I recommend that you listen to Avril Lavigne’s When You’re Gone while reading this story.
Enjoy!
“Sometimes, we cannot let go of hurt ... because it is a constant reminder of one great love story we never expected to come to an end. “
12
My heart is doing an amazing imitation of a fish out of water inside my chest, flipping and twisting like suddenly, I am being pulled out from somewhere I belong. It is a weird feeling that I blame on my nervousness to see Warren.
Awake.
Finally.
I scuffle uneasily. What’s wrong with me? Act natural, girl! I reprimand myself. He’s still your best friend!
My mind whirls as one word stays stuck in my head. Still? Where did that come from? Of course, he’s my best friend. Warren has always been my best friend!
“C?” A familiar voice roughly whispers, and shivers run all over my taut body.
I haven’t realized that I’m already standing a foot away from his bed. I raise my gaze from my fiddling hands, hide them behind me, and pluck whatever little courage I have within me to meet his beautiful dark eyes.
Did I ever mention how breathtaking they were?
“Hi,” I say shyly, and I can feel a weird tingly feeling at the pit of my stomach.
Warren does not smile. . . and I try harder to make my own blossom into a genuine one, despite the fact that all I want to do right now is beg for his forgiveness.
The accident has left his face disfigured. One side of it has second degree burns, pinky and shiny and patched. His once perfect nose is crooked and swollen, despite it being already close to a month since the car crash. There are two uneven gashes that run from his lower lip down to his jaw, and another down his neck, continuing under the collar of his hospital gown.
“You okay?” I ask quietly. I am not used to this kind of solemn Warren.
He does not respond.
“Do you want, uhm, some apples?” I say awkwardly.
When he only continues to stare at me, I make my move to peel him some. I grab the knife.
"How many can you eat?" I glance at him. He shuffles slightly, and boy, I’m glad for the sound of the sheets. This tension is not gonna do either of us a favor.
His reply is a curt, “I’m good.”
I stiffen.
“Oh.”
I drop the knife and the apple back into the basket.
“How about water?” I query with another smile when a minute passes and he doesn’t utter a word again. “I can either get you ice cold or tap water.”
He closes his eyes, and I see his other hand balled into a white-knuckled fist. I sway unsteadily on my feet. I wish Johannes is here too to hold my hand, but I know Warren will not appreciate a stranger seeing him in this vulnerable state. I know his pride, have known it all my life.
“C?”
“Yep?” I pop the ‘p’, just to diffuse the heaviness in the atmosphere. My heart jumps when I feel Warren’s fingers curl around my wrist.
YOU ARE READING
Best Friends
Short Story"Once you loved someone, you can never stop loving that person. Maybe more or maybe less, but it never stops." This is more than just a story. This is their reality. About a girl waiting in the sidelines, a boy who made his choices and their beautif...
