Life Ends, Love Stays (A Moey Fanfic)

Chapter 38 - Life is Short

Meghan's POV

I grabbed my stinging hand with my other hand in attempt to stop the pain that raced up and down my hand. My eyes were now open, staring at Joey who held is face in agony and astonishment in front of me. He stared back. His eyes were still glazed over, making his eye colour dull and he seemed to not stare at me, but through me. It was like he could see right behind me and past that. It was the stare of a drunk man.

"Meghan. What the fuck was that?" Joey boomed, ripping his hand away from his face. I backed down, losing all my confidence from the rush of adrenaline before.

"You wouldn't stop and I-I," I scrambled, thinking of something, anything to say that might help his situation even the slightest bit. "I don't like the way you're acting." I straightened up.

"What do you even mean!?" He threw his hands up make infuriating hand motions.

"How all of a sudden you forgot about all this!" I threw my hands up as well, "I'm dying Joey. I really am. I don't have much time left. And if you have to drunk your ass up to avoid it, you can't. You can't avoid death, so sorry on your part." I had forgotten about the many people still sitting or standing around the room, eyes wide. Even Kalel stood on the door mat, though she said she was leaving.

Joey's face scrunched up in confusion as he touched his face once again. "Meghan..." He tried to collect his drunken self, failing in the process, "I'm sorry, I-I don't know what got into me."

"Alcohol." I spat, feeling tears form behind my tired yet alert eyes. Even though I tried to stay strong on the outside, on the inside I was breaking, "Alcohol got into you." And with that, I stormed up the stairs.

Joeys POV

I awoke with a pounding headache invading my head as I tried to get some rest. I don't know how long that party went on for, and I also don't know how much I drank that might. But judging on the agonizing headache and nausea, I settled with the answer, a lot. Even opening my eyes was a pain.

The house was silent to my ears. No one lay beside me, no one was heard cooking downstairs, no one seemed to be anywhere. And then I got worried, "Meghan?" I croaked, wondering where she was.

I didn't remember anything from last night. I don't even remember ending the party, or even falling asleep. God knows how I got into my own bed. I stepped out of bed, stumbling around the bedroom, holding my horribly hurting head. I wobbled out the door and across the hall to the large bathroom. My heart jumped as I saw Meghan sleeping on the floor of the bathroom.

She sat upright leaning against the pale blue wall, her head rested on her shoulder. Her knees where tucked to her chest but they had already slid down. Meghan's face was almost white, the same colour that shows up when you press down on your hand. And in that very moment, I thought she was dead.

"Meghan!?" I screamed, bending down to her level, feeling overjoyed as her eyes opened with the sound of my voice. It was as if a million weights were tied to me with strong ropes, and in that exact moment, each rope was cut and the weights dropped, letting me finally get a breath of relief. "Oh my god, I thought you were dead!" I breathed.

"Honestly, I thought I was too." Was all she said back before adding, "I don't have much time left."

"I don't have much time left."

That one line echoed in my ear until I remembered. I remembered the party. I remembered the drinks being passed around, the glistening glasses getting blurrier with every shot until the became just a bright light. I remembered the people, each one laughing and talking and just having a good time. I remember Meghan. I remember kissing her, my pleasure being replaced with a sharp pain in my cheek. I remember the fight, and those words:

"I don't have much time left."

"After puking my guts out for about 5 hours, I thought that was the end of it." She sighed, looking down at her fingers, "I had one shot, one, and this is what I get!"

"You'll be okay..." I said, a little bit of doubt in my voice, trying my best to wash it away. "We have to get ready, common." I smiled, standing up and holding my hand out to help Meghan up.

"I don't wanna go." She frowned, taking my hand and standing up with my help.

"Why not?"

"Because I feel as if it is an unintentional reminder of my own death. Those fake flowers, the gloomy colours, the uncomfortable little bed, people crying, people waiting for the news, everything about my place just reminds me that one day I'm going to die there. And I hate it."