I Told the Stars about You

Chapter 26: Color

A/N: Hi! I'm just editing this chapter, so the 'edit' notification that may pop up isn't a change to the plot or additional information in the chapter, it's just some silly spelling mistakes. Thank you :)

Rose POV

The first person I think of is Ash.
His green eyes staring into mine. His chest beneath my head as we lie in my bedroom, covered in sweat and heat. His heartbeat pumping loudly from exhaustion. His arm wrapped around me, holding me close, keeping me safe. Skin to skin.
I love you, I hear him say. I think people need people overall. But I also think people have their person. Like," he explains, "someone they understand in the way the ocean meets the sky." A pause. Then, "I think you're my person, Rose.

I breathe. Deep. Slow.
The memory's grasp releases, and as much as I try to catch it, in forced to keep him here, it's like trying to hold water in my hands.
My eyes blink open and everything is blurry. I seem to sit upright in a fright when I realise I'm not at home. I feel like I've just come back from the dead and my mind is screaming to sleep, sleep, sleep. My throat hurts in that way in which you feel like your whole windpipe is swollen, dry, and you need water- but no matter how much you have, the dryness remains. Slowly, I reach my hand up and touch along my throat. Almost immediately, I let go. Stitches.

The air tastes clinical, clean.

Immediately, all the pieces come together.

I know what happened. I can almost hear my parents voices in my head, saying, "Reduced air flow consequence of a collapsed windpipe or broken carticage rings".
I'm lucky to be alive right now, after the stunt Jason pulled.

I realise I haven't thought that in years. That's I'm lucky to be alive. I laugh to myself, my body shaking slightly and a smile pulling at my cheeks, but the sound that comes out is all wrong.
The way I think of it is, at least there is a sound coming out. I could hav every easily lost my ability to speak. I shake my head to remove the thought, and immediately regret it at the sharp pain that pierces through my skull, conguring a heavy migraine.

Leaning down, I put my face in my hands and squeeze my temples in a gesture that reminds me heavily of my mother. I let seconds tick by, and count at least thirty from the clock somewhere in this room before I assess my surroundings.

I'm in a white hospital room, with an IV stuck to my wrist, a thing on my finger measuring what must be my heart rate and I'm wearing a hospital gown that looks like something that belongs to my grandmother's time. My skin looks transparent, bruised.

God, I hope I don't have visitors.

Then, as if I jinxed it, Mum and Dad walk in through the white door, followed closely behind by a doctor.

"You're here?" The words barely make it out, a croaky pitchy sound coming out instead. But Mum and Dad don't even process it for a second, before they hurry towards me and cradle me in their arms.
I think they've forgotten how I made them promise not to hug me three years ago. I'd forgotten their embrace. The smell of my Mum's perfume and my Dad's warm dusty spice. I'd forgotten this warmth that simply belongs to Mum and Dad. I'd forgotten this squeezing of my heart. And although I'm sitting on the most uncomfortable bed I've been on, wearing the ugliest hospital gown I've ever seen, I smile at the safety I feel with them. And I feel gratitude filling up my veins, overpowering all the pain in my throat, my head, my arms. I feel all the love I have for them swirling through my blood and making me glow. For a moment, I lean my head against Mum's shoulder.

And when they pull away, I tilt my head forward slightly and mouth Thank you.

They seemed shocked for a spit second, noticing the smile they haven't seen on my face for years, noticing the hand I'm wrapping around their joined ones, but they recover quickly. And their smiles light up the whole room.