Autompne

seventeen

SEVENTEEN

I folded my top and then unfolded it again. I walked to the window and then walked back to the bed again. I closed my eyes then opened them again. I repeated all the above again and again. It was my last day at the hospital because I only had a couple of days left. I'd lost count and my doctor decided not to tell me but I was fine with it. I was going to go out into the world and do whatever. It scared me despite the fact that I was pretty sure I would spend the rest of my days at home. It was no different than getting out of school for summer break.

I worried about not seeing Autumn though. I wanted to be next to her when I died. I wanted her to be the last person I saw because it'd be an honor to leave the world having known that I met beauty face to face, that I spoke to beauty and that I fell in love with beauty. I didn't know what I'd tell her either because leaving the hospital had two meanings; either I was cured, or I was dying. I couldn't make up an excuse, she'd know. Surprisingly, Autumn still hasn't confronted me about what my doctor told her and I was a bit upset, knowing that she'd keep something like that from me—something about me, from me.

I decided to take a break from all the unpacking and walk around the hospital. After all, it was my last day and I needed to say goodbye to everyone. My first stop was Jessica's room. I knocked softly, as to not scare her and when she smiled at me, knowing that in fact it was me, I felt a pain in my chest as though I couldn't breathe. There she was, expecting me to talk to her and ask for her advice like always but there I was, saying goodbye. I wasn't going to knock on her room and see her smile knowingly again. I was going to say goodbye in the nicest way possible, I was going to hug her once or twice and say that I'll visit, even though I'd be lying; I didn't know if I had enough time to visit.

I sat down where I always sat, and she sat up like she always did whenever I came to her room. I felt my hand make its way to her hand and I held onto it as if my life depended on it. I took it all in, the way her rough skin felt against mine and the way her smile grew. It was the last time.

"What's wrong, Finn?" she asked, prepared for my usual rants. Little did she know that she wasn't going to get one of my usual rants.

"I'm leaving," I blurted out, my earlier plan crumbling to pieces. Was that really my definition of nicest way possible?

"You just came here," she said in confusion and I felt another wave of pain wash over me. She was the first person I wanted to tell the news to and I already felt sad. I had to tell about ten other people and I wasn't prepared for the amount of pain. I wasn't prepared. "What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving the hospital," I said, but when I realized that it could be taken as good news—that maybe I was cured—I spoke again, "I'm leaving the hospital for my dying days, Jess."

"W-what?" she stuttered and we both fell into silence after that and with every passing moment, I felt as though someone was suffocating me and that their grip wasn't loosening—it was only getting tighter. "It's only been two weeks, that can't be."

"It's been longer than that," I trailed off.

"No, Finn, it hasn't," she denied it and I kept secretly yelling at her to stop. To stop being in denial because we all saw it coming the day I told them all I was dying. It wasn't big news and I needed her to get that in her head. I needed her to be prepared. Wasn't that why I told them in the first place? For them to be prepared for when I left? Why wasn't she prepared?

"Yes, it has," I said.

"No—"

"Please stop it!" I yelled all of a sudden, not only surprising her but surprising myself as well. I couldn't stop yelling. "You should've seen it coming, you should've been prepared and now you're making it hard for the two of us. So please just stop it."

We were both crying and we were both holding onto each other, even after all the yelling our grips didn't loosen. And we stayed there, for I don't know how long, until she fell asleep. It pained me to know that she cried herself to sleep—that I was the reason behind it. I got up, without a single glance behind me, and I left the room.

**

After two hours of goodbyes and crying so much, I felt drained. I still had one more person to say goodbye to and it was a bad idea to leave that person last because I knew it'd be the hardest thing to do. I wanted to sleep from all the crying, I wanted to go home and crawl under my blanket and stay there but I had to face her sooner or later.

I knocked on her door, my knuckles hurting only slightly because at that point, they were numb. I'd knocked on so many doors and even though it would've been easier to just tell everyone at once, I felt as though I owed each one of them their own goodbye. I felt like it wouldn't be the same if they were all together.

She pulled the door open, with a wide smile and just like that, she let me in. And just like it had with Jessica, her smile pained me. Not only was I going to tell her that yes, I was actually dying, I was also going to tell her that I was going to leave the hospital and then I suddenly remembered why I left her last.

"Sorry about the mess," she laughed nervously. "I guess that's what happens when you get a new heart, you just feel this energy out of nowhere and you start to actually do things and go places."

On a normal day, that would've made me smile. I would've gotten close to her and kissed her forehead while holding her close to me. I would've pointed out how cute her little rambling was and I would've looked her in the eye and felt my heart warm up. But that didn't happen and she noticed that too. She noticed that I wasn't the same and it made me upset that she knew me that well.

"What's wrong?" she asked, just like everyone else had.

"Please don't make this hard for the two of us," I said, my voice hoarse from all the yelling and crying. I stood there and she stood in front of me, preparing herself for what I was about to say next but I felt nothing come out of my mouth when I opened it because I was in awe. She stood still, prepared for the bad news she was going to get. She didn't show fear, she didn't show any sort of emotion. Her fists weren't clenched and it was then that I saw how strong she was. Something told me that she'd had to go through a lot before. She was strong and right then, I wished she wasn't. I wished that she'd show any sort of emotion because I wasn't as strong as she was. I wasn't going to handle it and I felt like I was going to crumble any second.

"Say it and get it over with," she said, her voice calm, loud and steady. I wanted her to stop because she was making it hard for me.

"I'm dying," I said. "And I'm leaving the hospital because I'm dying." A few seconds—that was all it took for her calm façade to break. Her fists clenched, her face showed anger and she made her way to me, pushing me back roughly again and again.

"You selfish bastard!" she yelled, her fists colliding with my chest, punching me over and over again and it felt like she was knocking all the air out of me. I deserved it though—I deserved it all. I was a selfish bastard. "You can't do this!"

I let her punch me and I let her push me, I let her let everything out because I deserved what I got. She screamed and cried until she was too tired. She finally collapsed on the ground and I sat next to her, watching her as she wrapped her arms around herself and cried till she fell asleep. I wanted to punch myself for doing that to her. All I wanted to do was be the reason she smiled but instead, I was the reason she cried. The reason she'd keep crying.

You selfish bastard, Finn.

You selfish bastard.