Collide

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I'M SO MOTHERFUCKING SORRY

PLEASE FORGIVE ME I'M SO BAD

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Trigger warnings: Death(well that's a spoiler), sickness, cursing, overall very realistic and depressing situations.

Oh and listen to Howie Day-Collide while reading c:

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The blinds. He wanted to get up and shut the blinds. It was too damn gloomy to keep looking outside. But it probably wasn't a good idea to leave the bed. Not his bed, but the bed. Someone whose name he could care less about would come in and shut them for him. But what sense did it make to him? Eventually the blinds will be open again and he'll have to look out again. The blinds weren't very good friends. His father came around often to keep him company, but he probably wouldn't shut the blinds either. Anthony hoped it would come quicker. "it." "it" had been there for almost months now and it was getting monotonus and unbearibly tedious to handle. He leaned over onto his side, in the dead silence of the nearly empty room, to stare at the paper taped next to the door. He read it every day, just to remind himself, as if he didn't already know. "Terminal." He spent almost an hour a day reading the word, pronouncing each syllable, tracing each figure. Is this what my life is now? He thought every single minute of the 60 minutes he did this routine.

Aside from not having any real human interaction outside of the nurses and his father's occasional visits, Anthony had let his entire life slip, metaphorically and literally. His condition left all of the connections with his friends, both distanced and local, tattered and even severed in some cases. He let his career, his Youtube channel, fall completely into ruin. People would joke around, " "lol damn is Chilled dead?"

Well.

That's all he could think of. Well.

There was a loud crack of thunder as the young male continued his daily routine of reminding himself that he was "Terminal" and that he hated his life. The door creaked open.. Chilled rolled his eyes, going back to the warmer side of the bed. Just the stupid doctor with more stupid pills or stupid reports. Stupid.

Just as he anticipated, the man walked in, carrying the generic clipboard wearing the generic white coat. Anthony tried to sit up before the man waved his hand, signaling him that he had no reason to rise. Anthony's eyes trailed to the doorway, where a shadow slowly made it's way into the room.

Another man entered, but he was certainly no doctor. He wasn't very tall. Looked maybe 5"8 Maybe 5"9.He had curly brown hair that was lightly soaked from the rainstorm outside. His hands were shoved into the pockets of a gray hoodie that seemed to be just as drenched as his hair. He obviously hadn't shaved in a while, nothing too extreme, but certainly noticable. His face was solemn, and his tired green eyes looked so full of hopelessness and desperation.

Anthony's heart stopped beating for a second. A little too early for it to stop, he still had a few hours left. He rose quickly, sitting up immediatley, no matter how much it hurt.The doctor began to speak, but decided it would be best if he left this situation to it's own design. He lightly cracked the door behind him as he left before another crash of thunder shook the room. The remaining two men didn't say anything to eachother. They stared. Simply stared. There were no words, not even a creak of a window or the sound of chattering guests in the hall. Just them, and the rain, beating down on the glass.

"W..What the hell are you doing here..-?" Anthony managed to stammer outwards. He wasn't used to talking a lot, as his throat rattled lightly at the moment of his speech.

The other male made his way to the chair placed at the side of Anthony's bed. He sat down and rested his elbows on his knees, locking his fingers together. He was still staring at Anthony, not even bothering to blink all that often. Chilled was getting unnerved. "...No s..seriousl..." The patient began, before losing his bearings and yelling-as much as his thoat allowed in terms of 'yelling'-"Steven tell me what the fuck you're doing here!?"

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