His Paper Heart ✓

•42|Her Fragile Heart (Genevieve)

•Gray Easton's POV•

An ominous boom startles me out of my abysmal thoughts. There's an ache in my eyes which could go away if I get some sleep but, the monsters that roam around in my dreams are far more threatening than the ones in my reality. I groan and try to sit up right in my chair but fail horribly. It's been a heck of week.

"Aspirin," I say to Heath, who's standing in front of me. He stares at me, his eyes filled with worry. I roll my eyes skyward and straighten in my seat. "My head is killing me, do you have any aspirin?" I repeat.

"No."

I exhale and pull a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket. I haven't smoked since I told Genevieve I would quit them. I hold them in my hands and feel my chest tightened, shards of glass dancing on my forehead as I deliberate whether to keep my promise now that I'm in so much pain. My heart has broken so many times in the past week that I don't think I will ever be the same anymore.

"You're not allowed to smoke in the hospital," Heath states when I pop one cigarette in my mouth.

"There's only one person who can tell me not to smoke and you're not her so go screw—"

"Gray," Mrs. Kaelin interrupts, her voice still hoarse, still trembling from all the crying. I exhale deeply and put the cigarettes away. "Thank you," she whispers. I get on my feet and stumble back a little. I'm tired but most importantly, I'm still a little drunk. I run my fingers through my hair and rub my eyes to clear my vision.

"Going to drink again?" Diana says the moment I turn and I groan. I haven't really looked Diana in the eyes since last week. I've always been able to tell she and Genevieve apart but now, I see her and I see Genevieve. Her eyes, they remind me so much of Genevieve's.

"Yes, Diana yes." I turn back to her and force a smile. "Do you want some tequila?" I ask.

She scoffs. "Come with me."

"I really have to go—"

"I said come with me!" she insists. I follow her down the hallway to the one room I dread walking into. When she stops in front of the door, I feel my heart thud against my chest, an unforgiving migraine in my brow as I try to breathe through my nose. "She's there," Diana begins. "She's right there. Not in some bar or in the bottles of alcohol you've been chugging and drowning your liver in. Genevieve's right there."

I sigh. "I know that."

"You know, everything she said about you was wrong. You're not brave, you're not the person she fell in love with. You're a coward. You haven't entered the room because you're a coward. Genevieve wouldn't believe this in a million years but she's so much stronger than you'll ever be because when you were shot, she sat there everyday, reading you poems she wrote for you."

I clench my teeth and the muscles in my jaw tightens.

"She almost died. Hell, the doctors thought she was dead for two minutes. They don't think she'll make it. Her heartbeat is very faint so you either say goodbye to her or go in there and pray she makes it." she shakes her head at me and walks away, probably to the little church in the hospital.

I start to pace back and forth in front of the door, wondering if I should enter or not. Not once have I thought myself as stronger than Genevieve. She's battling three of the rarest syndromes in the world and somehow she seems to survive every time. She has all these values and her laugh, it's the purest thing I've heard. She singlehandedly interrogated Rhimes on her own. She's brave.

I run my fingers through my hair and pull the roots with a loud groan. I'm frightened out of my wits because I'm afraid I'm going to lose her. I place my hand on the door and wince.