I need help! [Aimee/Matthew]

Over Matthew's short hospital stay, he had fainted, had his mind blown and was nearly molested confronted in an unusual manner. He needed to talk, as weird as that was. His parents had stopped by a day ago, dropping off stuff that he found interesting (some video games, his laptop and embarrassingly, his stuffed bear). And even with Kumakitchi, he couldn't shake the feeling of needing to vent. Normally, Matt didn't talk to people. He was the kind that held it all in. Never confided in anyone other than his family. But they weren't here. And sadly, his stuffed bear didn't have answers.

So Matt devised a plan. There was no way he could talk to a doctor. With the whole Ivan thing, talking to a medical doctor (or in other words, adult) would only make things worse. He needed to speak with someone close to his age, who might understand. And the one person that came to mind was the cheery thin girl that Matt had first met at this hospital. Aimee Prideaux.

The blond boy chewed on the gum that had been in his backpack. Wintermint, his favourite. He spat the white substance onto his fingers, ready to carry out his plan. ever so carefully, he pulled the needle from his hand, wincing slightly before he pressed the wad of gum onto the needle-tip. The point of it? Well, aside from the terrible pun, Matt was using the puddy-like gum to prevent the IV from leaking. There was probably a way to stop the flow with a lever or switch, but Matt was too impatient to find it. With a swift movement, Matt wiping his opening down with an alcohol wipe and slapped a band-aid down on it.

The blond struggled up, willing himself to get mobile. Matthew slid over to his wheelchair, taking a few minutes to collect his breath and strength, before clicking off the breaks. Sucking in a breath, he used his lanky arms to wheel himself out of his room. He rolled down the hall, peaking into the rooms and staring at the doors until he found the person he was looking for.

The Canadian gently rapped on the door three times. Well, he wasn't just going to storm in, as much as he wanted to talk. He'd wait until she gave him permission to enter.

Shuffling sounded behind the wooden door before it opened a crack. Matt paused, wondering if he had the right room for a moment. He held his breath as the door slid open and Aimee came into view. However, the Canadian blanked on previous thoughtsand reasons why he had come in the first place at the sight of her.

She had been crying.

Her eyes, deep brown against white, were stained red and puffy. Quite the contrary to being bright and cheery, her eyes were sad and dreary. They did not suit Aimee's usual upbeat attitude at all. The tear stains down her cheeks only added to Matt's suspicions. She was definitely upset. Her image of crying... it just shook Matt. Sure she was a girl, and every girl cried, but still. Tears did not suit her. She seemed like the person who brushed everyone else's tears away and never cried herself. But, was that what made her vulnerable to tears?

She stepped back, seeming genuinely happy to see him. In fact, she seemed overjoyed. Like she...would start crying just because he came. Matt's expression softened. Was she that happy? Did no one come to see her? That would be sad. It was only polite to return the favour to come see her. But this... this wasn't a favour in Matt's eyes. If he had known that Aimee had been crying, he would have come sooner. The thought of her being so upset made his happiness plunge.

Was she hiding her sadness under a mask? Was everything kept secret? Matt was determined to find out. But right now, he'd comfort her. Question was, how? He was not a people person. He didn't know exactly how you handled these things. Wheeling himself in, he turned the chair to her and smiled a small grin. However, he tried that silent message convoyed through the eyes as Aimee rambled on. She was repeating herself, so Matt figured that she was just trying to keep a conversation going away from herself.

Matt didn't want to upset her again, but he wanted to know what was wrong. And... it might lead her to tears if he asked, but he could only help after he knew what was upsetting her. He stared up at the skinny girl and softly said, "Aimee, what's wrong?"

Aimee seemed to catch onto Matt's frown as she frantically explained herself and went on about her friendship with him, until it lead to the slightly awkward talk about being sick. Aimee's silence told Matt that she was still fussing. He smiled slightly, not really bothered by her knowing. So what if she knew? It wasn't that big of a deal, but Matt just didn't want to worry her further. She worried enough when they first met.

And his silly comeback earned an honest laugh from Aimee, the fist real one that he had heard today. He silently and mentally patted himself on the back, happy that he could bring a little joy to the girl. She then went on about the familiar nicknames that the French possessed. Matt had heard them before, but was never fond of them. But Aimee did have a point. They were rather silly names. For instance, how was it at all appealing to call someone your pig? Matt didn't have the chance to add anything before Aimee put forth another question. A few actually, so Matt had to pause to keep up.

"Well, I'm not originally from the United States. I'm bilingual. I learned it as a child back home," he said quietly and bashfully, a little shy of the fact. French wasn't as popular in the US as it was in Canada. In fact, it was quite common in Canada. Matt learned it in and out of school while he lived there. He was actually quite fluent in the language and would occasionally slip between English and French. A bad habit of his. Regardless, it never caused him bodily harm so Matt never corrected it.

Matt blew out a sigh as Aimee said that she didn't understand his boundaries. Well, she did make his skin prickle with unease, but not in a really bad way. Not exactly thing, the boy murmured, "I don't mind you touching me..."

And then Matt realized what he said. His reaction was spontaneous. "Wait! That came out so wrong!! I uh... you... you have restraints! You don't do anything wrong! It's me! I...uh..." Matt's hands came to his face as his cheeks burned. That didn't help his nausea, which would only get worse away from his transfusion, but whatever. Still, he felt a little dizzy in his panic, but it was alright because he was perched in a wheelchair. Maybe if Matt focused on his nausea, the bitter embarrassment would go away. Ha, probably not. He noticed through his sprawled fingers that Aimee reached to perhaps clasp a hand on his shoulder or knee, but stopped and refrained. See, she made an effort to respect him, though after the session with Ivan, he was sure that her gestures would wash over him.

Matt dropped his hands as Aimee's voice hardened. It was normally more upbeat and chipper. Now it sounded serious and calloused. She was not joking around when she spoke. She asked for Ivan's name. No, she couldn't consider confronting him, could she?! She was so thin and frail, while Ivan was large and menacing. Matt pictured Aimee stomp over and tell the Russian off. Matt recalled how easily angered Ivan was at little things. What if he did something to Aimee? What if Aimee got hurt? If anything happened, Matt would never forgive himself.

"He... he never told me his name. And I did tell him off... when he... " Matt's sentence died away. How was he supposed to describe his overly sensitive piece of hair? Or the cuddling that he was too timid to lash at Ivan for? But, Ivan didn't seem like a mean person. Just... without respect for personal boundaries. Matt was torn. He didn't want Ivan in trouble, but he didn't want to have a repeat of the experience.