The Darkness Of Healing // Ruel // English

Chapter 6

My legs can't take it anymore. It seems like the tension on my muscles is building more and more with every step I take. You would think that the moment my foot hits the ground, the tension also slips away. So into the ground beneath me, like lightning that strikes. Making the floor vibrate beneath my feet. But that is not the case. It's worse, intolerant. The pressure in my chest is unwanted. Even a little unexpected. It's like my chest is being squeezed. Being squeezed by strong hands. Those hands where the veins are clearly visible, a hand covered with silver rings. Somewhere attractive, but that is certainly not the feeling. It is painful. It stings. Stabs me. Is going to knock me out. Although it wouldn't turn out too bad, soon I'll be surrounded by doctors.

It doesn't seem to be very busy during visiting hours for other patients. I might be called a fool if they find out I've made a deal with myself: I'll try to visit Ruel every day. I'm not quite behind the purpose of this. Maybe to help him. To be a familiar voice to him if I can believe my gut that he hears me. Maybe just to drag him through. I may feel alone, but he is actually alone. About 3 hours a day there is a chance that someone will come by, but asking about the people he needs at the moment is impossible. So no matter how painful it is for me, as much as it makes me panic right now, I'm here for him. And I will promise that.

When will I get used to the image? When am I not going to want to turn around when I see him this way? I try really hard to turn myself around, make sure I don't walk out of the hospital again.

He is still the same as yesterday, is not very strange. It's like I'm just living the same day again, only now without support. I'm on my own now. No one waiting for me outside the room. Will catch me when it gets too much for me.

I plant a kiss on his forehead and run my hand through his hair. Silky soft, in the light from outside some strands seem to turn golden. I never noticed that. I know the color change of his hair through the seasons. It is darker in winter and light in summer. Although there are more and more dark pieces in his hair the older he gets. When he was very little his hair was a very even light blond, almost white with a yellow glow, later it got darker and darker. Soon he will have completely brown hair. It would also look good on him. He can have a lot.

I take his hand in mine, holding it tight as I bring it to my face. I run his limp hand gently over my face. Let him recognize it's me. All the curves, the structure, the irregularities. I kiss his palm and wrap his fingers around it. Very careful and gentle kind.

Yasmine: "I miss you."

I almost laugh at my own statement. It's been maybe 24 hours that I haven't seen him alive. It's like he's been asleep all this time and I want to wake him up. Laughing with him at the fact that he slept so long, he must have needed it. But I miss his energy around me. I miss the idea of ​​him. He seems unconsciously so far away from me. Although I think about him almost all the time. It just feels different. You get different powers from it, different support than usual. It now seems as if time seems to tick differently. I'm waiting for another hour to pass. Waiting for him to get a little better. Still I won't know. I will continue to wait for the moment for his eyes to open. To see his eyes shine again. See his pupils grow when he looks at me. His eyes narrow as he smiles, his smile hugging your heart like a safe home. His home. He has kissed my soul in a way that no one else could. No pair of lips has ever been close to his. Never has anyone had such a positive effect on me. Sometimes it seemed as if our souls were melting together. And I don't mean the moments when our bodies did. Not the moments of vulnerability between the sheets. But I mean the little moments like dancing in the kitchen, waiting for the cookies, in the middle of the night. The time when the whole world seems to stand still. Everything and everyone is asleep, even the sun. It's moments like these that make you enjoy life. It's those moments that show you the beauty of the world. If you ever doubt that and you have moments like that at your fingertips, run them. Ride a bike under the stars at night, dance in the rain, alone or with a partner. Pick flowers along the way and make them into a bouquet for a loved one, perhaps the old lady who sits on the park bench at the exact same time every day. Give her a smile on her face. Drive around in the car and leave all your worries behind, see where you end up. You'll make it. Find the beauty. Find a reason to live, grab those moments and cherish them. Let them bring you back to life, because everyone deserves it. Everyone deserves to feel the adrenaline along with the serotonin coursing through the veins that arouse and make you feel something again. The feeling doesn't have to be permanent, but you should be able to hold it in your heart. Being able to think about it.

Yasmine: "Ruel I'm not sure what to do. Just something to help you. To help myself." It's like I'm hopelessly talking to a wall that will never answer anyway. And it may not be a wall now, but it feels the same. I can't expect an answer. I can ask as many questions as I want but I will never get an answer.

Yasmine: "I couldn't. I couldn't put you in Nate's hands. And maybe he doesn't like me anymore. I don't know if you still like me. But it felt safer if you were under my supervision. They'll call me if there's anything, if they find out anything. I'd love to have your permission, but-"

And I've lost my speech again. I fight against the tears that come up. Squeeze my eyes shut and rest my head in the inside of my arm. With each breath I make sure it goes to my stomach, so that it doesn't run wild later. This time it seems to help.

I lay my head on the bed. Run my thumb over his hand as I look outside. From this height you can't see much more than the top of the trees, a few birds and clouds that pass very slowly, but that doesn't matter much either. I don't need to talk a lot, do I? I can also just sit in the room with him. Let him know I'm there. Maybe physically, but mentally I'm somewhere else entirely. I fly among the birds. Sometimes I wish I was a bird. To be able to observe the world. To spread my wings and feel free. To feel the wind through my wings. Take a dip down and fly back up. Dancing recklessly through the air. Sometimes I don't have to be a bird to feel reckless. In fact, I sometimes feel like I handle my life exactly the same way. That I don't think about the dangers it could pose. Like I'm reckless letting all the pieces fly around. Drop everywhere and see it break, and that was my danger. It's thoughtless, but maybe that's what makes you feel free. Not chained to the ground. Not chained to all the things that society wants and expects of you. It often feels like a captivity. It gives so many limitations and I want to break that. I've been incarcerated long enough. Locked myself up for everything and everyone. I want to be able to feel it, the recklessness.

I've been sitting here for almost an hour now, almost all the time I've been allowed to be here. Half an hour and then I should be out of here. I don't know if they check it that closely. It's not like I'm bothering anyone. I'm quiet, barely say anything. I'm just drowning in my own thoughts. Along with the tears it overflows inside. Finding a way out in the corners of my eyes and rolling silently down my cheeks. So constant that I often don't even seem to notice. I prefer to sleep here next to him. Still holding his hand. Hoping everything will be okay then. That I can close my eyes and not wake up with big eyes that make it seem like I didn't sleep a wink all night. Hoping that I'll be protected here from the nightmares that haunt me. Because no one is there to protect me from them, no one will fight them. And my past will not forget me. How I wish I could forget my past. I am always chased.

Very softly I hear two familiar voices in the hallway. I know I have to go.

Yasmine: "I love you. I will always believe in you Ruel."

Carefully my finger runs over his temples. My lips stay on his skin longer than if I normally would give a kiss. It's a mixture of longing for him and reassurance. Maybe also the hope that it might be okay.

The door opens and I turn around. Smooth my hand from his shoulder, over his arm, to his hand until I walk away from the bed.

The stern look in Nate's eyes softens as I look at him. I don't know if that's because I look so exhausted at the moment, although my body is getting sharp again, or if something in his head has switched.

Nate: "Sorry." He apologizes with one simple word, but that's all he needs. It's forgiven.

Michelle pauses in front of me and wipes my cheeks dry with her thumbs. It's kind of a motherly gesture. I know she always felt this way about Ruel, like a second mother. Especially when they go on tour. The whole team feels like a family that supports each other and takes care of each other when needed. That is the beauty of having a close relationship with each other. I wish it would have gone exactly like this on the tour that's planned. Those could have been beautiful moments. And if everything goes well, it certainly will be. But it takes time and a lot of patience. Patience and trust.