Make me yours

Chapter 22

Heyy babes, 

This chapter makes me feel strange about it. I don't hate it but I am not proud of it either. And I really wanted it to be good because of how important it is. It's intense, to say at least. Anyway, tell me what you think about it. 

So I made this playlist sometime ago, it's the one I listen to when I am writing this fic. And if you listen carefully it tells the story. Don't listen too carefully tho, otherwise, you'll get spoilers. Follow the playlist <33. 

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6x1BKSMRK0MO7BhJrO7w75?si=8e05a36190314e01

Love you and thank you for 3k reads it feels huge. Love you all, stay safe.

The stars shine bright on such a dark sky. The night isn't cold. Maybe it is. The alcohol on my body wouldn't let me feel it. My back is comfortable laid against the lawn and I have a bottle of something tasteful but really alcoholic on my hand; however, my eyes are on the sky and its beautiful stars. 

They are so beautiful, so small, so shiny, so peaceful. Like they are some kind of dots of hope that were sown on a sky of darkness. Maybe that's where dead people go. I mean that's what adults tell children, isn't it? 

"Don't worry, child. You can look up to grandma, she is up there, in a star. Looking down at you." 

All of that is because the human being doesn't feel comfortable with the idea of being so insignificant that its end will be being eaten by insects or burn into ashes, or whatever you think you chose. Surprise, surprise. That's exactly what we all are, insignificant. 

Death is nothing more than a dreamless sleep, black, nothing. The end. There's nothing there, stop lying to yourself. You die, that's it. Game over or whatever. 

Unless you are like my grandmother who is still deciding my future from her dusty grave in her glorious garden on her too big to be comfortable house. I almost laugh at that thought. I was more of a creation, a plan b, to her than I was her own granddaughter. 

"Do you believe there's something after death?" I whisper in a voice that sounds too light to be discussing a topic like this. My head turns to look at Mattheo instead of the stars, he is already looking at me, his lips wet from the drink we are sharing and his eyes wild and shinny. Like stars. 

"No, not at all." His voice is rough little it always is when he is drunk. There is a moment of silence before he cracked laughing. "The human being can't stand the idea that they are not important at all and just like everything we will end and that's somehow funny to me."

My drunken brain has trouble remembering how we got here but I still try. 

I read my grandmother's letter, cried more than I thought possible, Mattheo was surprisingly affectionate hearing every complaint I had about how unfair the universe is to me and stuff like that. He didn't call me dramatic once and just answered in a way that made me feel understood and somehow less miserable. 

Then with red and puffed eyes after almost begging God (who I decided has turned its back on me even tho Mattheo told me over and over again that there is no such thing as a superior being) to make my life somehow better I asked Mattheo to make me forget all my problems. 

"You wanna get high or something?" He asked me then, his eyes showing a little excitement even tho he tries to hide it. His voice is so soft, his hand still on my leg even after such a long time of me whimpering and endless complaints about everything but him. 

Because he has done nothing wrong to me in a long time. Hasn't called me woman with his disgusted voice, hasn't made any joke that hurt my feelings, hasn't been mean at all in a long time, not even rude, not even defensive. Nothing but this softness in his eyes and tone.