Chasing Summer

Trapped in Our Hourglass

That day in Quinta City, standing on the pier of some overcrowded beach, would soon become our silver lining, a perfect day to look back on. In my present, Eren and I were beginning to fight the unavoidable darkness that came along with his lung disease.

Eren had been in and out of the hospital for the past week, bringing home new medical equipment with each trip. Among these was a BiPAP Auto machine that helped him breath regularly throughout the night. It wasn't a big machine. It was easily stored on top of his bedside table, ready for use whenever he needed it next. He claimed it wasn't a big deal, just something that would put his dad at ease, but I knew the truth: He needed it. It wasn't an option.

On this Sunday afternoon, I sat on the floor next to his bed, a mess of origami paper in front of me. I was attempting to lose myself in the complex world of arts and crafts, which wasn't my forte whatsoever. It had taken me a while to get the hang of folding paper cranes. The ones that I'd managed to fold somewhat decently now hung from the ceiling of his bedroom. Eren had been proud of my progress, so he pinned them up with a smile that made me want to master the technique.

As I worked, rain drummed on the rooftop, loud enough to drown out the soft hissing sound of the BiPAP machine whenever Eren took a breath. He'd been napping for the past hour; drowsy from the medication he had taken earlier. He always felt bad for sleeping when I was here, wide awake, but I kept assuring him that I was fine just being here with him. The truth was this: I was afraid whenever I wasn't with him, always worrying and wondering if he was okay. I felt like the thread I'd held on to so tightly was finally slipping through my fingers, becoming too fine to hold.

Time ticked by, soundless, but undoubtedly there—an invisible enemy that neither of us could fight. I tried not to think about it as I put the finishing touches to the crane I'd been folding for the past fifteen minutes. Using the tip of my forefinger, I carefully bent the top half, creating the curve of its beak. When I was through with that, I placed the crane on the center of my palm. All I had to do was close my hand and I would crush its paper wings.

When would the hand of time crush Eren's wings?

"That looks nice," Eren said sleepily.

I turned my head to look at him. He was lying on his side, face hidden behind the mask strapped to his head. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not that long. Now you should come over here. You look warm."

I stood up and set the paper crane down beside his BiPAP machine on the bedside table. It looked trapped and lonely there, eager to fly on wings forever outstretched toward the sky. "It's a little after one," I said, still staring at the crane. "Want to try to eat something?"

"Maybe later. Come here already." He tugged me down next to him, impatient. "Why are you wearing your shoes?"

"Some people do that. You didn't know?" I slipped off my shoes before I climbed into bed next to him. His hands were immediately under my shirt, mapping out the skin of my abdomen. "You touch me like you've never touched me before."

"I could touch you a million times and still ache to touch you once more," he said, undoing the bottom strap of his mask. Soon, his mouth was free and he kissed the underside of my chin. "Make love to me on this rainy day."

"Your dad will be home from work soon. It's a miracle that he's even allowing me to be here after we were gone for two days without calling him. I don't want to push my luck."

Eren pulled me on top of him. He kissed me until we were both breathless. "That's old news," he told me, tugging my shirt up and over my head. "That happened two weeks ago. Will you cooperate already?"