Make a Wish|| G. Gustin

11.

People say that life is like a rollercoaster; there are ups and downs. Boy is that an understatement. Life isn't like riding a roller coaster, it's like skydiving with a faulty parachute. You're falling and falling until you are slowed by the large piece of cloth attached to your back and you can enjoy the view. That is until your parachute decides not to work and you fall to your death.

My point is, the point in life I am at right now is the falling to your death part. But along the way my parachute has decided to fluctuate in a chronicle of events. Between episodes of puking or agitated sleep, intervals in which I have been relatively vigorous have occurred. I wish that I could say I incessantly felt robust when Grant was around, but the ugly truth is that I have the occasional melt down in front of him. He responds rather well when it happens, holding me and whispering condolences in my ear until I relax.

I thought I had come to terms with death, in fact once apon a time I invited him to hold me in his cold and callous embrace. Though that was when I hadn't a reason to live anymore. Now don't hate me for saying that; life is precious I know. But put yourself in my shoes for a moment- no friends to visit; no family to idolize in times of despair; no single person to tell me they loved me. I was alone.

Now I'm not. I have a love and it may sound foolish or naive to think that a boyfriend is a reason to live through all of the pain that comes with recovery, but it's something. It is something that I can hold on too, that will anchor me in the times where there is only melancholy. In a time where my abhorrence for life obscures my thoughts, I now have someone to lead me through the fog. A light in the black heart of this iniquitous universe. 

But as lilacs can grow in deserts, good times arouse in bad. One of those  efficacious times is now. To frail to walk, Grant pushes the wheelchair that supports me through Vancouver General's Garden. Effulgent splotches of color attached to green stems encompass me and make the world seem brighter. Despite the light snowfall I feel relatively warm bundled up.

We approach a bench surrounded by greens. Grant sits and faces me.

"Merry Christmas," he says with a warm smile. He pulls a box wrapped in silver paper out his coat pocket. He hands the gift to me and I take it in my scrawny hands. I open the box to find a burnished necklace of silver. A single ring clings onto the chain; it is engraved with a message. I assume the note says something cheesy or cliche like 'I love you' or something but when I examine the silver loop closer I can make out the heart melting words.

Stronger each day.

"Stronger each day," I read outloud. "You really think I'm strong?"

My voice is weak making me feel in contradiction to the message in my hand. Grant's soft hand cradles my cheek in a comforting manner. His breath, which looks like steam in the cold, tickles my nose. His sea colored eyes bore into mine seriously yet compassionate.

"Mare, you're the strongest person I know." A barely visible smile forms on my face. He continues, "And you know what they say about strength. Strength is beauty; you're that too."

His words envelope me in comfort and confidence. A single tear slips down my cheek, it's trail freezing on my rosy skin.

"Why thank you, Grant Gustin," I say to him in my usual chipperly sarcastic tone. "You're not so bad yourself."

"Not bad? That's all I get," he jokes as he leans his lips closer to my face. "You know," he says kissing my cheek. "Most people would say that I was incredibly hot."

I throw my head back laughing. "You want me to tell you you're incredibly hot?"

"I mean it would make me feel better about myself," he fake pouts. I laugh harder now.

"You are such a girl, Cupcake. But whatever makes you happy. You are so hot and everytime I see you I just want to make out with your face," I say in a sarcastic tone even though my statement was true.

He laughs and plants light kisses on my cheeks and forehead. "Oh Marebear Adams," he says standing up and wheeling me back towards the hospital. "If my love for you was tangible you would be suffocating in it right now."

"Call me Marebear again and I will slap you," I threaten. Grant rolls his eyes.

"I was trying to be poetic and you ruined it," he mopes.

"Yeah ruining the moment is kind of my super power."

-*_

My hand cramps up from all of the writing I just did.

With love,
Marybeth

I wipe the river of tears that drown my face away with the back of my hand. Sealing the envelope I press my nurse's call button. Within seconds Barbie comes into my room, a sad look on her face. 

"What do you need hun," she asks sweetly.

"I need a favor..."

***

A/N: This will all make sense eventually:) 

Also! Do you LOVE the Flash??? Yeah you do! You should definitely go read my fanfic series Suddenly Super! Love you so much!