He was still intubated, and the periodic rush of the machine ventilating him and forcing his chest out was disconcerting. He’s still in deep, apparently.
A little while later, Terra joined me in his room, and removed the intubation unit, assisted by the doctor I understood to be the surgeon in charge of his operations.
G
uess he’s coming up from the sedation from the surgeries now, and has resumed breathing on his own.
Terra sat with me for a little while, and then was called away. We didn’t speak the entire time she was here, but it was comforting.
W
as sort of numb u
ntil I decided to touch him. H
ad previously just been sitting next to him, absorbing the still nothingness.
The moment I touched him, all of it flowed into me.
Almost
burst into tears, clutching his hand in my own, kissing it softly between cries.
How could this happen to him? It wasn’t fair. It was so wrong.
There was nothing I could do.
J
ust sat beside him and cried and cried, drying my eyes on his hospital blanket.
That’s a beautiful line, maybe.
C
ried until Terra checked in on us.
T
hink I’m out of tears.
78 Days, 11 December, Thursday
T
hink the number one thing I’m going to have to get used to
is
the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor. It grates on my mind, a secondly reminder that that his heart is still beating.
Ticking clocks are the same.
I’m waiting for him to wake up, listening to the sounds of the heart monitor and watching the drip of the IV in the light from the digital displays.
Terra insisted I come home with her, but I ardently declined. Someone had to be here when he woke up, and I knew nobody would stay but me.
S
ighed, glancing at the clock on the wall.
It’s 8:17.
H
ad fallen asleep in the chair and
not realised it was morning. G
ot up and stretched, hearing my back crack a few times.
Noah was still sleeping with the bed tilting upwards slightly. His raven-black hair caught some of the light filtering through the curtains, shining amidst all of the white. But it was the only saving grace.
He looked… wretched.
The swelling on his face had receded the tiniest amount, leaving behind even darker bruising. His cheeks were sunken, hollowed out like all substance had left him.
Even though they’re horrible, and I’m wishing them away, those cuts and bruises add
colour
to his otherwise black and white body. But he’s
more white
than anything, pale skin, white bandages, white hospital smock.
C
an abide the bandages, they’re necessary to heal
him,
it’s the smock I don’t like.
It makes him look sicker, pinched. Like it’s several sizes too large for him and he looks smaller for it. He seems to be drowning in the white, disappearing and fusing with it until all you could see were the brilliant
colours
of the bruises and the sharp black of his hair.
G
lanced up at the IV, praying there was some sort of potent painkiller coursing down into his arm.
Sighing, I sank back down into the chair, stretching my legs out.
I
rem
… what was I writing?
I remained in that position for a few minutes when I saw him move. Terra did say that once the sedation wears off
he’ll
start to wake up soon.
It wasn’t a huge movement, but slow and deliberate. His left hand, the one closest to me, opened and closed a few times, and then went still.
G
ot up slowly, making my way to his bedside, my hopeful expression dropping as I realised his eyes were still closed.
Then I realised that tears were leaking from the corners of his eyes, running down his face and soaking into the bandages around his neck.
Hesitantly, I touched his shoulder
, and felt a flu
rry of emotion rush into me. I
nstantly felt more miserable, and the added feelings of fatigue, loneliness and huge amounts of pain joined as well.
This pain seemed to be a phantom feeling, not physical, but deeply mental.
And all I could think of was
him
.
That’s what he’s experiencing.
All those emotions and feelings attacking him and not allowing him a peaceful rest.
It’s so unfair.
W
ant to grab hold of him, even if it hurts him, and just pull him up out of this whole situation.
Maybe that’s why I felt that the first time I was in here.
That strong feeling, forming itself into words as it pervaded my body.
I want to die. I want to die. I want to die.
He just wanted the same thing as me, to be free of this time, this place,
these
circumstances.
But this is our reality, and we have to face it.
D
id end up going home with Terra tonight, but I’m going back to the hospital as soon as I can tomorrow.
77 Days, 12 December, Friday
It seems his father’s lie about Noah being attacked by a burglar proved to vindicate him. People around the hospital are praising him as a hero, protecting his home and family with his life.
It’s fortunate that this lie ended up being something that redeems him in many people’s opinions.
May visited today. Conversations with her are, as usual, a bit odd.
“Hello.”
L
ooked up, and saw her standing at the door. She was still wearing her school uniform, and had her stuffed cat with her. “How are you today, Aerian?”
“
’m
okay, how are you doing?”
“I suppose I cannot complain. I am more concerned for my brother at this point.” She strode in, taking off her backpack and approaching his bed. Delicately, she stepped onto the small stool beside the bed, and then placed her stuffed cat next to where he lay, unresponsive.
“Big brother, I am going to leave Carmichael here to guard you.” The expression on her
face had very subtle
changes,
think she was trying not to cry.
C
an’t blame her; if it
were
Terra in that situation, I would feel awful too. May leant over his bed, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “I love you, big brother.”
Hopping off the stool, she looked at me, her piercing blue eyes momentarily disarming. “Will you walk with me, Aerian?”
G
lanced at him, not wanting to leave his side for any reason.
“He will not wake up until tomorrow, I assure you. Now, will you come with me?”
S
tood up, and she took my hand, “I need to tell you something.” She said softly, as we walked down the hallway. “There’s someone else who is going to be important to my brother. I met him a few days ago. He is the angel of autumn, Adarcel. He is meant to be with Talvi, not my brother.”
“Wait, Talvi? Who’s that?”
“He is the angel of the springtime. I believe you’ve met him.”
“Huh?” We sat down in the sunroom area. There was only one other elderly lady. “Can you start again,
this time explain
a little more?”
“My brother is an angel.” She said this like it was something I should already know.
How does one respond to that? She said it so seriously. But I guess if I’ve spent all this time believing in curses and psychics, angels really aren’t a huge leap.
“He’s the angel of winter,” she continued, “Something he will not realise for a very long time. And even when he does realise it, he will deny himself of it. Because of you.”
“
Er
… why?”
“Angels typically have another counterpart, a balance to their particular type of power. Otherwise, the universe could become unstable. Something akin to the relationship between Lucifer and Michael is mirrored in all other angels. There must be a balance.”
“So why would he not accept he’s an angel because of me?”
“Because when you die, he will take it as proof that you weren’t his guardian angel and that he himself is not one. He will be consumed by worthlessness.”
I swallowed, “How do… how do you know?”
“I am a clairvoyant.”
“Why can’t I live? Is there something I can do to change what’s going to happen?”
“There’s nothing you can do now.” May folded her hands in her lap, looking down at them. “I wish I could tell you something else, Aerian, but the truth is, you only have 77 days left here.”
“But…” I began, and she looked at me, with blue eyes just like his. “That’s not enough. I need more time.”
“There’s nothing to be done.”
“I need more time!” I shouted at her, my frustration running away with me, “Don’t tell me things like
this if you can’t help me!” N
oticed the elderly lady was staring now, but I didn’t care. “You can’t do that to me! And how dare you resign your brother to that? Don’t you want to do everything in your power to make sure he’s happy
?!”
“There’s nothing I can do for you, Aerian Guildenstern.”
“Nothing for me, but what about
him?!
Can’t you help him when I’m gone? Isn’t there something you can
do?!
You said you love him, but you’re going to just let him be miserable
?!”
“He will not accept my help when that time comes.”
“So you’re just going to give up on him? You won’t even try
?!”
“I understand that you are angry, Aerian Guildenstern, but there is no escaping a fate once it has been written. And yours has already been decided.”
“Nothing is written in stone about my fate.”
“No, but it is written in time, which will destroy any stone.”
W
ent silent, there was nothing I could say to that. There was a lengthy silence, and she looked at me intently the whole time.
“I’m sorry for yelling.” I said eventually.
“You’re anger is perfectly justified. I am sorry I had to give you this information, but it will help you in the future.”
She stood up, and grabbed both my hands, standing in front of me. “You can still be happy. Take this as insurance. You may have 77 days of happiness with him. There will be trials, without a doubt, and you will play the role of his guardian angel, no matter how temporary the position.” She kissed my forehead, and I didn’t move, staring at our hands. “A temporary angel is better than nothing.”
As she was leaving, she turned, offering me one last piece of reassurance. “Both of you will be happy. I promise. It’s just a matter of time.”
S
tayed with him all day, and into the night, even though I knew May would be right, and he wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow.
76 Days, 13 December, Saturday
May predicted correctly. Today was the day Noah woke up.
It was a slow process, he was in and out briefly in the afternoon, but wouldn’t respond to anything.
Around 9:30, when I was just beginning to feel tired, I n
oticed he was looking at me. D
oubt he can see very well, actually. There’s only a tiny glimmer if his beautiful blue eye through his lashes.
But I know he’s looking at me. There’s intensity in that cloaked steady gaze.
S
tood up
slowly
, and touched his hand, getting the usual shock of pain and fatigue. “Noah… You’re back…”
He couldn’t respond; I’m not surprised, there were enough bruises around his jaw and throat that it would probably be too much effort.
As if to communicate with me, he squeezed my hand twice. Something new buzzed to life under my touch.
Something like happiness, or gratitude.
It was so different from the other feeling
s he was projecting before. R
an my fingers across his face, and felt him lean into my touch slightly.
“Aerie…” he whispered, almost imperceptible.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to talk.”
He nodded, and closed his eyes again. He stayed asleep for the rest of the day until I went home. As I was getting ready to leave, I kissed him gently.
It occurred to me that it would be less weird to kiss him now that he’s conscious, even if h
e was still asleep. W
ould have seemed pointless to kiss him when he was still under.
W
as making hot chocolate when Terra came home. We drank it in silence, taking solace in each other’s company. The companionable silence if comforting when there aren’t machines whirring and beeping and letting people know your vitals.