A Little Bit Married

Adopted

The sun was starting to set, and I was sitting beside Gray, my hand gently rubbing his back. He was leaning forward, his hands on his thighs, his brows furrowed. His hair was slightly dishevelled because of how much he had raked his hand through it, and it hurt my heart to see him that way.

I leaned a little closer, my eyes darting across both of his. "How do you feel?"

He shrugged but said nothing, and I nodded. It would be very hard to understand how he felt right now. From vehemently refusing this child to now having to stick by him, from hating him for being a product of deceit to having to pity him and see his own reflection in his eyes, it was probably the worst place to be in.

The doctor that had gone into the room came out, removing the gloves he had been wearing.

"Doctor," Gray said, immediately standing up, even faster than I had. "How is he?"

"He is awake now," the doctor said, putting his hands behind him. "He didn't incur a lot of burns, but he will be duly treated."

Gray nodded, and the doctor walked away, leaving us standing close to the room. I sighed, reaching up to Gray.

"Are you going to go in?"

He swallowed and slowly sat back. "No."

I nodded. "Can I go in and see him for you?"

He looked up to me, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something. He decided against it and then nodded, letting go of my hand.

I leaned, kissing the top of his hair, then walked towards the door. I turned back to him. He was watching me, his eyes wide, his lips slightly parted. I gave him a small smile, and he nodded slowly before turning away.

He was at war with his own demons, and he seemed to be losing. I turned away and opened the door, then promptly closed it behind me.

I walked towards the hospital bed, my heart hammering against my chest, my hands slightly shaky.

I covered the distance, my eyes taking in the boy. He was very small, the burnt parts of his body covered. He had gotten a few injuries on his face, too, and he was covered there.

I watched his face for a long moment. Not even one of Sylvia's genes had fought back. He looked exactly like Gray, like he had been cut out of Gray's younger self with less developed features and stacked away only to be pulled out now. I could see why Gray was having such a hard time. It was hard not to see Gray in the child. It was hard not to see how the child was so obviously his, yet without his consent or his acknowledgement. I pulled a seat close to the bed and sat, my eyes taking in the boy. I didn't even know what his name was, but I pitied him.

He was caught in a cross fire, and he would probably have to bear with it for much longer, till one of them gave up on this battle. Till one of them surrendered.

I held his hand slowly, my other hand resting above his, sandwiching his hands between mine. He was cold, and I sighed, leaning slowly towards him. He had the childlike innocence, even though his eyes were closed. I hoped he had Gray's eyes. I hoped he looked nothing like Sylvia, and that would probably help Gray accept him better.

"Hey," I whispered, my voice low as I leaned closer.

His lashes were fluttering lightly, but he was most probably not awake yet. I leaned back, holding his hand in mine, my eyes closing. Today had been am abrupt curve ball I'm what had been a relatively quieter, almost done battle, and suddenly, Aunt Althea was dead, Sylvia was nowhere, someone had deliberately killed Aunt Althea, and we were here, trying to figure out what to do with the baby.

I started to fall asleep, knowing Gray probably needed his own time alone to, to put his thoughts together. He didn't need me to be all up in his face and telling him what to do. It might be the right thing to do to accept this boy, but if he didn't want to, he had every right not to. He had no obligation to be a father when he had no say in the child making anyway.

My eyes closed, and with a small sigh, I let myself drift into deep sleep.

I wasn't sure how long I had been asleep until I started to feel movement inside my palms. My brows furrowed, and I moved, slightly hitting my head on the edge of the chair I was sitting in.

I gave a small cuss as I leaned away, my eyes turning towards the bed. The boy was awake, his eyes wide with innocence as he watched me.

I broke into a small smile. Hell, he was a miniature version of Gray. The dark, stormy eyes, the lips, the nose, the dark hair. Everything was handed down right from Gray with no mix ups in between.

"Hello, there. How are you?"

He blinked. "My face... hurts."

I leaned closer. "You will be fine, sweetheart. What is your name?"

"Chris," he said, his voice low. "Who are you?"

"My name is Angeline," I said, smiling at him. "Is your name spelt with a K or a CH?"

"K."

I nodded. "Kris. It's a beautiful name."

He looked around, his eyes taking the place in. "Is this my new room?"

"New room? This is a hospital and..."

His lips parted, and I could sense something was wrong. He wasn't asking for his mother. He just seemed more concerned about... having a room.

"Do you not have a room at home?" I asked, trying as hard as I could to get as much information as I could from a three year old.

He met my eyes and slowly shook his head. "I didn't get adopted."

My face immediately fell. "A... adopted? Why would you get adopted? Are you not with your mum?"

He only seemed even more confused. "I... I don't have a mummy. Are you my mummy?"