I Told the Stars about You

Chapter 13 - I'm begging you. To Stay.

If Rose were a song, I'd have a playlist solely for her.
The song would start soft, with her humming incoherent words, like the start in one's line of thought. No backing track. Then a few low notes on the piano would repeat, the keys seamlessly giving ways to chords, the right hand of the pianist sliding to the opposite end, contrasting the sounds played by the left hand. To play it, one would have to step on the middle peddal of the piano, muffling the harsh notes into those you'd hear in a living room on a Christmas Day when opening presents. Warm. Simple. Ethereal.
Then she'd sing. And it would be her voice the same as it is when she speaks, you'd recognize it's her because it's the breathless, lost sense you get when you're flying in a plane at thousands of meters above the Earth. It's that sunset through a hotel room when you're feeling alone. That rounded, contained voice with just enough projection to sound in perfect equilibrium.
The song would grow into a crescendo, the piano loud now, the vocals firm as she sings a high note as if it were nothing more than a yawn she lets out on a lazy Sunday afternoon. And it would grow, grow, until the guitar would stop and you wouldn't have noticed it till now, but because it's gone you would, and she'd sing a quiet bridge. And yes, it would be wrong in the traditional way of music because the bridge is supposed to carry the crescendo; but she's fast, and she's lived that already, and now she's honest. Raw. Broken. And you see the truth in her. The crack in her voice, the sharp release of breath from containing a sob, but the notes would stay unwavering, captivating. It would be like listening to a secret, And some would hate it. Some would say it ruins the song. But in the last chorus the story comes together, the instruments finally unite, and that sense of lack, uncompletion, it would be there. And you would have judged too early, critiquing her knowledge of music. And Rose would have known all along but she wouldn't have said anything, because she'd wait to see if you stuck around through it all. 

She's my favourite song, and the song doesn't even exist.

***

It's still raining when I wake up.

"Rose" I breathe "Are you-" Shielding my head from the bright lights I search the person's face. Blonde. Thin. It's the nurse that was there when I fainted in the classroom. I already want to get out of here.

"You've been in a coma, Asher"

"What?"

"You've been out for 16 days. Showing small signs of being responsive and leaving your vegetative state these past two days, so we expected your recovery this week" She takes my hand "We're happy to have you back".

I blink server al times and try to sit up to no avail. The nurse, Alessandra according to her name tag, nods, as if she understands my situation completely. She doesn't.

"Is Rose here?" I ask.

"You haven't had any visitor by that name" Looking down, I avoid Alessandra seeing my disappointed expression "I'm afraid in these cases we are only legally bound to contact your guardians or family, so if she's a friend, she may not know of your condition".

I finally drag my gaze back to her after a minute of heavy silence. 

"I need to call Cassie, she's my-" I choke on my words. My throat closes up like there's a phantom hand gripping my throat. The nest breath hurts more than I can describe. A sob escapes my patched lips, filling the room, triggering an ocean of emotions. But it's simple the way I see it. I am bathed in this piercing cold water, needles piercing my tan skin breaking me down. I want to hear Rod Stewart when I wake up. I want to go on walks to cliffsides. I want to try to paint and fail miserably. And I can't, I can't, I can't-

I think the scream I let out is heard through the entirety of the hospital. I'm sobbing, screaming,

"She's gone, She's gone, She's gone" I'm breathing too fast and the doctor is saying something about me needing to breathe and I can't think about breathing because I can't think of anything at all aside from the fact that it feels like yesterday Cassie was here and, Oh God, she was here. She was here after they found her washed up on the rocks-