SATURN, levi ackerman ✓

first ; y/n

i remember that time i received
a call from your mom the day
you were brought into the hospital.

"it's nothing serious," she says
but she knew, and i knew that
it was just herself trying to make
this hurt a little less. "he will be
alright."

and i tried to believe her because
i knew you were strong. i knew
that you would get through it
because you promised me again
and again that it was us,
forever.

days turned into weeks, and
weeks into months and we
just never got the signal that
you will be okay. from then
on it was just me convincing
myself and your mother.

but really, what did i expect?
we're people living in a world
where happy endings aren't
established.

i wish that wasn't the case.

8 months.

the hospital almost felt like
a home but it didn't-
because i did not want to be
in it and i can't call what will
probably be the place of your
death a home. not today,
tomorrow, or ever.

32 weeks.

since then i've had no choice but
to hear you say "i will make it."
and i don't want to hear it anymore.
i don't like false hope and neither
do you but what other choice did
you have in trying to make me
feel better?

it won't work because when you
say it i can only hear a flashback
of your light sobs from when i
exit your room.

i hear it all loud and clear
due to it constantly ringing in
my head, and i hate it. i hate
you for making me feel
hopeless.

i just want it to stop.

224 days.

it has exactly been two hundred
and twenty four days since the
stars in your eyes have died.

and i can't accept the fact
that you soon will, too.