dear ethan | ✓

love, chloe

a/n - this is it. the last part to dear ethan.

writing this book has been incredible, and i am so proud of how well - in my standards - it's done. thank you all so, so much for the support, and i know i've said this a lot over the course of writing this, but i truly do mean it, and appreciate each and every one of you who's read it.i'm so grateful to dear ethan for helping me, not only in trying to make my writing less shitty, but for also allowing me to meet amazing new people (yes sandra im looking at you, you adorable idiot)

so, thank you all, for sticking with me. and here it is, the last chapter of dear ethan...

love,
elsie x

❁ ❁ ❁

present day // chloe's pov

Listening to the somewhat calming beep of the machines keeping Ethan alive, I finished up writing my most recent letter to him, signing off at the end, writing his name on the sealed envelope and putting it on top of the pile that was slowly forming in my bag, sat next to his hospital bed.

Ethan's regular nurse, Maria, came in to tell me that visiting hours had ended an hour ago, and I knew she'd purposely forgotten to mention it sooner; we'd become very well acquainted over all the times I'd spent sat in the uncomfy hospital chair with my best friend, and I don't know whether it was because she pitied me or just liked me, but recently she'd started occasionally slipping me a spare jello cup, or let me stay later than I was supposed to, and honestly I'd much rather have her around than the cranky old woman who worked Sundays and gave me death glares when I breathed too loud.

I thanked her as she sent me a knowing smile, and grabbed my coat from the back of the chair, bidding farewell to Ethan, "See you tomorrow?"

I knew he couldn't hear me.

I knew it was pointless.

But I did it every day anyway.

As I exited the huge hospital through the main entrance, passing rooms of dying patients, old people with catheters poking out, parents watching their children slowly fade away, cancer sufferers sleeping after hours of chemo, I thought about Ethan dying.

Morbid, I know, but honestly it was the only thing on my mind these days.

How would I find out about it? Would they phone me? Would I be there when they turned off the machine? Would I have to eulogize him at his funeral?

I decided to push the thoughts away just for the night, and climbed into my car which had been repaired since the crash, switching on the ignition and pulling out, not even realizing I was crying until I felt a single tear slip down my face.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

I turned up the radio, refusing to listen to the voices in my head and instead drowning them out with loud music, just as I realised that I'd stupidly left my bag, wide open, in Ethan's room.

With all the letters in.

Deciding to just pick up the bag tomorrow morning, as it was pretty late already, I pulled into my house, going straight to my room and flopping face first on the bed.