Supernova

Author’s Note: Just something ridiculously angsty that came to me after thinking about Eliza’s background and how she’d react to Drake being shot. This takes place directly after the events of book 2 chapter 19.

Warnings: Involves mentions of gun violence, character death, and boatloads of angst

Summary: When an attack occurs at the Homecoming Ball, Eliza worries it may drastically change her future with Drake.

Supernova: The cataclysmic explosion of a star which can in some cases lead to the formation of a black hole

A million tiny hammers pound against the inside of her skull as she carefully wrenches herself free from the man splayed on top of her. Eliza knows a concussion is possible, the way her head had snapped back during the fall, bone meeting smooth stone with a harsh thump. But that doesn’t matter right now; she doesn’t care about her health or safety in this moment, only his.

The assassin who’d attacked her moments earlier lies in a pool of his own blood a few yards away, limp and motionless. Sounds of chaos fill the ballroom: the terrified cries of other guests, commanding shouts from the guards, pained grunts and deafening thuds as large bodies strike the ground.

But her attention stays focused on him, and only him, as she pulls herself into a sitting position, cradling his head in her lap and running her fingers through his soft chestnut locks. All color in his face is already draining away, his eyelids flutter open and shut, and she can see a dark red stain on his green dress shirt swiftly spreading outward from the gaping wound in his chest.

A river of tears flows steadily down her cheeks as a cocoon of fear envelopes her. She can’t lose Drake. She’s lost so many of the people she loved already, she can’t lose him too. Surely fate won’t be that cruel, will it?

After so many months of fighting and hiding their feelings they’re finally free to be together, free to create a future, perhaps even a lifetime, together. How can she continue on if the bright future dangling before her is suddenly yanked out of reach?

She has to find someone who can help him, save him. But she cannot leave him, will not leave him, and with her head continuing to throb in time to her heartbeat, she fears yelling might cause it explode. Besides, even if she could yell, who would hear it above the pandemonium continuing around them?

Eliza wants to plead with Drake to fight for her, for them, or to assure him he’ll to be fine, even though she’s not entirely sure she believes it herself. Yet every time she tries, the words stay frozen on her tongue, her brain refusing to send the order which will release them into existence. So she resigns herself to soothingly brushing a finger over his forehead just above his eyebrows and squeezing one of his hands reassuringly.

A shiver of relief runs through her when she realizes the increasingly loud ringing in her ears is not simply in her head; it is the siren of a rapidly approaching emergency vehicle. An instant before she spots the first paramedic pushing their way through the fray of fleeing nobles, a surprisingly introspective thought fights its way to the forefront of her mind.

I never got to say goodbye to the others, never got to tell them one last time how much I loved them.

But this time she can. While she prays to every higher power she’s ever read about that she and Drake will spend decades professing their love to one another, she knows in heart she has to seize this moment because she can’t know for certain what the future holds.

She bows her head down until it is mere inches from his, shallow labored breaths ruffling the hairs on her forehead. With every ounce of resolve she can muster Eliza wills the words she’s kept locked inside for months to finally leave her lips.

“I love you, Drake. I’m completely and madly in love with you,” she admits softly, hoping he can hear her, and places a soft but tender kiss to his cool lips.

When she sits up again, his chocolate brown eyes lock onto hers and she can tell he’s channeling the entirety of his remaining energy into keeping them open. She expected to see pain and anxiety swimming in them, but is instead met with a gaze so intensely pure and loving that it wraps her entire being in a blanket of warmth.

“I…love you…Larson,” He wheezes, his accent thicker than she’s ever heard it before, then his lids snap shut.

A strong but gentle hand rests on her shoulder as guards and emergency personnel appear in her peripheral vision, gathering around her and Drake.

“Eliza, are you alright? Were you injured at all?” asks a familiar soothing voice. Glancing behind her, Eliza finds two robin’s-egg blue eyes laced with concern assessing her.

She shakes her head carefully, the image in front of her blurring slightly with the movement.

“Drake’s shot. He jumped in front of me,” she manages to rasp.

“I know. He’ll be rushed to the best hospital in the country where they’ll do everything they can for him.” His voice is as calm and collected as ever, but trepidation stays etched in his features.

A tug at her dress wrenches her focus back to Drake, only to find him being lifted onto a stretcher she’d failed to hear arrive. She leans forward and attempts to reach out for him until Liam’s firm hands grasp under her armpits, holding her in place.

“We should move, Eliza, and give them space,” Liam explains, effortlessly hoisting her to her feet.

The room begins to spin in front of her eyes as icy thorns replace the hammers in her head. The prickly cold sensation flows further through her body with every beat of her heart and her legs begin to buckle. She vaguely feels arms enclose around her waist, pulling her tightly against a wall of muscles. Liam’s uncharacteristically frazzled calls for aid sound muffled and too distant to be coming from the man whose mouth is mere inches from her head.

Her eyelids fill with lead and snap shut as an image of Drake earlier that evening flashes before her; his face soft and almost completely relaxed, his lips turned up into brilliant smile, and his eyes glazed over with satisfaction yet warm with love. As her world fades to black one thought lingers in her mind:

This can’t be the end, we’ve only just begun.

____

They don’t have to utter a single word. As she lies in her hospital bed, her aching brain still wrapping itself around keeping her conscious once again, Eliza can see the truth written on their faces. Hana and Maxwell wear relieved smiles, but their eyes quickly dart away when she tries to meet their gazes and tear stains linger on their cheeks.

Liam appears to have aged ten years in a matter of hours, worry and grief causing every line in his face to deepen. Alternating flashes of intense pain, anger, and despair flicker across his dull but otherwise tender eyes, his lids puffy and pink.

It’s not until she spots Olivia, her normal fiery wit doused by a shroud of sorrow, that reality punches her in the gut.

“Drake?”  She ponders shakily, holding on to a single strand of hope barely a nanometer thick.

Eliza watches, heart in her throat, as her friends share an uncertain gaze, their eyes searching each other for the right words to say. And their silent hesitation tells her exactly what she had prayed to never hear.

He’s gone. Drake is gone.

Liam is by her side instantaneously when chest-tightening sobs begin to wrack her entire body. He pulls her close and she buries her head in his shoulder, feeling the soft tapping of wet tears on the top of her head. More arms encircle them both and the uniquely familiar scents of her friends swirl together in her nose creating a cocktail which, until now, filled her with a sense of comfort and home.

But she doesn’t feel comforted now, doesn’t even feel the warmth in their embrace. All she can feel is the burning sting of her heart shattering into a million jagged pieces.

Her mind swirls with thoughts of him from their last night together: the touch of his rough yet gentle hand over hers; dark eyes wide with an unmistakable hunger; the bitter taste of whiskey on his chapped lips; his loving gaze burning into her retinas as their bodies rocked together; a low, brilliantly accented voice moaning her name; firm abs drenched with sweat pressed against the small of her back; his rare but magnificent smile; the booming of fireworks surrounding them as sparks ignited on their lips.

They’d only had one night, one moment to confess their deeply held feelings in an act of intimacy, one night of truly being together; liberated from the secret they’d held for so long. And now their first time had become their last. She would never again see his telltale scowl, hear his gruff laugh, or brush her fingers over his scratchy stubble.

A chasm breaks open in her soul as the truth settles in and she feels a black hole forming deep within her, pulling in and compressing every last emotion until she is entirely numb.

One thought plays on repeat in her head:

The love of my life is gone forever and it’s all because of me.

-The End