❝ i lived a lifetime with him and he doesn't even know it ❞
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in the sequel to my little secret, we learn that people are never the same as they are in your dreams. when david wakes up from his coma and discovers that the past six months he'd spent...
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DAVID SONG: ED SHEERAN U.N.I.
It hurt to think about him. It hurt that I had this leather bound journal hidden at the bottom of my desk draws, containing our story. Containing the life that I'd thought we'd lived, but had just been a dream.
It's an after effect of comas. Not a common one, but a known one. You live an alternate life while you are unconscious to the real world. In some cases, people can never tell fantasy from reality ever again. I'd been lucky. Within a few days the whole memory felt like one of those old country lanes you know like the back of your hand. It felt liked that song you played on repeat over and over for years.
I was still painstakingly in love with him. It had been a whole month since I'd awoken from my coma and I still refused to see him. I'd been avoiding him since the day I woke. There hadn't been a huge flurry of text messages, no. Just the odd occasional 'I hope you're okay' bullshit. No one really hopes that you are okay, they just do it for their conscience.
It was the sympathetic looks that pissed me off the most. That first few weeks of recovery, where anywhere I'd set foot, that look would accompany passers by. That sad, sorry smile that makes them feel better themselves. It doesn't make me feel better. Not in the slightest. It makes me feel worse.
Some things still confused me. Matt was moving back to America in a few days, his house now completely built. He rambled on about wanting to stay longer, wanting to look after me. I'd declined the offer. I just wanted to be by myself for a bit, and despite knowing that I'd miss him dearly, I was looking forward to it being just me.
Rob and Jimmy were coming over tomorrow, and Miranda was coming over the night Matt is due to leave, in order to keep me company. Simon had offered to come round but I'd ignored the text message. It just hurt too much, seeing him. It hurt knowing that we'd lived this little infinity together of love, hate, arguments, sex, and he had absolutely no idea.
Matt had read the book, returned it to my room whilst I was not there and we'd not spoken about it since. I'd put so much feeling and emotion into it that it almost felt awkward to voice. He knew I didn't want to talk about it, and that it was a sensitive subject. He didn't push the matter.
My phone binged, shaking me from my rendezvous. A message appeared on the screen.
From: Simon I wish you'd speak to me. I don't know what I've done wrong, this is so unlike you. Don't give me all your soppy gay shit when I say this but I miss you. I really miss you. Please call me.
I sighed, feeling my nose prickle with tears. I turned off my phone, putting it on silent and placing it at my desk. I stared at the mountain of work in front of me. The idea for my new teens book, Kiss, had gone downhill. I'd tried to recreate the chapters I'd written whilst I was 'asleep', but they just weren't the same. Nothing was the same since I'd woken up. I'd give anything and everything to go back to how it was before. I just wanted everything to be perfect again.
