Grip

If I were only able to grasp your hand, I would never let go.
If I could caress your cheek, then finally you'd know.
That no matter what, I'd always be here.
Loving you hopefully while you shedded a tear.
But then when I lost my grip, all would fall.
And I couldn't be loved after all.

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6. Chapter 1

I wasn't really expecting anything amazing too happen; we were just going to help those in need, surely that would be it.

Apparently not.

It was what must of been our twelfth room when I finally saw her, pale and ill but yet still the most elegant human on the planet. We all trailed into her room before seating ourselves round her bed. I was so close to her that I could see the tiny freckles that scattered themselves along the bridge of her nose in a seemingly perfect formation. Cute, I liked that.

She coughed suddenly which alone was enough to make me worry. I scanned her, looking to see if she was in any pain, when I finally came across the hundreds of paper creations which lined her bed. It was only when Liam asked her I really understood.

"A crane." She said, a rosemary blush tinting her cheeks, "One of my seven hundred and fifty six cranes - fifty seven." She corrected herself as she finished the one she was making prior, "Only two hundred and forty three to go."

She truly was wonderful, taking all that time to fold those cranes. I was about to ask her why when Zayn beat me too it. But then the most terrible thing happened.

She began to cry.

I don't particularly know why I was so fond of this girl and her seven hundred and fifty seven cranes; why she affected me so badly, the way no one else did. I don't know how I let Niall beat me to comfort her, his reassuring words making me angry at my own band mate. She shook her head tearfully before desperately trying to signal to us with her hands. Louis got the hint easily before running off to find her some paper and a pen. That was the first time I had ever been jealous of Louis' skills at that otherwise petty game of charades.

Once Louis had returned, she started to write immediately.

It's not the question.

She wrote.

It's the fact that I am so helpless and vulnerable while your one direction. You shouldn't have time for me; we're from two different worlds.

I couldn't stand to hear (well, read) her putting herself down like that. I started to protest pointlessly as she quickly silenced me again under the skill of her pen.

The story of the one thousand paper cranes is a Japanese wives tale. It says that before her wedding day, the bride to be must of folded a thousand paper cranes and then her wish may be granted. The wish is my only hope.

It was traumatic yet sweet at the same time; hoping on an old foreign wives tale, the trauma being that she really needed hope.

"Well, what would you wish for?" I asked her. expectantly. In that one moment, her beautiful chocolate gaze caught in mine for a few beautiful seconds until she broke it, only to start writing again.

Too live.

My breath hitched in my throat.

I can't afford the treatment I need to be cured, the only income I receive is from my Aunt who is your standard office worker. I get a donation from her each month - it's enough to pay for my standard medicine and just about enough to keep me alive. It's a kind gesture and asking for another two thousand pounds isn't fair. She's met me only twice since my parents died but she still supports me. She is the single thread of family I have left...

"We..." What was I meant to say, how could I possibly comfort such a beautiful yet broken soul? "What's your name?" I asked in stead, the angels name still unknown.

"Sophia. Sophia Bell."

I smiled gleefully, her voice unbroken, music to my ears. And I was the one who managed to do it. "That's a beautiful name - and it's great to hear your voice." I told her before the nurse returned, telling us we had to go.

I gripped her hand tightly before whispering into her ear, "Until we meet again."

My promise hanging silent in the air.

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