Tristan wished he could say she got better and
better after that night. That he gave more effort, and miraculously, the
episodes subsided until they came no more.
Isn’t that what is supposed to happen? The man
declares his great love for his lady, and he’d save her from the evil, which,
in this case, is an illness. We see those things in the movies and stories, all
the time, over and over.
The exact opposite happened. He’d have to sleep for
only a few hours each day, as Reeya had her episodes almost every night.
Tristan could not afford to sleep in the mornings, too. The thought of her
having an accident in broad daylight without him to help was unbearable.
So he remained awake. He did his best to supply her
with the treatments that weren’t making any difference in his eyes.
It got to the point where he was seriously
considering taking her back to the hospital. This setting was just too taxing,
too draining, and too painful. He would’ve done so, but something held him
back. It wasn’t difficult to figure out what that something is, especially when
he looked at her face.
“Tristan?”
“Hmm? Oh,” he blinked his eyes open, the sunlight
from the windows dazzling him. He remembered now – they were on the living
room. Sitting by her side, the last thing he remembered was Reeya telling him about
her previous paintings.
He’d honestly put up a serious effort in listening
to her, but seeing as he’d only slept for three hours last night – it’s now
four in the afternoon – his body started taking over, demanding rest.
“I’m really sorry, I’m – ” a yawn cut off his
sentence.
Reeya smiled. Blinking back the moisture from his
tired eyes, Tristan had to suppress a smile of his own. Small things like her smile
gave him impossible energy, and also another reason to endure. The soreness of
his limbs was fading already.
“I bet you didn’t even get half of what I said.”
“No, ‘course I did. Your first painting was of your
teddy bear, when you were just eight. You stopped painting when you were in
highschool.”
“What was the name of my bear?”
He paused.
Damn it, what’s
the bear’s name?
She laughed, her eyes alight with amusement. She
told him, “I called him Fluffy.”
“Fluffy.” He repeated, eyes twinkling. “Where’d you
get that? Harry Potter?” He kissed the side of her head just as she responded, “Yes,
and he’s actually really fluffy. So, why not? It seemed perfect.”
“Perfect.”
“Yes, and you’re repeating everything I say.”
“Everything you say.”
When she laughed again, Tristan felt like the
luckiest person alive.
4 hours later
“Come up here,” urged
the young boy, holding out his hand. He was an attractive adolescent of
eighteen years, with a pale complexion, chocolate brown hair and deep Mediterranean
blue eyes. Smiling, he reached out even more, but his companion only swept a
frantic glance on the nearby area, between the spaces of the tall trees. She
looked panicked, and then hissed to the boy,
“Not so loud! I
knew you were trouble from the beginning – ”
“Just climb up,”
he repeated, not thinking of giving up. He was up on a sugar maple tree, seated
on a sturdy branch quite comfortably. He didn’t even mind what the passers-by
might say – if there were any – and it was shown on his carefree smile. “Use
that rock over there.”
“You’re insane.”
came the girl’s reply, “and what’s the hand for?”
The boy chuckled
and started swinging his feet, “For you. Climb up. Come on, I’ll give you
space.” He started scooting to the side, little by little, and left enough
space from the tree’s main trunk to his side for the girl to sit on.
“Reeya – Reeya, wake up.”
The girl said,
annoyed, “I don’t climb bloody trees. And get back here, Tr – ?”
“Reeya?”
“If you fall
down, I won’t catch you.” she finished. The boy was still swinging his long
legs and smilingly said to her, “I was counting on that. Why don’t you get up here
so we both fall?
“Reeya!”
She gasped, and was fully awake now. Tristan had
never been more worried in his life – it was nearing midnight, but when he
heard her tossing, turning, and murmuring fitfully in her sleep, he immediately
went to her.
He was concerned that she was having her episodes
again, and when he found out she was stuck in a nightmare, his spirits stirred.
How much more can she handle? She already had enough of her share of misfortune
and this is what she gets?
He tried to compose himself when he started crying.
Reeya cries a lot these past few days, but he still found the sight of it distressing.
As he wiped the tears from her cheeks, he seated
himself at the edge of the bed and just held her, rubbing her back. Slowly, her
whimpers ebbed away.
“What did you dream about?” he whispered quietly in
her ear.
“Nothing, I – I’m not sure.” she paused, and then
said, “I can’t remember all of it now.”
He took a deep breath. It would’ve been better if
she told him about it – she could overcome her trauma easier if she confided in
someone. But he won’t force her; he care for her feeling too much. He had a lot
of time to work on making his way through her defensive nature after all, and
he wasn’t intending to waste it.
It’s truly unfortunate that Tristan Devon wasn’t the
one making the decisions; ones that change everything on impact.
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