BALANCED LUCK

five

☘︎ clover ☘︎

DECEMBER

It had been five months since I had awakened from my coma, and every day brought new and strange challenges. My body was still weak, my muscles weak and uncoordinated, my stamina low. I had to take frequent naps and breaks, my brain and body exhausted from the simplest activities. But I was determined to get better, to fully recover and readjust to life outside of the hospital.

Thanks to Beckett's encouragement, I had progressed in my guitar playing, able to play simple songs and strum chords with relative ease. My passion for music was slowly returning, and it made me feel a sense of purpose and determination that I hadn't felt in a long time.

Despite my progress, I still struggled with my memory. There were still gaps in my mind where entire events should have taken place, people I should have known but didn't. It was frustrating, and it made me feel like a part of me was still missing.

But despite the difficulties, I was determined to keep moving forward. Beckett's constant presence was a source of comfort and strength, his guitar lessons a welcome distraction from the constant uphill battle I was facing.

I couldn't help but feel grateful for Beckett's support and guidance, but I also couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that seemed to follow me everywhere. I was constantly reminded of the stranger, the boy from my memories, whose name I couldn't recall, yet whose presence in my life had been so significant.

I would spend hours trying to remember even the smallest details about him, trying to bring the memories back to the forefront of my mind. But no matter how hard I tried, his name eluded me.

I could remember sharing sweet, intimate moments with the stranger - the feeling of his hand in mine, the sound of his laugh, the way he would look at me with tenderness in his eyes. They were memories that filled me with warmth and comfort, but also longing and confusion.

The thought of how our relationship ended and where he now was filled me with a sense of confusion and uncertainty. I wondered if he was okay, if he was still searching for me like I was searching for him. A pang of sadness coursed through me as I thought of the possibility that we might never meet again.

2 1/2 years ago

The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the sand and waves. We were sitting close together, our legs stretched out in front of us, toes buried in the warm sand. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was a soothing background noise, the air cool and salty.

The boy was sitting next to me, his arm casually thrown across my shoulders. I could feel his warmth radiating from his side, his familiar scent wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. We were talking, our voices low and quiet, our words mingling with the sounds of the ocean.

There was something familiar about this moment, as if we had done this many times before. The way he touched me, the way I leaned into him, it all felt so natural and right. As we sat there, watching the sun sink below the horizon, I felt a sense of contentment and peace wash over me.

I turned to look at him, a small smile on my lips, and I found that he was already looking at me. Our eyes met, and for a moment, everything else faded away. In that moment, it was just the two of us, sitting on the beach, the world around us forgotten.

I couldn't help but smile back at him, feeling a little flustered under his intense gaze. "What?" I asked, my voice soft and amused.

He chuckled, the corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile. "You're so fucking beautiful, Clove." he said, his gaze never leaving my face.