Make a Wish|| G. Gustin

15.

Sitting in a chair across from my Marebear, I wondered if she would ever wake up. She made it through surgery so that's good, I guess, but she looks terrible. I know you're not supposed to say that kind of thing about your girlfriend but I can't help it. She has a large scar running across the side of her head, but that's not the worst of her physique. Her face is puffy and she has dark circles under her closed eyes.

Barbie told me that although Mare is breathing on her own, she is in critical condition. I want to scream and throw my fists at the walls that seem to be closing in on me. I want to make everything better. Most of all I want to know what Mare's letter said.

I remember reading somewhere that people can hear you when they're unconscious. Even if it's not true, I still talk to her anyways.

"Hey Marebear," I say taking her hand in mine. "I wonder what your thinking, if you are thinking anything that is; Barbie told me that you have "minimal brain activity.""

I look over at one of the monitors attached to her head. The lines are straight. "So I've been thinking about all of the things we are going to miss if you don't open your eyes. Actually I have been thinking about a lot. But I feel like I shouldn't be thinking those thoughts; instead I should be thinking of all the things that we have done that not many people get to do. I mean we have had more dates in a hospital than not. We've sung a duet, been on a tv show; we've gone through sickness and health. We haven't been together long but I already know that I want to be with you for the rest of my life."

I move her cold hand to my cheek. "The thing is sweetheart, your okay now. No more cancer. All you have to do is open your eyes. Just let me see those beautiful eyes again, please."

Nothing. No movement. 

I try once more to make her wake up. "Remember the time when we got married? Oh wait... you don't, cause it never happened. It will never happen if you don't open up your damn eyes!"

Rage overflows me. This isn't fair. Not in the least. I take a few deep breaths and calm myself down. My rage turns to depression and I start balling uncontrollably. "Mare, please, I want to see your eyes; I want to hear your sweet voice; I want you to kiss me and wrap me in your arms and tell me that you're okay because, Marybeth Adams, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I don't think I will be able to breathe if you're not."

 I melt down in tears. The frail hand that is pressed against my cheek shifts slightly. I hear a familiar voice speak something in audible. I look up at Marybeth, shocked. She coughs and then licks her lips, trying to get the dryness out of her mouth so she can form words.

"We can go get 'wasted' now," she says. I sit there confused for a second. Mare smirks and I suddenly remember what she means. The first time we hung out, when I brought over chinese food, she had told me that she hadn't had a sip of alcohol in her life. That was my response. I let out a chuckle and nod my head vigorously. 

I don't speak; I just lock my lips in hers like they were meant to fit together. It's a gentle kiss, one that couldn't hurt a person who is in a fragile state like hers. But somehow the kiss is gingerly and weighted at the same time. It anchors me to the ground. 

"I'm so glad your awake," I say in between the moments when our lips touch. "I just wouldn't feel complete without you."

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A/N: WAIT. Did she just live? Thats interesting... I have never written a story where the main character lives...