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Heather and Brynn
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message 51:
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E M M A
(new)
Jan 10, 2015 09:44PM
Awwwww pheeebbsss so sweet :* haha so am i good to go to morning? He coukd have one of his bad dreams or a pain attack, whstever is cool:)
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Hahaha weren't we planning on having like the media take a picture if then together and there's rumors that they're dating??? We could have that happen. Phoebe's manager could burst in all angry about it and Phoebe has to hurry up and hide Paul so her manager doesn't find out he's here. Pretty dumb idea but that's all I got. I think the whole waking up with a nightmare is way over used and lame
Regardless of his insistence that he take the couch, Phoebe wouldn't have any of it. She steered him past the couch he had been expecting to be able to collapse onto, but she took him further through the apartment. Past the living area was her bedroom, and he dreaded taking any more steps. His leg ached, and he felt like he could heave any second onto the beautiful floors. He'd already ruined enough, hadn't he? "Miss Taline-!" Paul disagreed weakly, holding his leg that had bled a little through the stitches with a permanent grimace on his once stony expression. There was no arguing with Phoebe anymore, he couldnt take her stubborn behavior any longer. On the outer shell, Paul was irritated and in refusal about all the help she was extending to him. He asked for little, and yet she insisted to be his little hero, to give him more than he had asked for. Inside, it was a little... flattering. First the advil and water, then the orange juice, then the whole bed thing... nobody ever really did anything for him before. He didn't think people like Phoebe existed, who helped others regardless of who they were just out of the goodness of their hearts. Bless her little soul, Paul thought, clamping his mouth shut with the finality of Phoebes tone. Led into Phoebes room, he was immediately stricken by how feminine it was. Everything from the bedsheets to the furniture to the rug to the curtains, it was all a touch too girly for Paul. He felt a pang of longing for his own dark room, with the heavy comforters that kept him asleep for as long as he wanted during those colder nights. Paul hobbled using Phoebe as his crutch, desperate to fling himself onto it's soft pillowy surface as his vision blurred too many times for his liking. Phoebe helped him lay down, and he caught his breath in pain. His eyes were troubled as he slid down slowly, holding his thigh with one hand while resisting the whimperings. His leg felt like it was on fire, like the skin would all come apart. He had no idea how he'd take his stitches out of such a big cut, but that would have to wait until later. Right now, he had to focus on keeping himself alive.
Phoebe didn't have to tell him twice to lie down. With a bit of wriggling and turning and assistance from Phoebe, Paul was tucked nicely under some covers with his bad leg sticking out for some air and to prevent the sheets from touching it. He was an absolute mess, and the desire to take a shower was overwhleming. At least brush his teeth before bed, wash his face, his hands... however, Paul was already in bed, immobile as his head adjusted to Phoebes soft pillows. Her sheets smelled nice, like girl... the swaying sensation that had plagued Pauls movements on the way to the bed had disappeared now, and he could feel himself relax a bit. His shirt was tattered and stained, the white sleeves crudely been ripped off for his makeshift bandage earlier. His suit jacket was somewhere in the kitchen, and he had kicked off his shoes as well in the kitchen to make sure nothing got swollen. His pants were soaked in blood, and he could already feel it blending with the white of the blankets.
He felt so terrible, but what could he do? Paul opened his mouth and closed it again, speechless at her generosity. He had been so wrong about Phoebe being an airheaded princess. The only way he could protest was shaking his head no, a confused twisted look on his stoic features. His blue exhausted gaze searched Phoebes brown eyes looking over him, finding nothing but kind intent and sympathy in those eyes. There was no sort of mocking, no irritation, just Phoebe. Paul's lips pressed in a thin line, the ends tugging slightly upward in a grateful smile that felt forced and unnatural on his face. "Thank you, Miss Taline, I really do appreciate it," he said formally, his voice hoarse and gratituous. He nodded as his eyes followed her finger to the bathroom door, hoping he wouldn't need to vomit and make a mess tonight. "Goodnight Miss Taline," Paul said softly, adjusting the covers closer around his neck as he watched her retreat.
It had been such a long time since he'd been taken care of like so, with someone clearly not showing any discomfort in his presence nor disgust. She treated him like a normal human being, despite the fact that his legs hung off the side of the bed because of his height, or the way his sharp blue eyes were unkind. The light flickered off, and the door closed until only a peek of the hallway light fell onto the room. Paul lay awake for a while, trying to get comfortable in a foreign home in vain. His leg ached terribly, and Paul could hardly close his eyes without feeling sharp jolts every time his stitches were pulled taut when his skin was twisted in a certain way. Only his injured right leg stuck out from under the comforters, his chin tucked over the soft fabric. Paul eventually settled with his head on its side on the pillow, the sound of Phoebes faint footsteps and movements aroumd the kitchen in the back of his mind as he finally fell asleep.
Paul slept quite soundly for the most part, waking up for an hour or so around one before his eyelids fluttered shut again. He was relaxed despite being in someone else's apartment, a strangers house, and found himself not tossing and turning like he normally did. Sunlight poured through the curtains at seven AM, his eyes slowly adjusting to the brightness as he glanced around his surroundings with a blank expression. The blankets had tangled around his torso and his good leg, a warmth radiating underneath. Now looking at his leg, his skin where his stitches were seemed a bit swollen for his liking. He'd lost his sock, and his hair was in disarray. Paul wiped the sleep from his eyes, displeased that he hadn't waken early like he always did. Sitting up, his raw injury stung with his movement. His head spun momentarily as he let himself awake completely, blinded and irked by the sunshine. Getting to his feet and grabbing his gun off the bedside drawer where he vaguely remembered setting it before he fell asleep the night before, Paul walked shakily with slow attempts. It wasn't as bad as the previous day, as it was mostly numbed, but there was still occasions where Paul nearly crippled onto the floor of pain. Using the bed and the walls as support, Paul eventually swung open the bedroom door to find himself looking out at a relatively quiet apartment. "Miss Taline?" Paul cleared his throat, peering out with his weight on the door jamb.
The couch was highly uncomfortable for Phoebe. She wanted to have her bed. Her nice big comfortable bed. But she couldn't have it. She had given it up so her injured bodyguard could sleep in it. It was something she was willing to do. He was great at his job and she wouldn't deny that. Even though she did get a little scaped, he was still there to save her. She felt bad that he was taking the blame for it when it was her fault. She hadnt been paying attention when it happened. Phoebe could only imagine what would've happened if Paul wasn't there to protect her. If her manager hadnt hired him, Phoebe didn't know we're she would be right now. Probably in the hospital. There was no way those mall cops couldve pulled that disgusting man off of her. She was so lucky to have Paul. She vowed to make it up to him, somehow. This wasn't enough. Helping him stitch his wound and giving him a bed to sleep in wasn't enough to pay him back. Phoebe didnt think anything was good enough, but he was going to keep trying until she at least got close to repaying him. The Californian sun shone brightly into Phoebe's apartment windows, causing her to stir in her sleep. Soon enough, her eyes fluttered open. She was on the couch. How did that happened? Then it all rushed back to her. Paul. He was probably still asleep in her bed. She remembered last night the way he thanked her. It was so genuine it put a smile in her face. Phoebe would give up anything to help someone, even her bed. Swinging her legs over the couch ad letting her feet hit the floor, Phoebe yawned, rubbing her eyes. She could only imagine what she looked like, her hair dangling every which way down her back in a mess and her tired eyes giving a hint of the rough night she had and the little to no sleep she had gotten on the couch. Phoebe stood up, stretching a little before turning back around to face the couch and folding up the blankets she had used last night in a neat stack.
Hearing movement in her bedroom, she guessed that Paul was awake. Phoebe hoped that she didn't wake him up, but she had barely made any noise. She was instantly concerned, wondering if he was feeling any better or if his wound was infected, but she wasn't going to barge into the room and play twenty questions. She knew she already annoyed him, she didn't need to make it any worse. Then she heard her name, well her last name. "You can just call me Phoebe." She informed him, turning to face his large body in the doorway of her room. And she thought she looked rough. He looked like he had gone through hell and came back. His hair was everywhere, his eye just as tired as hers, he was missing a sock, his clothes were wrinkled an there was a ragged square cut out of one of the pant legs.
"Are you feeling any better?" She asked him, her voice full of concern. She noticed how he was leaning up against the doorway for support. It must still be hurting badly. Could he drive home? Would he have to stay here longer? Phoebe's questions would have to go unanswered for a while. "Here, sit down." She told him, gesturing to the couch for him to sit. There was no way he could stand on his injured leg for so long. Before anything else could happen there was a loud four pounds on Phoebe's apartment door. "Phoebe!" A scream came out from behind the door. The voice was far too familiar to her. It belonged to her manager and nobody else. Phoebe's eyes grew wide in fear. Paul was still in her apartment. He couldn't be here. Her wide eyes flashed to Paul for some sort of help. "One second!" She called out in a frantic voice.
Paul caught movement out of the corner of his eye as he limped through to the living room, relaxing when he saw it was just Phoebe. Oh. She looked quite dishevled, only making him feel worse about taking her bed and staining it with his blood. He hadn't even had a good sleep, with fitful tossing to try and get comfortable with his stitches. Perhaps he had done them a tad tighter than he would have liked... but that was how they needed to be if he ever wanted it to heal faster. Phoebes hair was a mess, sticking up in some places more than others, with her clothes wrinkled and still ripped and stained from the day before. There was makeup smeared with the bags under her eyes, and overall, she looked like she hadn't slept for days. They were quite the sight. Paul sighed softly with relief that his client was still safe while he had been asleep, that nobody had broken in or anything in the midst of the night. Because if that happened, they'd been screwed. Well, Paul anyway. Surely he'd overdo himself to keep Phoebe safe, even if it meant his own life... or leg. He felt just so uncoordinated with his leg, dragging it around with pains shocking him whenever he moved it wrong. Paul hadn't really considered the fact that Phoebe could still be sleeping either, not until he had seen her almost literally roll off the couch looking disorineted. Maybe it was because he didn't live with anyone that he was just so inconsiderate- he'd never had to worry about someone else seeing him at such an hour. "But-" Paul began to protest when she insisted on being called Phoebe only, his every instinct giving warnings not to. It was unprofessional, and it would be much too friendly to be on first name business. "Okay..." Paul grumbled under his breath, using the wall to lean himself on as he struggled to regain his strength again. Never had he thought walking a couple hundred feet would be so difficult.
Paul smoothed his hair down with his hands and attempted to fix his appearance, what with his ripped shirt and all. His stomach growled painfully, and his face felt heavy from lack of adequate rest. Maybe it would be in his best interest to take a day off... catch up on sleep, give Phoebe the oppurtunity to have a proper bodyguard. Not some ex-special forces guy who didn't even talk and couldn't pay attention. "Im feeling better, yes... thank you, Miss- er, Phoebe," Paul said slowly, thinking about his words carefully before he said them. He felt so sick, so weak, it was just unsettling and even worse to be outside his comfort zone right then; a woman's apartment. There was just so many things that conflicted his contract and his conscience.
"Thank you for all your assistance last night, and for your own bed... that was very considerate of you, I owe you," Paul murmured with his blue blood shot eyes watching Phoebe fumble with folding the blankets. He folded his arms across his chest feeling a bit dizzy at certain points when his eyes would just space out, and he'd teeter on his feet. His leg constantly ached to the point where he was always gritting his teeth to bear the pain. "Did you get much sleep? I can't thank you enough, I left such a mess in the kitchen... I would have cleaned it up, I just could barely move last night, I apologize for the damage..." Paul rambled off, finding it in his nature to apologize for absolutely everything and take the blame on himself. He was an independent person, he accepted help from hardly anyone, as Phoebe learned yesterday. So when someone did actually end up helping him, it felt like a big confusing deal to him that never made any sense. Why did he always feel so ashamed and weak when others helped him? It was okay to accept help, he had to understand that.
Phoebe didn't have to tell Paul twice as he lumbered clumsily to the couch, nearly leaping onto it's soft cushions with a relived sigh as he sank his weight into the warm spot where Phoebe had been sleeping moments earlier. He felt like an intruder, sitting rigidly with his bad leg extended under the coffee table while his arms and hands were strictly to his lap. He'd already bled all over her kitchen counters and floors, stained all her covers, taken her bed... he had to leave as soon as he gathered his strengths. Right now, he felt a bit feverish, and his stomach hurt. Putting his foot on the gas wouldn't go over well, maybe he'd have to suck it up and call someone from the company to pick him up. Just when Paul was beginning to breathe easy again with his body limp and unrestricted with torturing pains, four abrupt knocks shocked him.
He nearly jumped from his seat with his eyes locked onto the front door, his body tensed and ready to act. Adrenaline shot through his veins and made his chest pound, the lack of blood and oxygen in his body making his head spin. He already had his hand on his gun automatically, anticipating the worst. It was the manager, he could hear his shrill voice through the front door. He and Phoebe shared a look of absolute panic, Paul already scrambling to his feet trying to make as little noise as he possibly could. He looked to Phoebe for a place to hide, searching the apartment. Back to her room? Paul glanced back to the front door where the manager was yelling at her, mustering his last strain of energy to limp a bit lore noisily than he anticipated to the room. Once back inside, he closed the door, collapsing on her bed again feeling as if he'd actually black out this time. There was no way he could be caught here. Luckily, the manager didnt know what his distinct car looked like, a hulking black Hummer with all dark windows and some modifications. Hed be dead caught here.
Phoebe didn't care what she looked like at the moment and that was probably the first time in her life, always caring about her appearance, but right now she was focused on one thing and one thing only. Paul. She hoped that he had gotten some sort of rest last night and he hope that he was feeling a little bit better. From the looks of it, it still hurt to walk which was exactly why she offered for him to sit on the couch. She felt a wave of relief wash over her when he took her up on her suggestion and say on the couch. He told her that he felt better, and he even called her by her first name for the first time, causing her to smile. This tall stony man needed to learn that even the most independent people in the world need help sometimes and he was one of them. Paul began to ramble, thankin her for everything and saying he owed her, but really it was the other way around. Letting him stay here was the least she could do, if only there was more she could do. "You don't owe me anything Paul, don't worry about." She told him with a smile on her tired face. She wondered what her manager was going to have her do today. Probably something stupid and she wouldn't get home until really late, causing her to get no sleep yet again. "I got a little." She told him when he asked if she had gotten any sleep. She had gotten enough to function, but probably not enough to make it through the day. She was sure Paul felt the same way. She doubted the fact that he got any sleep due to his wound.
"It's perfectly fine." Phoebe told him sincerely. She wasn't bothered by the mad he had made last night and he was in no shape to clean it up himself. "You shouldn't strain yourself too much. It's my pleasure to help." She said. If only he would accept the fact that she was going to do everything she possibly could to help him while he was healing. It was only fair after he had save her life, even though he didnt think so. Phoebe ran a hand through he messy hair, not caring that it was pretty much everywhere. She would take care of it later, once she figured out what to do with this large man sitting in her apartment without her manager's permission.
Phoebe wasn't expecting her manager to show up this early in the morning. He was probably her to tell her what she would be doing today. Fun. This was bad timing, very bad timing. Paul was still sitting on her couch and the only thing going through her mind was how in the world would she be able to explain this to her manager. Before Phoebe knew it, Paul was up and looking around. He needed to hide. He instantly went into her room and Phoebe followed, standing in the door away. "Just... Just stay in here until he leaves." She whispered to him a bit more panicked then she meant to. She turned on her heels, closing her bedroom door quickly. Her manager banged on the door more. "I'm coming!" She yelled, rushing to answer the door. When she opened it she stood in front of the small man, looking like she had just woke up and really she did, but he didn't even look at her as he rushed in, his face red in anger. Maybe he knew Paul was here. Phoebe's heart was beating faster and harder in her chest as her manager paced around her living room, looking like he was about to explode.
"What were you thinking!" He yelled at her, pointing a finger in her direction. "What are you talking about?" Phoebe asked completely confused. "You know exactly what in talking about!" He yelled again. At first Phoebe had thought he was talking about Paul being in her apartment, but she was wrong. He manager began going through his phone, looking for something and when he found it he marched over to Phoebe, holding it up go her to see. "Look at this?" He said in complete rage. Phoebe looked down at the phone only to see a picture of her hugging Paul at the mall, the caption reading: "Phoebe Taline saved by her bodyguard boyfriend." Phoebe's eyes got wide in shock as she took the phone out of his hands to get a better look. She scrolled down to see the comments that sad things like "what a cute couple" and "good thing her boyfriend was there". Phoebe had no idea what to think vthe stupid popurazzi took too many pictures and the even stupider media had to always make up rumors.
Because you should be able to make choices for yourself instead of relying on other people to decide for you, take this wherever you please my love
And do yiu want me to just add up to wherre the manager just barges in to find paul?
Just make up a name hahahaha and yeah that's fine
Paul remained with his eyes closed, laying down where he had been sleeping originally only minutes earlier. He could maybe fall asleep again, if his stomach didn't gurgle so. His legs were outstretched in front of him, the bed sheets tangled beside him as he lay flat on one side of the bed. The manager was here, and he couldn't imagine that it was good news. He couldn't be caught here, no matter what. He could lose his job! Phoebe wasn't a minor, he was pretty sure, but the manager would slit his throat for it. He'd be fired, and then Pauls boss would really let him have it. Why would he ever go back to special forces when he screwed up a simple bodyguarding gig? Paul sighed heavily, his arms crossed on top of his chest. There were bags under his eyes, and he just felt so gross and terrible. Sweat, dirt, blood, it was all on his skin. The OCD was really getting to paul, it made his skin crawl just looking at the dried brown stains of blood splattered on the covers he had pulled back. Oh, he felt awful. The front door busted open, an angry man shouting hysterically at Phoebe. The conversation was somewhat muffled by the closed door, but paul strained to listen anyway with his eyes wide open. He didn't dare breathe, wondering if the man knew about him being here and was therefore scolding Phoebe. He didn't understand what the big deal was. What did it matter that he was at her flat? Phoebes voice rose in confusion, a short silence falling over the apetment before he howled again. Look at this...? What was it? Paul sat up slowly in bed, breathing heavily as his head throbbed. He felt so... dizzy. The manager was stomping around the living room, his assistant giving him an odd, quizzical look. The managwr was going ballistic, fearing for his stars future. She wasn't going to have any of a future if her silly bodyguard ruined her image! He was a bodyguard. He needed to do a better job at doing his job. The manager wanted to fire Mister Greyson, but he wasn't allowed to unless Phoebe agreed and signed his release form. He had to go.
Paul felt oddly sick now, his stomach churning painfully. What..? His head spun from having gotten up so quickly, his legs hanging over the edge of the bed with his feet planted on the carpet. He wanted to throw up... Paul pressed a palm to his stomach, gritting his teeth. He was thirsty, and he needed water as soon as he could, he wouldn't be able to get back home if he didn't present himself as suitable to drive to Phoebe. Paul felt his stomach rise and fall, growling all the while. He hadn't eaten dinner last night, nor breakfast today. Yesterday he had literally eaten a couple granola bars, and for someone with his metabolism that was no good. It was well over 24 hours since he'd last eaten, he was sure. Paul had never felt so hollow and empty, so ill.
His head throbbed, and he felt his skin paling. What had he ever done to deserve this? Couldn't he just recover peacefully? Paul groaned a little louder than he had intended, falling over into the bed again. His arms wrapped around his stomach, his teeth grit as he tried not to make any more noise than was necessary. Paul moved his legs to hoist them back up onto the mattress, forgetting his limits. An excrutiatingly sharp pain stabbed at Pauls injury, and continued to intensify when he jerked his leg in reaction. His blue eyes snapped wide, a shriek escaping his lips. His stitches had snagged onto one of the blankets loose threads, pulling it along and therefore putting a strain on his black threading when he had jerked his leg away. His voice had echoed throughout the apartment, his eyes squeezed shut as he held on to his thigh with unsteady hands. His breathing was heavy again, his head pounding in his ears.
Adam snapped his attention away from Phoebe at the sound of a voice, a shout. A man's shout. His sharp eyes looked towards the source of the sound, his breathing tense and slow. What was Phoebe up to? Could it just be the neighbors? No, Phoebe lived on the very last apartment on the floor, on the edge. There was nobody on that end of the apartment. There wasn't supposed to be, anyway. The manager didn't like the way this looked. Why did the place smell like clorox, anyway? Last time he checked, Phoebe didn't wake up early to clean, or go home from a late signing to clean either. It just didn't happen. What was she up to? The mamager, suspicious and uppity on Phoebes behavior, began to march through the apartment, checking the bathroom and the laundry room for the voice. "Who's in here, Phoebe? Huh?" He demanded, his face bright red with fury. His bleach blonde hair bounced with every footstep, his hands on his hips with determination. A man's voice wasn't supposed to be in here. The managers hands placed itself over the door handle, his ear pressed to the door. There was a voice swearing softly, a rustling of the mattress. Someone was in here. Without wasting any time, he burst open through the door.
All Adam had to see was the long legged bodyguard in Phoebes bed, and he lost it. Lost. It. "Phoebe Taline!" He screeched, whirling around on her. He was livid, steaming. He couldn't handle Phoebe anymore. He couldn't handle her refusal to cooperate. She was causing way too much trouble. "Are you serious-?" He seethed, "He's your bodyguard! Your bodyguard, Phoebe! You know how bad this is for your image? Why would you even-! No! Phoebe, I'm firing him. He can't be around you anymore. You know the rules! You can't be hooking up with your bodygaurd! Oh, the media will have a field day with this, you'll be a laughing stock!" Adam was flailing his arms, gesturing to a stunned Paul sitting up now despite the fatigue. He was in trouble.
Phoebe stood there staring at the photo for the longest time. When she had hugged Paul it was out of complete kindness, no love at all. He didnt even hug her back so she wasn't sure why anyone would think they were together. They had just met a day ago! And there was no way Paul would ever date someone like phoebe. He didnt even like her. He didnt have a choice whether or not to be around her or not, well she had given him a choice earlier, but he denied her. He could've been long gone without having to ever worry about her safety if he would've just said yes. If he would've said yes he wouldn't of been stabbed and he wouldn't be hiding out in her bedroom, trying not to get caught by Adam her manager. Her mind was scrambled and she had no idea what to think. She was in complete shock of the photo and in complete fear of Adam finding Paul. If Paul was found, not only would he be fired, she would be in big trouble. But then again, didnt her manager need her consent as well to fire Paul. There was no way she was going to let Paul be fired. Her manager may think that he had done nothing but wrong, but to Phoebe he had done everything right and he deserved to be a bodyguard. He was good at it. Even though everyone in the world thought they were dating. Phoebe couldn't even imagine what he would think when he saw they pictures and the rumors. He'd probably want to quit and get as far away from phoebe as possible. She wouldn't blame him for thinking that way either. The relationship they had with each other was strictly business, anything other than that was a bit weird.
Phoeve couldn't stand to look at the photo any longer so she handed the phone back to Adam, her eyes drifting down to the floor in guilt. All because of Phoebe poor Paul was stuck babysitting her, got stabbed, and now he was being embarrassed on social media. If only there was a way she could stop all the rumors and delete all the photos. Or even go back in time and not hug Paul, or even better, pay attention a stick near Paul so he didn't get stabbed. There were so many thing she wanted to change at the moment and so many things she couldn't. She was just making Paul's life even worse. Looking up to her manager, the look on her face was full of anger and confusion. She had no idea why he would be confused, but she would soon figure out.
Phoebe heard a noise come from the direction of her room and her eyes widened in fear. It was Paul. He was being way to loud. He was going to get caught and they would both be dead. A such escaped her lips as Adam began walking towards the noise. Phoebe was praying that Paul was getting out of sight. Maybe going into the closet or even jumping out the window, anything to keep her manager from knowing he was here. "It's nobody." She answered him quickly, hoping he would just shrug it off and leave her be, but he kept at it. "I left my window open in there, something might've fell. It's pretty windy out today." Phoebe was now just making up random excuses to keep Adam out of her room. She didnt even know if it was windy out.
Adam was getting closer and closer to her room, causing Phoebe's heart rate to kick up. It felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. She could already see her manager flipping out, firing Paul and quitting his job as her manager. Phoebe's eyes sealed shut as her for was flung open, revealing Paul and that's when all hell broke loose. Her named was yelled and he kept yelling. He thought that her and Paul had been... Sleeping together. But it was far from that. He probably only had that assumption because of all the rumors. Phoebe wanted to crawl I'm a deep hole and never come out. "It's not what you think." She said quietly, scared to say the wrong thing an only make Adam even more mad. "We're not together. He was way too weak to drive home last night so I let him stay here. We didnt even sleep in the same room." She tried to explain, but she doubted it would help.
Paul had seen the door fling open before he had time to register any thoughts. He was slow and sluggish with the pain in his leg, without even an advil or something to numb his pain. He was taking in the full effects of it, lovely. Just if it wasn't enough for him to be in excrutiating pain, with his vision spinning, and his stomach flipping, now Adam was screeching at Phoebe making gestures to paul with the flail of his hands. Paul propped himself up on his elbows shakily, his ears ringing with Adams voice as his blue eyes tried to adjust. They flickered between Phoebe and her manager, a hint of fear and guilt behind those irises. This wasn't good... at all. He shouldn't have stayed here last night, he should have sucked it up for an ambulance. Now not only was he going to lose his job, but Phoebe would he grilled for this. It was just a matter of time until Paul found out about the social media spreading a selection of pictures taken by paparazzi and the fans that had watched them, when Paul had been hugged by Phoebe, when he put his hand on her back to guide her, when she looked to him. Paul would be mortified. He gripped the sheets in a spot where they were still white, his battered body laying on the bed. Paul felt a little too woozy at the moment to stand up on his own, and he didn't want to make anything worse by interjecting. His hollow pale cheeks flushed with a hint of pink, growing defensive of himself and Phoebe. She had only been trying to help him, she had let him stay in her room. They hadn't slept together, no, Paul would have never allowed it. This stupid manager needed to get out of her business, stop treating Phoebe like a child! Pauls dislike for the blonde man grew, but he held his tongue. The short man's face was bright red, his feet pacing between Phoebe and Pauls bed with the assistant standing awkwardly off to the side, silently looking at Paul and then her manager. He was nuts. And Paul didn't know what the big deal was, especially when Paul had a valid excuse for being here.
Phoebe quietly attempted to defend herself, and Paul piped up as well before the manager could burst. If Paul wasn't in such a compromising situation, he would have laughed. Short men with bleach blonde hair cut into young hairstyles just looked so silly. "Sir, please... I asked Phoebe to let me stay here, my leg was bleeding. I couldn't drive home, she let me sleep here. She slept in the living room, I promise," Pauls low voice croaked, despite the urge to scream and cry and throw a tantrum. He was just so tired, and his body ached. He hadn't had any sleep whatsoever, and he was starving. He wasnt in a good mood, and the manager wss making things worse with his hysterics. It just seemed that things couldn't get worse for Paul. He should have just gone home...
The manager didn't know what to believe, huffing and puffing. His neck was burned with his anger for the two, his eyes flashing between the two with such a hostile look. There was no doubt t about it, he was firing Paul. The guy couldn't do his job, and he had just proved his incompetence to follow directions and orders by coming here, staying in his clients apartment overnight. Injured or not, why hadn't Paul called the hospital? It didn't make sense to the blonde haired man. "Get out, Greyson, get out! I don't want to ever see you around here, again!" The manager quipped, struggling to find valid arguments to make now that Phoebe and Paul had explained their selves. Paul's battered appearance only contributed to the story, and he couldn't do much about it. Regardless, Adam was still irked. He could break something, pull his hair. Not only was the bodyguard disobeying the rules Adam had tried to set, but now, this tall man was injured. What was he supposed to do with a criplled bodyguard, push his wheel chair for him?
"You need to go to the doctor," Adam crossed his arms stubbornly, irritated he wasnt going to exactly be able fire the model's bodyguard. It was too late to call for one now, and research into their backgrounds to Adams specifications. He was picky that way, wanting only the best for the brunette model. She was his money, she kept his family going, and he wasn't going to have a silly guard. Paul had thrown his blankets aside the best he could, exposing the white sheets crusted with dry blood. He swung his legs back over the side of the mattress, struggling with his balance as he leaned his weight on one leg. Paul grunted, his eyes meeting Phoebes briefly. Paul only nodded at the Managers request that he leave, go see himself a doctor. He'd do the former, but never the latter. He wouldn't let it happen, he hated doctors. It wouldn't be a good experience. "He's injured, Phoebe, we've gotta get you someone different," Adam puffed, trying to not show relief in his eyes as he saw Paul struggling to walk.
Phoebe was completely embarrassed. Because of her actions yesterday, all of her fans thought that her and her bodyguard were a thing and her manager thought that her and him slept in the same bed together last night, but that would never happen. Not like there was anything wrong with Paul, Phoebe just wasn't the type of girl that would sleep with a man the day they met, plus the relationship her and Paul had was strictly business, but now there would be no relationship between the two of them because of what was happening. After all this there was no way her manager would let Paul within 100 miles of her. Never. All because she help him. Phoebe couldn't believe how ridiculous that was. She helped someone and they both end up getting in massive trouble because her manager is too hot-headed to listen. Having no idea what to do, Phoebe stood there with her lips pressed tightly together. There was no way she was just going to stand around and let Paul take the beating for this, although she knew she would get it later when it was just her and Adam. Both her and Paul tried explaining what really happened last night, and they seemed to get through to the manager, but he was still furious. If only there was a way to calm him down and get him to see the real picture. Couldn't he just take one look at Paul and see how bad of a shape he was in? He looke terrible, the way he swayed back and forth like he was about the pass out, and his pale complexion want helping. If that wasn't enough to prove their case, Phoebe didnt know what was.
Phoebe flinched as her manager told him to get out. She didnt want him to leave. He couldn't. He was too weak. There was no way he Wouk be able to walk all the way out to his car and then drive home. It was too dangerous, but Phoebe didnt say anything as Paul listened and stood up on his tall unsturdy legs. Phoebe instinctively wanted to rush to his side and give him a shoulder to lean on even though it wouldn't help much, it was the thought that counted. She couldn't believe what was happening. She knew the risk she was taking last night when she forced him to stay the night here. She knew there was a high possibility that they would be caught, an yet she still did it. Yes she was terrified of her manager, but she was also terrified of letting someone get injured when she couldve done something to stop it. Phoebe was more than happy to get in trouble for possibly saving Paul's life last night.
Paul began to walk weakly towards the door, and phoebe bit her lip. She couldn't practically feel how much pain Paul was going through right now. She knew he shouldn't be putting any pressure on it what so ever. He needed to lie down and rest for a few days. Her manager began speaking again, telling her that she needed to get a new bodyguard because Paul was injured. Paul was injured because he was doing his job, protecting Phoebe. He deserved to be her bodyguard, more than any other applicant Adam had interviewed. There was no way she was going to stand for this nonsense. "I don't need someone different." She told her manager with a strange bitterness in her voice, one that she had never heard before. Her manager always seemed to bring out the worst in her. She was always trying to be so kind, but he just had a special way of crawling underneath her skin and pushing her buttons. "Paul is perfectly capable of being my bodyguard and I'm not going to let you fire him because I forced him to stay here." She said. "If anything, I can just fire you and get a new manager." She threatened. She knew she had the power to do that, but without him would he even be famous?
Paul understood Adams view on getting a new bodyguard. It wouldn't make sense for Paul, who could hardly walk, to follow Phoebe around and make sure she wouldn't be jumped again by some other crazy fan. Paul was incapable at the moment of really concentrating or mustering the strength to fight Adam, how would he defend Phoebe should something happen? He couldn't run either. He was delirious from a lack of sleep, food, water, and blood, and his body ached all over from the repairs his systems were trying to make on what little nourishment he had. Paul didn't feel too good either, his stomach rumbling obnoxiously. Could he make it home? Probably not safely, but what was there to do? He couldn't walk the way back... maybe he'd succumb to taking the bus. He wouldn't want to be responsible for taking any lives on the freeway. He'd probably never forgive hismelf if he cost an innocent life, especially with his own selfish flaw. His boss would kill him. Not only had he disgrace the company by being negligent to his duties and causing a scene, but he now had ticked off the client and rendered himself useless with an injury. And he was getting fired. His boss would probably kick him out by now, he would have no choice after the inconveniences he had caused over the previous months. Constantly getting in arguments , letting his hot headed temper escalate and scare the clients, always complaining about the stupid little girls or the old rich heirs nobody cared about that he was always in charge of. Paul was high maintenance in what it took to make him satisfied, or even happy. He didn't even remember last time he smiled, or laughed at anything. Serious, they called him. It wasn't anything he could change, it was just him.
He wore a suit everyday when he was on the job, wore dark or simple colors. The most exciting his clothes got was the striped shirt he had sitting in the bottom of his dresser that his brother had given him one year. He wasnt big on color, although he would wear burgundy or navy blue for his ties or shirts on special events he had to be the bouncer for. There wasn't much to Paul, just simplicity, strict routine, and monotone. Black, grey, white. He didn't like alot of things, he kept out of the way when he could, he minded his own business most of the time. So why did people always judge him so early? Why was there this preconceived notion that he was crazy, weird? Was it his height? Or that unwelcoming stare? Or the way he grumbled everything? Maybe if he smiled, some could say. But after facing so much negativity and not having much to be happy about in the first place, who would blame him? Nobody knew what his life was like, what he experienced, what kind of things he did. He was just another face in the crowd, but they all judged them like they knew him. Adam, clearly, was one of those people.
"I will. It was a pleasure working for you," Paul mumbled stoically, gritting his teeth as his palm served as support against the smooth walls as he limped past Phoebe and Adam without wanting to look dramatic. It just hurt. Dragging himself with his arms would have been easier, but that would just be odd in front of the other two. He was strange enough. "I will let my boss know that Miss Taline requires another... guard," he added his fingers resting around the doorframe, his neck craned to look behind him for confirmation. Big whoop. He got part of his initial wish, to leave Phoebe. He doubted he'd be guarding anyone for a while, that meant no payment. How was he supposed to manage? There was no way he was going to work at a supermarket, and there wasn't much anywhere else that would hire a man like him. Especially when he was injured, and had a flaring temper. He could do desk work at the police station or something, at City Hall. .. anything that didn't deal with people.
Paul was shocked to hear Phoebe speak up before Adam could, however. The manager had barely opened his mouth with a pleased glint in his eyes, when Miss Taline boldly talked back to Adam, an edge to her voice. What? Why was she defending him for? He was useless, he was weird, he was Paul. Any person in their right mind would have sent him on his way. He thought that this would be what Phoebe wanted, perhaps a better personal security than himself, someone accustomed to the glitz and glam of celebrity life. "Excuse me, Phoebe?" Adams voice returned, cold, condescending, offended. Was the girl stupid? He was doing her a favor! What was she supposed to do with a bodyguard that couldn't possibly walk? Adam glared up at Phoebe challengingly, hiding his own fears with his hands on his hips. It didn't help that he had ridiculous blonde hair and was shorter than his supermodel client either. Paul was a bit interested to see her reasoning why, his lean frame rested up agaisnt the door jamb with his eyes flitting between the two arguing.
Paul sucked in a breath at Phoebes threat, the words echoing in the tense atmosphere. That sure shut Adam up. He looked at loss for words, opening his mouth several times then shutting it again. He was clearly stunned, in disbelief that this time, Phoebe had stood up for what she wanted. Especially when it was Paul. There was so much Phoebe could do, and Adam knew that. Without her, his company and his name would mean nothigng. He'd be publicly humiliated if she replaced him, him , after the past couple years of dedicating his life to her and bringing her to where she stood today. Would she even be famous without him? And now, Phoebe wanted to replace her own manager, instead of this decrepit bodyguard! Adam sputtered and turned red, thoroughly irritated and defenseless. She did make a good point, and everyone in the room knew it. His assistant kept her eyes to the ground, resisting the urge to crack a smile at the situation. Finally, someone had put Adam in his place. Paul almost felt bad for the guy. Almost. "F-f-fine! Fine, Phoebe! But who's gonna protect you? This - this guard can't even walk on his own two feet! You cant just stay home every day until he gets better!" Paul resisted the urge to roll his eyes, a migraine swelling in his head. The two needed to stop bickering all the time, or his head could explode.
Phoebe didnt want a new bodyguard, she side see any point in it. It had taken Adam months to find a some what suitable person for her and it was Paul. She knew he really didnt want to go through the same waiting process again, but she also knew that he would do anything to make sure Phoebe was firmly protected. Phoebe didnt like him and Adam didnt like her. That was no surprise, it had been that way since day one, but Phoebe needed him and Adam needed her. There was no way she would be where she was without him and there was no way he would be where he was without her. No matter what happened today Phoebe would get her way because Adam would do anything to make sure she was happy. With the flick of her wrist, Phoebe could fire him. She knew that there was a long line of other managers out there just waiting to get their hands on Phoebe and at this moment she was seriously thinking about checking them out. There was no reason that Paul should be fired, but it seemed that Phoebe was the only one who noticed that. He had done his job and got hurt in the process because Phoebe was stupid. Then Phoebe, being as kind as she was, made him stay at her place for the night. Nothing happened while he was here, other than pain and a restless night, but there wasn't a single reason that Paul should walk out the door with no job. Phoebe wouldn't stand for it. This whole thing was her fault. If anyone should be fired it should be her not Paul, but there was no way she could lose a career like this, so her manager was firing someone who could. Because of her Paul got stabbed, he was force to stitch himself up, he was forced to spend the night here, and now he was being fired. If she started all this there had to be a way she could end it.
Through all the chaos, Phoebe had completely forgotten about that picture. The picture that was all over social media and soon to be on the covers of every magazine cover. The picture of her hugging Paul. Now almost everyone in the world though that the two of them were dating, something that Phoebe didnt want and something she knew Paul didn't want, but she couldn't stop what the world wanted. She felt an extreme amount of guit. If Paul walked out of this apartment complex people would have another reason to back the accusation that they were dating. They would think that they had spent the night together. And poor Paul would be in the middle of it all. He had no idea about the photo and now whenever he went out on the street he would be bombarded with the media because now he was Phoebe Taline's new boyfriend.
Phoebe watched Paul began to walk towards the door and was now resting in the door frame. By that time Phoebe's spit out words she never thought she would. She threatened to fire Adam. She was so caught up in the moment she didnt know what to do. It was the only way she thought she could stop Paul from walking out the for unemployed. From the look on Adam's face it worked. Phoebe didnt know a lot about Paul, but at this moment she would rather be around the tall quiet man than this short annoying blonde one. Her heart was far too big to see Paul go, especially after he saved her life.
Adam was shocked, but Phoebe held her head high, making sure it was obvious that she was serious. Phoebe was hoping that her manager would react in the way he did because if he didnt and he didnt believe she would actually do it, Phoebe wasn't sure if she actually could pull through with her threat. Phoebe needed Adam, but there was always other people better suited for the job. She just wasn't sure she could let go of the man that got her to the top of the celebrity chain. As much as she hated him, she was very appreciative towards him. Her manager began fumbling with words, spitting them out rapidly. "I'll stay home if I have to." She said firmly. If she had to stay home and make sure Paul healed correctly she would, and there was nothing Adam could do about it. "I think it's time for you to leave now." Phoebe told him, crossing her arms over her chest.
Paul was thoroughly confused about why Phoebe even cared. It was such a big threat for something that wasn't even a big deal. He'd only been with the girl for a day, and he'd already managed to get himself fired. It wasn't anything new, he'd done the same thing before multiple times. The whole stabbing part was his fault because he hadn't been paying attention to the guy when he was down, instead Paul had gotten distracted and almost could have been killed had the man been in a different mind frame! If Paul had just paid attention, if he had just been alert like he was known to be, he wouldn't have been hurt. He wouldn't be crippled, there wouldn't be so much blood. Phoebe would have never hugged him, he would have never had to experience someone's compassion on him. He would have never stayed here overnight, and Phoebe wouldn't be in this situation right now. They'd most likely be at some other event, or whatever weird thing Adam signed her up for and expected her to participate in. Yet, here they were. All because he couldn't do his job right. It didn't matter what Phoebe thought, it was still his fault.His client seemed a little too powerful for his liking, threatening to banish Adam as her manager. She could easily do the same thing to him as her bodyguard, of course, but he didn't know what could set her off now. What if he slipped again, and she ripped her clothes or something? Dropped her handbag on the sidewalk? Would it be enough to make Phoebe tick and explode? How fragile was she? Nobody knew much about her, because no guard had lasted long enough to get personal with her. They were just the scary guys in black suits and sunglasses at all the fancy events. But Phoebe... she was so... different. Paul caught himself staring at her intently as she burned a heated look into Adams cherry red face. Why was she even doing this for him? What compelled her to be so good to him? Even the little things, like offering him Tylenol and water yesterday?
It still stuck with Paul, and echoed in his mind. He would remember that, for a while after this. Nobody had ever been that kind to him, no stranger had automatically offered hospitality to his end. He was usually the shadow, especially since he was a bodyguard figure. Nobody ever thought about the big guys in suits and sunglasses, everyone always thought that you weren't supoosed to talk to them as a rule. It wasn't a probelm, because Paul had grown up used to it, but still. He tore his bright blue eyes away from Phoebes high cheekbones, flickering his gaze lazily over to Adams scrunched face. He was so pissed. He thought he was taking such good care of the model and actress, and now all she did was throw him back down, like trash, and treasure her precious little bodyguard. Why? Mr. Greyson, in Adams opinion, had way too much malice and hatred in every look, he didn't talk, and he was too tall. Paul didn't even seem human, in Adams opinion. He still suspected that Phoebe had a little thing for Paul, and that was why she was defending him so much. It got on Adams nerves, because he couldn't do anything about it.
Shifting up against the door jamb with his weight all on his one good leg, Paul crossed his arms across his chest. His clothes were in rags, there were heavy dark bags under his eyes, and his face seemed taut with sleep deprivation. He didn't have the same crisp, put together appearance as the day before, coming off as a little more approachable with a human side to him now, this idea of imperfection and unneatness. It threw Paul off the loop, because he didn't even have shoes on. He was in someone else's house, with his clothes ripped in places he wasn't even sure why. There were stains on the fabrics, dark red ones, and his bandages were hardly holding. He felt sick still, and immensely starved and hungry. This bickering wasn't helping his massive migraine, and he was honestly considering just leaving and driving home while these two figured out their problems. He'd probably get into a car crash nonetheless, maybe even kill himself and others by doing that. It would be a disaster waiting to happen.
And so, Paul jsut went with it, allowing Phoebe to stick up for him because she wanted to, because she thought it was the right thing. Whatever. If she wanted to because it made her hapoy, then fine. He'd remain her little bodysguard... injured or not. The manager made a valid point, of his injury making it impossible to keep Phoebe safe, and she countered with a promise to stay home. Stay home the entire time his leg stitched itself up? Yeah right. That was absolutely preposterorus. She couldn't stay here for the two weeks or something that it'd take! Paul didn't speak up as usual, however, watching interested to see how it turned out. Adam, of course, nearly blew his second fuse. That man needed to seriously calm down, before Paul had the nerve to reach over and slap his silly red face. Give up, he willed the manager silently, his blue eyes steeling over in a deathly gaze. It crippled the manager, who squeaked out his weak approval for Phoebe to keep her precious bodyguard. He was convinces almost completely that there was something going on between those two. It made no sense. Phoebe was a suoermodel, he was a low income bodyguard loser. What did she even think about him? He wasnt even nice!
Paul had to speak up, because he wasn't going to stand for Phoebe making stupid decisions she'd regret. "Miss Taline! Stay home? You understand how long that could take? Just allow another bodyguard, while I'm gone," Paul tried to reason with her. Almost two weeks was too much. It probably wasn't even enough for his leg to heal completely again. The manager was a stubborn little mule, making irritated noises as he stalked past Phoebe without another word towards the front door. His little doll faced assistant scurried after him, the front door opening and slamming with finality. Adam had been so miffed that he didn't have value to Phoebes life, that she was willing to get rid of him that easily. She kicked him out of her apartment! Amd what, all for some stupid Paul Greyson boy? The manager wss gone in a flurry of expensive tires, leaving Paul and Phoebe alone in the apartment still. "Whyd you do this for me?" Paul asked, hid voice hardly above a whisper. He was still leaned up against the door jamb, staring The model down. She was so weird. He didn't know why she even cared so much, why she had to have hin be her bodyguard so badly. He wasn't even someone who smiled! "Do you mind if i... grab something to eat?" He added abruptly, his voice weak and less powerful than the day before. He was just so exhausted.
All Phoebe wanted was for her manager to leave. She was very annoyed with him. Why couldn't he just give her what she wanted right now? She wasn't trying to be a spoiled brat, she just knew that what she was doing right now was the right thing and she wasn't going to let this silly man with hair too bright to look at get in her way. She was even being rude and angry to get it, something Phoebe never was. She always tried her best not to her angry and yell or be rude to other people, but this man was just pushing her buttons today and there was so much going on at the moment she couldn't handle it. Phoebe was cracking under the pressure to make sure Paul stayed exactly where he was. She wanted to help him feel better an she wanted him to stay here until the time being since he refused a hospital. Her eyes flicked back and forth from her angry manager to the injured Paul standing in the door frame. She could see the pain edging his face and she wished he would just go on back to bed because she knew he would be staying here for the next week or so whether Adam agreed with it or not, whether he was her manager or not. Phoebe had just met Paul yesterday, but she cared for him and she wanted him to get better. That's just how phoebe was. She had a massive heart and she always tried to help people no matter the case. She wasn't the stuck up high fashion model everyone thought she was. She wa a down to earth thoughtful everyday person that was going to stop and nothing to make sure Paul was in good health.
Phoebe was angry and she let her face show it when she looked at Adam. She wanted to make sure she got her point across to him, to make sure he knew not to mess with her. That's when Paul spoke up, telling her she couldn't stay home for that long and that she should just get another bodyguard, but she refuse. She was content with Paul and looking at what she had started there was no way she was backing down now. She simply shook her head firmly at him as Adam walked over to the door, lenient with a dark storm could over his head. Phoebe knew he would leave like she told him to. There was no way he was going to let her have that much power an fire him. He had a wife and kids at home, who knew how disappointed they would be when he came home to tell them he lost his job and he was no longer Phoebe Taline's manager any more.
As soon as the door closed behind Adam and tense silence flooded the apartment as Phoebe stared down at her bare feet, unsure if she should look up and face Paul. She didnt know if he was angry or happy with her that she kept his job for him. Maybe he was mad at her because he wanted nothing to do with babysitting someone like her. He broke the silence asking why she did that. Phoebe was unsure how to answer at first. "I-I don't know." She said quietly. "I just want you to get better." She finished, looking up at him. Then he asked her if he could grab something to eat and Phoebe shook her head, looking at the way he was putting all his weight onto the door frame, unable to stand up himself. If he couldn't stand up on his own how was he going to walk to the kitchen. "I want you to get back in bed." She told him gently, walking towards him so she could at least help a little bit to walk back to her bed.
The silence in the apartment would have been otherwise welcome, had his stomach not been grumbling, and his leg not been killing him. With Adam out of the way and the threat of his job as well as the added fuss over how he'd get home having diffused, Paul could breathe a little easy again. It wasn't like the little platinum blonde manager frightened him, he just couldnt lose his job. He was running out of options here. For what she had done, Paul would be ever greatful, determined not to let her down now more than ever. He'd be the best at his job when he healed again, and he'd prove Miss Taline right for defending him. She wouldnt look like a fool on his watch, not after all the trouble shed gone through with him. She had even chosen him over her own manager, someone who she owed more loyalty to than him. When she responded to him, however, he couldnt help but snort. She didn't know why she helped him? Was she that ready to jump into things like that without thinking it over? Phoebe would regret it after a few days of staying indoors, he knew it. Paul didn't argue with Phoebe, though, heaving a heavy sigh that slouched his shoulders.He was touched, he truly was, by her kind gestures. Assisting him with sewing up his own leg, risking her popularity by allowing him to stay here, in her bed and ruin alla her sheets, and now insisting on him keeping his position as Phoebe Taline's steel gazed bodyguard. It certainly might not have seemed like a big deal to anyone else, and her actions were relatively something you could expect and hope for in his situation. However, it wss more than any one person had done for Paul his entire career, excluding his family members. Paul just hadn't been popular with anyone, he'd never been the one people favored. He was silent, as if thoughtful for fora moment, before he shifted his weight agaisnt the door frame. "Thank you, Miss Taline," Paul bowed his head at a slight angle, then leaving the matter at what it was. If she so insisted and wanted to be so sure about keeping him, then he'd let the river run his course. He was being paid to do this anyway, and handsomely.
Paul bit down on the inside of his cheek and let his blue eyes drop to the floor when Phoebe shook her head, a bit miffed. So he could stay in her house, but not eat? That was the catch? He was slightly confused and skeptical, and his suspicions were confirmed when Phoebe insisted that he lay to rest. He didn't want to get in bed, it wss the last place he wanted to be today, but he knew it was for the better. Not only did Paul's body need time to recover and devote it's energies to repairing his slashed leg, but he was low on sleep. Without the tensions of wondering if Adam was going to run in again, Paul maybe could sleep a little easier. And that was if he could overcome the pain in the first place, as he refused to go to the hopsital for the knock out drugs he needed. He knew a little home remedy for it, but he wasn't too keen on accidentally fatally misdosing.
Puffing air from his cheeks, Paul gave a reluctant nod, his pale blue eyes searching the room for the easiest route that could use the aid of the walls and furniture to get him safely into bed. The bed itself just seemed so terribly far away, the floor between him and the sheets seeming like a vast ocean of treacherous waters. Paul edged against the wall to his left, taking forced controlled breaths as his leg smarted with every limp. He was lucky if his stitches didn't pop open, or something else nasty happened. A few times, Paul paused and panted heavily where he stood, his hands clutching his thigh, before he would proceed without any help from Phoebe. It was two long dreary and torturous minutes later that Paul was in Phoebes bed again, stretching out on the expanses of the mattress comfortably. He couldn't be more grateful for her offer. Although his leg ached, it was an immense relief to be on his back, off his good leg.
Paul didn't fall asleep yet, his eyes open and watching Phoebe keenly from where he lay and adjusted his pillows. "And if you could... get a Tylenol or something, even an advil..." Paul added softly, his voice much gentler than the tones he'd been using the day previous. He owed it to his client to be nice, for all the efforts and sacrifices she was offering to help him out. It pleased Paul that someone, especially someone he hadn't been so loving and gracious towards, someone had wanted him to stay. It even cheered Paul up enough to see the bright side in things for omce, that he wouldn't be back in his dark, depressing apartment recovering by himself, with no job. Here, he sort of had... a friend. Granted, Paul didn't trust Phoebe with much, nor would he ever will, but he enjoyed company in the least.
As soon as Adam slammed the door behind him, the tension in the room vanished. Now it was just her and Paul. There was nothing tense about that. Although, he's physical appearance was quite intimidating. Phoebe had gotten used to it though. She had gotten used to him actually, which was strange because they had only met yesterday. She enjoyed being in his presences for some weird reason. She just wished he would come out of his shell and open up to her, maybe even smile. If that was possible. Phoebe was determined to become his friend and make him laugh. Did he even laugh? Who knew. Phoebe could see how much he was struggling to stand up. He needed to sit down and rest and heal. His wound would never heal if he stood there the whole time. She heard him thank her and it was a genuine thank you. It made Phoebe feel good. She knew that constant helping everyone in sight would pay off eventually.A thank you was an amazing gift for doing that. She didnt need clothes or money or any other materiel thing. She was set on earning the hearts and trust of those around her, especially Paul who seemed like a very tough but to crack, but she could tell that somehow she was getting through.
Phoebe was so grateful that Paul decided to agree with her and get back in bed. She just didnt want him on that leg any longer. It hurt Phoebe just looking at him. Plus, she didnt want him in the kitchen making a mess. Not after what he did last night, not that she didnt mind, she just wanted to help and not make him do everything by himself when he was badly injured. He made his way through the apartment very painfully and very slowly. Her bedroom wasn't far at all from the door but she could only imagine how far away it was for him. Probably miles. She stood beside him the entire time, ready to help when he needed it, but it seemed as though he was content on grinning and bearing it all the way to her bed. She wished he didn't. She wished that he would just let her take care of him. She knew why he was doing for the most part.
As soon as Paul got situated in bed, she stood by his side and he asked if she could get him some Tylenol. She had no problem getting that, but as she looked down at his leg she grimaced. "I'll get you something to eat and medicine as soon as I clean that out and get you a new bandage." There was no way he could deny that. He had I be uncomfortable in that bloody rag. He if didnt let her redress his wound he wasn't getting any medicine or food. Phoebe also noticed how tattered his clothing was. That was something she couldn't help. She had no extra clothes for him here and if she went out to buy him some it would be hard to find something at fit. "I'll be right back." She told him calmly before turning and heading to the bathroom to get a new gauze.
Paul nodded extremely graciously, bobbing his head in agreement in response. He felt so miserable at the moment that anything sounded good for the moment. His heavy appetite which hadn't been fulfilled in the past day or so was clearly showing through his weakened state, made even worse by his new handicap. It worried him a bit, knowing that now, he was defenseless against anyone. Unless he had a weapon, he couldnt do anything to help Phoebe if someone intruded and tried to hurt her. "Yes, please... thank you, Miss Taline," he mumbled softly, feeling ever indebted to her hospitality. He knew for certain if she ever got injured, he'd make sure her every last need was fulfilled, he'd change all her bandages, he'd make sure she was hydrated, had her medicine, he'd make sure she was occupied with something to do. He'd been in bed for far too long in his opinion, and it wasn't a good spot to be. He was sick of being so useless and pitied upon, he didn't like to rely on others to make sure he was taken care of. All his life he'd been basically alone, he'd been independent. Now that he was here... he didn't like how this felt. Adjusting himself in bed, Paul arranged the sheets around him, trying not to look at the blood stains and dirt from his clothes on them. Phoebe left his presence with a promise to be back, her figure disappearing into the bathroom. Meanwhile, Paul untied his makeshift bandage wrappings, the one made up of tattered shirt and some paper towel mixed with bandaids. It hurt. So. Bad. Tears stung the corners of his eyes naturally as he grunted, tugging the material free from its confusing wraps. He was well to do when it came to first aid, and had done well plenty of times by himself, but in such terrible conditions as he was now, with blood loss and a numbness in his leg, he was was a little panicked. Sweat beaded on Paul's broad forehead as he unraveled the last cloth strip, laid neatly next to the others on his lap.
He was filthy, he smelled horrid, and he had caused so much damage. If only he'd been paying attention the day before, this wouldn't have happened. If he wasn't such a crappy bodyguard, none of this would have happened! Paul sucked in a breath as he examined the minor gash in his thigh, his lips pursed. This was nothing rhat would heal quickly, nor heal nicrly. It was just another scar to accompany his collection, all similar ones formed because of his refusal to go to a hospital for actual help. The black thread in nest criss cross stitches shined up at him on his pink skin, traces of blood and ointment remaining on the wound. He swore under his breath softly as he tried to move his leg a little for mobility, to test his strength, realizing that this wouldn't be back to his normal for at least a few weeks.
Phoebe could be heard scrambling in the bathroom, and he didn't know what exactly to think of her. She was so... nice. She let him stay on her apartment, she let him sleep on her expensive looking bed. She let him risk her publicity, she got into a fight with her manager because of it. As annoying as the man was, Paul didn't want any drama among anyone, and it was unsettling to him. When others didn't rush to his aid, she did. She helped him. Now, Phoebe was determined even to stay indoors to his comfort so that he could heal, until he could bodyguard her again. It was a real sacrifice at that, especially knowing how popular he knew Phoebe to be. She was beautiful, successful, friendly, undetestable, kind, and here she was, with him. Of all people. She thought about others before herself, she thought about his job and how his position could be compromised with his being fired. Although Paul didn't agree with it one bit, he didn't have the energy to fight her. He rested his head against the headboard, taking a deep breath and sighing.
