(( I started this years ago, as a moody 14 year old. Something about this story, though, rang in my head. Her name, Alexandria Roberts, her go-getter attitude, her confidence, her ability to be happy with real suffering. I don't know, it nagged at me. I wanted to be like her. I wanted to be her, feeling something like her. I romanticized her sadness in the form of a 5SOS fan fiction, and that, in and of itself, describes my mental state at the time. But things are different now. My life is different. I am different now.
So as a strange, 'okay, you're done' kind of thing, I wanted to finish it, conclude it in its original way. The story (which was written VERY poorly), went like this:
Ashton Irwin comes to New York to stay with his aunt in hopes of finding himself along the way. But, while there he finds the charismatic Alex Roberts. She's everything and more. They hit it off pretty fast. But, she's really sick. And unnervingly alone. Distraught because of everything, Ashton makes it his goal to 'save' her in some sense of the word. To bring her happiness, to help her in her times of need, to be there for the person he loves. But, we all know how these stories go. Girl meets boy, girl is terminally ill, girl fights it but nothing works, so instead of suffering, she decides to let go naturally, Ashton at her side.
This is that final scene. The final let go, in more than one way: ))
Sitting next to a body whose life was as fleeting as the wind really does something to a soul.
The fact of knowing something so precious, a person so valuable, is to disappear before your eyes... That's the sensation of true dying. I may be watching her life end. I may be feeling the heat leave her body, the breath leave her lungs, her blue eyes shut for good... But it's me whose really dying. A shell.
A false being, hers without a soul, mine without a purpose.
"Alex," I whispered, my voice hallow in my chest; quiet, only meant for her pink tipped ears. She glanced at me, those crystal pools connecting with my lifeless orbs. Her expression was gentle, soft, especially for someone dancing with death right before me. The sight of her calmness soothed my rapid heartbeat.
She mad a noise indicating to me it was time to follow up my call of her name. But, truth be told, I just wanted to say it to her while she was still here... still able to hear it. Though, despite this, words came from me without clear intention. "Does... does it hurt?"
"What?" She asked, straining her neck to get a better look of my face. Her eyes were clear with intent. I could hear the concern for my question in her tone. "Does what hurt?"
I paused, thinking of a correct way to phrase my words realizing how actually insensitive my questioning really was. Avoiding my gaze from her intense stare, I sent a restless hand through my hair. "The dying... does it hurt?"
Alex made a small noise of amusement, picking up on my nervousness and probably wondering how much of a baby I have been. Her head hit the pillow as she turned to her back, crossing her hands over her stomach like she was already in her casket. She started sleeping like that a few months back, saying it was 'practice' for death, or something. I remembered her chuckling, telling me that she needed to get used to the feeling now or else she'd be uncomfortable forever. I don't understand how she's been so calm about this... She was leaving the earth as calm as stream. No stress in her face, no tears in her eyes, and a smile on her lips.
"Not really," she admitted, rather matter-of-factly. Her eyes darted for a moment, like she was trying to see the words she wanted to say. "It feels... it feels like your first day of school in a new place." I found the metaphor a bit odd, but it really grabbed my attention. I grabbed her hand.
"It feels like jitters. Excitement and a bit of fear of the unknown. Nothing really hurts, exactly. It actually feels surprisingly normal." Her hand squeezed mine and she offered me a smile; the one I'd fallen in love with. "I feel good, Ash. I feel good... finally."
My heart swelled. She feels good. Her eyes are happy. Her face is relaxed. Her hand is cold.
"I'm glad," is what I muttered, but my voice cracked and tears welled. I told her I didn't want her to see me cry. I don't want her to feel bad about leaving, she didn't have a choice. Don't look of me, don't see this, don't feel guilty because I cannot contain my emotions. I'm sorry.
Before I could get a grip, I was crying. My hands wiping my eyes like a child, hers hadn't left mine, now wet with my salty tears. I want to tell her I don't want her to go. I want to tell her that she's the love of my life, and that no one else will ever have my heart like she does. I want to talk about all of our great days together, and how I'm never going to be happy again. I want to beg her to reconsider the chemo, to extend her life if only for a few months. I want to say something, anything, to make this not happen. But... "Alex... I-I'm glad it doesn't hurt." Is what came from my broken voice.
I couldn't clearly see her through my blurred vision, but I knew she was smiling. I could feel her sad, sleepy smile. Her hand squeezed mine again, her other pale hand touching my opposing cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "Ash," she said again, her voice soft and kind; a motherly tone of calming. "I love you."
Nodding profusely, kissing the palm of her icy hand. It was growing colder and colder by the second. "I love you too! I love you too!" I said on repeat between the sloppy kisses. My vision was underwater, but I could see her. Her face as beautiful as when we met. Those freckles, her soft, plush, pink lips in a sweet smile. Her eyes, clear blue like the sky. She was beautiful in every sense. Beauty is fleeting, she used to say. In that moment, it rang in my head in a somber way, realizing hers really was... her beautiful face, her kind soul, her rebellious spirit, all get to be laid to rest with her. Beauty is fleeting.
Alex's eyes drifted upward, her eyes focusing on the florescent lighting of the hospital room. "Hey," she said, her voice quiet, like she was telling me a secret. My breath hitching in my throat, the tears flowing soundlessly. "I think I'm heading out."
Her heart was stopping; mine already did. Don't go, please, don't go. "Okay," is what I said, both of my hands gripping her singular, freckled one. "I'm with you."
She nodded weakly, smiling at nothing. A minute or two passed before her breathing really started to cut. Machines beeped in panic but the sound seemed quiet. My heartbeat rang in my ears, suddenly frustrated that mine still was pumping hard while hers was failing in her chest.
I muttered her name again. Alex made a quick noise between short gasps of air. "I love you," I said again. "I'll... I'll see you around, right?"
A strange smile hit her face again. "Yeah," she said. "I'm just down the street." The cemetery was my first thought. From the hospital, sure, it was close. But, the way she said it, it didn't feel like that's what she meant. It felt as though she knew something... something I didn't. And I wanted to believe her.
I nodded. "See you soon."
She smiled again. "Yeah," a break in her tone, another machine beeping aggressively, nurses gathering. A DNR already on file, all they could do is watch. As powerless as me, holding her cold, cold hand. "See you around, kid."
It was a Tuesday when she died. A regular, sunny Tuesday in New York when she took her last breath. Her last words ring in my ears.
Yeah, okay Alex.
I'll see you around.
