The Way It Used to Be

53

Author's note:
Short chapter, but I needed to write what happens through his point of view. I think you'll like it ;)
xx

I could hear her talking, but it was like I was underwater. Her voice was far away and distorted.

"Come home, Colton." 
You're my home, Beautiful.

"Open your eyes, Colton."
I'm trying, Beautiful. I'm trying.

This continued. Over and over again, I heard her. The distortion of her voice did not the hide the desperation. She was here. She needed me. I just had to open my eyes.  I was dreaming, though. I had to be. 

My body felt heavy, like my bones were made of lead. Like I was tied to concrete blocks and floating in blackness. 

But I could hear her.

I tried to move toward the sound of her voice. The sensation of tiny wiggles felt like huge movements. I started with my toes, then my fingers. In moving my fingers, I found hers. I wasn't dreaming. I wasn't asleep.  I was awake, and she was here.

Where am I? I asked, but heard no sound come from my mouth.

Jack was with her, begging for something I couldn't quite make out.

As I laid there, I remembered. I remembered falling.  Tumbling to the ground, my eyes on Beau running toward me as I went.

I wondered briefly if I was paralyzed. Or dead. Maybe I was floating around them, my soul visiting one last time before I left this world.... and I was thankful for the chance to see her.

Don't cry, Beautiful. I'm fine. You are the love of my life.

I wasn't drifting further away, though.  I was drifting closer. Her voice became clearer and clearer, like a beacon guiding me back.

Keep talking, baby, keep talking to me. Lead me home to you.

I tried desperately to move. To grab her hand with mine. To open my eyes.

I could feel her squeezing mine. Could her telling Jack to shut up. She always was my feisty one.

I focused all of my strength on lifting my eyelids.

Come on, come on, come on, look at her.

She was still there, still talking, still begging me to open them.

I'm trying, Beautiful, I'm trying.

And then, they opened.  I could hear myself, my voice raspy and soft, asking for her. I heard her chair hit the floor, and I had a sense of deja vu... a memory of her sitting in that chair that I had never seen.

"I'm here!" she was crying, and I desperately tried to squeeze her hand tighter.

Please don't let me be dead, God. I've never asked you for anything other than her.

I pleaded in my mind, and I tried to flex muscles around my body that were sore and stiff. I could move my toes. I could flex the muscles in one of my legs. Wiggle my fingers on both hands. I could see her. I could talk to her.

And she was mine.

I stared up at her, her hand still in mine. "C-come here," I croaked, and she dropped to her knees, leaning over the bed with her head on my chest. I raised my arm slowly, resting it against the back of her head as she cried.

I remembered. I remembered the storm. I remembered her beneath me, crying out for me, telling me she still loved me... this wasn't over. We weren't over. We're never going to be over.

But what if this was a dream? What if I was moments away from leaving this world? What if I was moments away from slipping back into the blackness that held me for so long? 

Do you have any idea who you are to me, Beautiful?

"Marry me," I said, my voice finally loud and clear.