Don't Struggle

The phone rings incessantly - a loathesome noise.
My hand scrambles blindly on the floor for a couple of seconds, before: "Hello? Yeah, she's right here. Hang on-"
I scrape the hair from my face and lean up on both elbows. There's Adam holding the phone to his chest, en eyebrow raised expectedly.
I snatch it from his hand and crawl out of the bed - last nights clothes crumpled against my skin, leaving a collage of prints over my body.
"Hello?" The word crackles out of my mouth, so I take the seconds silence to clear my throat.
"Miss Norton?" the fellow asks hopefully.
"Yes?"
"I'm Dr. Carter from Dioralopp Hospital, I'm calling on behalf of a patient-"
"Jesse? Jesse Lacey?" I cut him off desperately.
"Yes. Mr Lacey is fine, ma'am. Please, don't worry yourself. We were just wondering if you could bring him some extra clothes down, since his stay here has been somewhat extended due to the chemotherapy."
His words float through my barely functioning brain, as I look back at the clock.
He rang me at ten in the morning to ask for extra clothes?
"Uh, yeah. Yes, of course. I'll be coming back this afternoon anyway, so-"
"Ah, yes. Mr Lacey also asked me to pass on the message that you should get as much rest as possible, before returning to the hospital to stay. About a weeks worth of clothes would be perfect. Thank you, Miss Norton."
The sudden farewell takes me by surprise, I stutter some sort of reply before he hangs up on me.
Turning back to the bed, I see Adam cross-legged, watching me in awe.
"Well?"
The phone lands on the bed beside him, as I kneel at the cupboard.
"It was the hospital. They want more clothes. He's staying longer!" I glance at him as I groan the last word, tears begin stinging my bloodshot eyes.
My mood takes a downward turn from its already macabre state, and I begin seizing lumps of Jesse's clothes from our cupboard and launching them towards the door.
"He might as well live in that fucking place-" I mumble, snatching more from hangers.
"I might as well sell this fucking flat! We only bought the wretched thing for the two of us, but you spend more time in my bed than Jesse, for Christ's sake! I should just fucking marry yo-"
"Steph!" Adams arms come down around me, instantly calming and pausing me from throwing another batch of Jesse's clothes.
"Don't say that." He sighs firmly, taking the load off my hands. "You shouldn't even have thought it."
He pulls a bag from the cupboard and starts picking shirts and pants up from around the room, folding them and laying them neatly inside.
The breath catches in my throat - I back up against the wall, then slide down till I'm sat on the floor, crying.
"What would I do without you, Adam?" I gasp, barely audible. However, his head turns in response to my quiet stutter, a caring eyebrow israised.
"Turn up at the hospital with a load of messed-up clothes?" he smirks, lifting the bag onto his shoulder.

We sit in the same seats we've been in for the past twenty minutes.
My stare aims out of the window, as I dig my nails into the knees of my jeans.
"Are you coming in too?" I ask Adam, who has been sat patiently in the driver's seat the whole time.
"Not if you don't want me to."
Another decision - I sigh, tilting my head, a little guilty. He just nods, in understanding.
"Thank you." I throw his a half-arsed smile and climb out of the car, the bag on my back.
The route to Jesses's room is implanted in my brain; I could do it in the dark and grab a coffee on the way there.
When it comes time to push open the final door, my hand freezes by my side and I stare at the handle.
I don't know where I got the idea that this should be easy, at all.
Two light knocks.
The handle turns with a click; I slip through the crack in the open door, before closing it gently behind myself.
I take a position at the foot of his bed, clinging to the rucksack for material comfort.
"Come here, baby." He smiles for me - it's worn and neglected. I can hardly recognise him.
A small shake of my head is all I can manage, and I cover my mouth with shaking fingers.
An awkward silence follows. His cheerless eyes mimic my mood.
"I brought all the clothes you need." I slide the bag from my shoulder and place it at his feet.
He watches me - does he notice how I avoid his eyes, avoid looking at him alltogether?
"I don't need them. I need you!" he tells me desperately.
"I'm moving out, Jesse." The words fall out of my mouth rather fast, but I hope to God that he heard.
I drop the apartment keys on the bed and rush out the door.
On the main corridor, I break into a run - I cannot get out of this place fast enough.