cube smp one-shots

nine // pbomb

R e m e m b e r

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I remember the date clearly : January 20th. The roads were all snowy and icy with little flecks of snow hitting us people. I walked down the crosswalk, my hand clutching tightly onto my lover's. I remembered how his hand felt so warm and comforting, even in the falling snow.

After that, I couldn't remember.

My lover told me that a car rammed into my side and sent both of us flying towards the center of the intersection. He told me that a pool of blood started surrounding us and my limbs were so bent that it seemed unfixable.

He told me that I almost died, being stuck in a coma for so many days; 36 days, he counted. By then, his back was on its way to being healed and he could sit up with the help of a brace. I remembered crying when I saw him sitting in a wheelchair supported with a large brace.

The doctors told me that I only had a 30% chance of being able to use my limbs again; my lover took me into his arms and he hugged me so tightly. I started crying and shaking, having a hard time hearing the soft whispers of comfort from him.

After that, my parents moved me into the same ward as him. It was the same as the one I was in; white, too sanitary, and with the scent of cleaning supplies always in the air. It was much different now, though, with him right next to me.

We started a schedule together on our road to recovery. Every morning at 10, we would get waken up and we would eat together in the same bed. The rest of the day until dinner or lunch, we would watch tv; our favorites were old reruns of game show games. We pretended we knew all the answers.

We didn't actually know, though, hence the pretending part of it all. In fact, we knew nothing at all, especially when we finally found out what was to happen to my lover. I still remember sitting there, still as a statue with shock and sadness in my wide eyes.

I should have known that a happy road to our life wouldn't exist, but I didn't. The chances were never in our favor and it never would be. That was the first thought my lover and I shared when we found out he would die soon.

We found out that his spine was degrading ever since the rough collision he had on the the road. His spine wouldn't hold up for long and when we found out, it was closer to failing than being saved.

He held me tightly that night, petting my hair as I sobbed like a little kid in his chest. I kept muttering wishes that would never work, wishes of bargaining to save his life instead of losing it. Nothing ever worked.

I remember the day he died : March 3rd. It was roughly two months before our 3 year anniversary.

The sky was starting to bluer and bluer, much like the world around me. I remembered screaming at the funeral, when they lowered the casket down and laid the dirt on top of it. They pulled me away as I tried to hug tightly onto the tombstone of my lover.

With so many years of crying, sadness, and hatred, I found myself getting older and more insane over my lover. All the memories, the moments, and almost everything I remembered. The only thing I couldn't, the one memory that I've lost through my years. . .

I could never really remember my lover's name anymore.