What If He Didn't Die?

Chapter 23: The Fourth Message

Hey Easter EggsYou're still not here with me You know I'll wait, right? You know I believe in you I know you're not like your friends You're different But, right now You're just confused Choose meNot them Correct this before its too late Like you always did I'm still waiting for you I'll always wait for you...

The silence of my room once again takes over as his last word fades away, but just like every time and just like I love it, his deep voice keeps dangling in my ears. The volume increasing constantly.

One thing that I now am completely sure about is that he is safe and he's been ceaselessly waiting till this day and he's still waiting.

For me.

′You know I'll wait right?′

I chuckle as the sentence reappears in my head. Of course, I know he'll wait. He'll wait today, and the day after that and the day after that, until the day arrives when I'll reach him or he'll reach me.

I out of all people in the world cannot doubt it. And that's precisely why I'm trying my best to make that day come sooner. Even though I'm unintentionally hurting the handful of people who care for me anymore.

But if they actually care for me, they'll forgive me when the time comes. Right?

His words repeat persistently in my head as I quickly pen them down in my diary. The paper smiles when it finally unites with his words as they dig deep alphabetical impressions into its pale surface.

Deep.

The word hits me somewhere and I realize, never has his message ever been a shallow piece of communication. They're always deeper than they seem. Every word he sends my way, every little phrase, all of it.

They're rich with emotions and carry the independence of interpreting them in diverse ways. Each and every one of which, only having to do everything with the life we'd lived, the love we'd shared. Their bottomless depths always lure me to dive into its dangerous waves and explore and as helplessly devoted as I am, I always find myself sinking into the inviting layers of memories.

He expects me to correct this before it's too late like I always did. I can't help but snort at the confidence in his voice that never stopped playing in my head.

Only if he could see me right now.

My current hopeless state makes anyone who sets their eyes on me, pray for my well-being. People look at me and recommend joining a rehab and this guy right here, expects me to ′correct things'.

I laugh inwardly, once again.

But again, isn't he right? Did I not always correct things? I did. I always did. Sooner or later. Even when it's too difficult for my own faith. Even when it's too impossible for me to even try.

Because I know I have to.

Just like I had to.

Because leaving things wrong isn't an option for me.

It wasn't then. It isn't now.

Then.

It may look like a mere pronoun to anyone but only the user of it knows what sweet memories and what horrible secrets it holds, and my soul entirely knows what it means for me now.