and me only.

It made my heart yearn more. I was trapped, insatiable for a piece of him. I was always wanting more than I could now. There were so many limits on me, my loss of sight hindering me. I was just like my mother, never satisfied.

"Can you describe yourself to me again?" I murmured softly. It was always this question falling from my lips, but there was never a good response lately. It was something I knew got on his nerves, but I couldn't help it.

"[F/n]..." This time his voice was weary. "I did this yesterday. And the day before that, and the day before that." I felt my heart stamp at this reply, because I knew it was true. He did. He put up with so much from me.

Maybe love was a lie made to make you blue.

"I know, but..." My own soft voice got caught in my throat. I just wanted to be refreshed. I just wanted another piece to hold when he was gone. "I just... I like picturing you. I like to wonder. It's another piece of you."

"Yeah, a piece I can't give you." Owen's voice had gone sharp and I visibly flinched, my hand curling around the blanket anxiously. "It's like you're never satisfied. My all isn't... Good enough." These words sliced my heart to the core, nearly making it bleed. Was he finally through with me?

"I just... Owen, it isn't like that-"

"It isn't like what? Why do you ask every day?" His tone rose slightly, to a normal speaking tone and my chest tightened. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't yell at me.

"Because, I just like to know-" I could barely get a word in.

"You already know. Black hair, blue eyes, pale skin." His tone made my heart squeeze. "That's enough for you, isn't it? Or is it not?"

"It is-"

"I've told you countless times. It's innumerable. I'm tired of it. You can't ask repeatedly. You've got to find something else to focus on. Not my looks. This isn't vanity. I'm not comfortable with saying it over and over and you know that." A loud scuffing sound let me know he'd gotten up - quickly - and I moved back. My back pressed onto the cold metal railing of the bed, farthest from him.

"I gotta go." His tone had gone frigid, the cold taking over his heart and his voice. Slowly, I could barely nod. Today had gone horribly wrong. We hadn't had a bad day like this since before I'd taken Oxycontin.

"When will you be back?" My tone had gone fragile and a knife came to my heart at his next words.

"Maybe I won't." A slamming door made tears jump into my eyes, my entire body flinching in response. The panic was bad now. The tightness didn't stop and I almost couldn't breathe as a heaving, cracking sob fell from my throat.