He Was Dying

Chapter Twenty-Five

"I finally recognized your sweater."

  A voice spoke to my left. I huffed, my eyes blinking open. My body ached like earlier, but not as much. I groaned, sitting up from my slouch, and looked at Luke. He sat beside me a few feet away, arms resting on his knees. His eyes were gentle and patient, a small smile on his lips. His deep red sweater was still ripped, a layer of dust and dirt in some spots. 

"What?" I spoke after a while, my voice hoarse yet a higher pitch.

"The guy on your sweater," Luke explained, glancing at my chest. "I figured he looked familiar." He then looked up, staring at me. I suddenly felt small, his eyes burning into me, past my own. "I like the green." 

  I was caught off guard, confused by his statement. I raised a hand to rub a scar forming on my cheek. I paused in shock when I felt the soft scrape of hairs on my cheek. I stared down at my hand. No longer was it a dull grey, but a pale peach. My hands pressed to the sides of my face, fidgeting around my head, fingers tangling through waves of hair and zero rabbit ears. I finally had the guts to look back at Luke, being met with a wide smirk. "The.. green?"

  He shuffled closer to me, holding my face in his palms. "Your eyes," he said. "They're green, somewhat brown. I think I like them better than solid white." My cheeks burned, but this time my skin didn't melt; my heart did.

  "T-thank you," I stuttered out, still confused. My head still in his hands, I looked past him, seeing an empty tunnel. "Where is everyone?"

Luke, without a word, stood up and offered me his hand. Hesitantly, I took it, letting him help me up. I was shorter than him, which shocked me for a moment. I shook as I walk, having to lean on him for support. I was still in my grey hoodie, with a rip trailing down the front of it and a torn stitch on the sleeve. He guided me to the door with the red light, nodding to the wheel that locked us in. With my free arm that wasn't wrapped around him, I gripped the wheel and turned it until it creaked and shuddered. I shoved it open. 

A stairwell stared at us through the doorway, and he and I stumbled up it. As we made out way up, I held onto the railing for dear life. Fog streamed in from the door at the top of the stairs, and we stepped out into fresh air. I inhaled deeply, coughing after so long in that wretched sewer. We were in a field, exiting out of a concrete bunker attached to nothing. I looked behind us, staring at the brick walls I was once trapped within. Metal gates towered in the distance, and I felt somewhat of a comfort glow in my chest. Luke led me through dead grass that scratched at our arms towards a forest that peered through the eerie mist.

   As we approached, the group looked up at us, brightening and cheering, jumping from where they sat in the grass or on fallen trees. A blond boy in purple ran up to us, some of the group following him. He yanked me away from Luke, who I heard bite back a remark, to pull me into his arms. My head rested against his chest, a clear role reversal. 

  "God, I'm so glad you're okay," Bryce whispered, nuzzling into my hair. "But, I don't know if I expected..." He paused, pulling away from the embrace. "You." He smiled at me, which made me return it.

"Holy shit," I heard Delirious mutter behind me. I stepped away from Bryce, looking at him. His hands were over his mouth, and it looked like he was going to burst into tears before he ran up to hug me. "Ryan, holy fuck, I can't believe this," he rambled, shaking. Evan placed a hand on his shoulder and Delirious let me go, wiping tears from his eyes. 

"Ryan?" I repeated. He nodded, ecstatic. 

  I looked at Luke, the soft smile still on his face. I turned to face the group that still sat by the trees. Smitty stood, walking up to me. He was still shorter, which was comforting as no one else was. He lifted my sweater to look at the design, then looking back up at me. A smirk tugged at his lips. "Motherfucker, it is you."