𝐖𝐇𝐘? ━━ 𝗩𝗜𝗥𝗔𝗟 𝗛𝗜𝗧 | ✓

08

❝ BLUE EYES, BLACK JEANS, LIGHTERS AND CANDY, I'VE BEEN A FOOL ! ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡︎♡︎♡︎

GREEN. THAT WAS the colour that I associate with you, not that it has any actual meaning behind it, it's just that most of the things you own are of the colour green.

Your hair was light green, your favourite flavour to most drinks and snacks— wasabi and matcha— is green, your nail polish was green, the jacket you always used to wear was green, and even your car was green. I wouldn't be surprised if you told me that it was your favourite colour.

And that's why I've bought a lot of green coloured things for you, placing it on your bedside table for whenever you wake up and I'm not there. It's likely now that you'd wake up from your coma and you wouldn't see me by your side— not because I'm avoiding you, that's the last thing I would do— but school is starting again, I'll be in my second year of middle school.

On this day, I won you a green little frog toy from the claw machine in an arcade place near your school. A bunch of your classmates and some other schoolmates recognized me and asked me about your condition, I answered all of them to the best of my ability but I couldn't help but get emotional at some point— this was about you, why wouldn't I?

The green hairpin I placed on the table yesterday was already gone, I guessed that one of the nurses had taken it and placed it in the 'box of memories', along with all the other gifts I gave you while you were still in your. . . slumber.

"I love you." I whispered to you before placing a soft kiss on your head, it became my habit to do this everytime I visit you. You still lay there, unmoving as ever, but at least the doctor had told me that most of the injuries you received a few months ago are now nearly healed.

This day was Saturday, which means I get to stay here for a day and a half. I've been planning some things on my birthday, which is very near— only a month left and I'll be 15— then I'll be attending high school in two years.

My father had started to become more strict towards my studies and whatnot, he wanted me to start lessening my visits to you but I've always reasoned that I want to be the one you wake up to— or at least be one of the first people you see except the doctors and nurses.

Until now, I still wonder why my father clams up when I mention your last name. Why did he act as if there was something to it by just hearing it?

I know you have such a rollercoaster of a reputation, but the fact that my father, out of all people, was also apart of the crowd that was swallowed in by the black hole that you are is such a bizarre concept to me.

But then again, a black hole does not choose what it sucks in, it even swallows the brightest light there is in the world, my father can never be an exemption.

For a while, I've been thinking of what could possibly happen if you do wake up from your coma. A million questions, doubts, and what ifs would always run through my mind, and it all involved you.

Would you immediately remember the day you got into that accident? Would you be happy to see me the moment you wake up? Will you be happy to be awake again and see the world again? Did you hear all of things I whispered to you while you slept?

But the thing is— I don't know when all of this can be answered. I was sure you'd wake up, that we'd be happy again, and that everything would go back to how it used to be— but when is that?

When will you wake up from this stupid coma? When am I going to see your beautiful eyes again? When will I be able to feel the warmth in your hands again? When will I hear your voice?

I didn't want to admit it, not even after many years, but I was slowly forgetting things about you. The pictures of us in your phone brings too much nostalgia yet feels so unfamiliar.

I hate this, I hated this, and I will always hate this. I despise slowly forgetting about you, not remembering the little things about you that I promised myself to never forget any of it because of how much I love you.

I love you— more than anything— and forgetting you is my second greatest fear, for the first one is losing you.