Dying and Everything in between

9| Friends

─── ･｡•̩̩͙˚｡✧: *. .*:✧•̩̩͙･ﾟ｡─── 

Lucas didn't know what he was looking for until he found himself in the parking lot, searching for a particular someone.

He didn't have a plan. He never really had a plan in life, and somehow his life wasn't going too bad. But right that moment, he probably should have had one. Mostly because it would make things a lot easier and portray him as less of an idiot.

He didn't know why he walked all the way out here when he could simply shrug his shoulders and go back to Laura's office and waste time like he usually did up there. There wasn't a need to chase after Joy- or well if you could even call this chasing after someone. 

For all he knew, Joy was probably alright. Joy probably had everything handled, but the nagging in the back of his mind was driving him crazy. The only reason he could be doing this was to ease his conscience. 

Anyway, it didn't take long for Lucas to find Joy. She was sitting by a concrete wall, eyes focused on the floor.

It was ridiculous, but as he approached Joy, already out of breath, his chest flooded with this particular warmth. It blossomed in clusters, though with every bloom, it ached more than his inability to properly breathe.

Lucas tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about all the time Joy showed she cared.

The early morning talks before meetings. The occasional smoothie run. The 'how are you' that turned into fond insults. The bucket list. The smiles. The laughs. The comfort.

It wasn't some big, extreme realization. Lucas didn't have any dramatic, cliché music blaring in the background, nor was there any rain or a will to run thrumming through his veins. Instead, his heart just tightened, and his face felt warmer than it should have been.

And then the guilt settled in. Or rather, it punched him in the gut, and before she reached her side, he nearly stumbled, realizing how rude he was.

Lucas wasn't stupid. When you were dying, you somehow have a heightened sense of how you treat people, and while some try to ignore it, Lucas just couldn't. He remembered every single word he said, and a part of him would linger on each syllable, wondering how the gravity of his decision could impact someone.

Lucas didn't like hurting people. As much as people hurt him, he didn't want to leave this world, hurting the people he cared about more than he already was.

But Joy? As much as he disliked her and as much as he wished that Joy wouldn't care so much for him, Lucas couldn't bring himself to hate her enough to want to hurt her more.

It was a lie to say he hated her because if he truly did, then why couldn't he bear the idea of hurting her?

"Joy?" Lucas called out to her, once he reached her. Joy flinched in her place, letting out a small gasp. Lucas watched as her hands clenched tightly into a fist before easing and eventually unraveling, the pads of her fingers now drumming lightly against her jeans. Lucas sat down beside Joy. 

"Look-," Lucas muttered, but before he could finish, his features scrunched together when Joy looked at him.

"I am sorry you had to hear that... and deal with me after." Joy sighed.

"I- uh. Are you, um- okay?"

"Am I okay?" Joy's eyebrows lifted upwards and for a second Lucas could see a ghost of a smile flicker over her lips. "That's a really, really good question."