Sometimes Death Isn't Even the Worst Thing That Can Possibly Happen - Free!

Chapter 2: Haruka might never ... again

Authorsnote;
Hey there,
no additional warnings today, because if you got through chapter 1 you can also handle this one I'm sure, haha.

Hope you'll enjoy!

Love, Noa <3

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Just like every late afternoon, after giving Haruka his third meal of the day, I sit down beside his bed with the book I'm reading at that moment. And I'll read Haruka from it, because the doctors told me that it might help him regain some brain function; though they're almost certain Haruka's not going to improve any more after four years of being in a PVS.

Today I'm reading him from "The Memory Book" by Lara Avery, which I'm reading for the second time now. I've taken a liking to the sappy medical stories, probably because I can relate to them in a strange way. Especially to Samantha's parents in this book, because they slowly see their child being torn away from them by Niemann Pick type C. And at the same time, I've lost everything I loved of my best friend, in the short moment of ten minutes.

I open the book on the first page and glance at Haruka, who's looking extremely tired as his eyes close briefly every once in a while. I smile when his ocean blue eyes meet mine for a moment, because my heart still manages to skip a beat whenever I feel like Haruka's actually looking at me; even though I know, behind those eyes, there's no one home.

"If you're reading this, you're probably wondering who you are." I start reading, in a slow and almost whispery voice. "I'll give you three clues."

Haruka's mouth opens and closes as I read on. It's almost as if he wants to talk, as if he wants to say something that's one hundred percent Haruka-like, but he can't. Because he doesn't talk, or mumble, he just moves his lips and turns his head a little so the un-swallowed saliva runs out of his mouth and onto the pillow that's laid down next to his head.

I wince, forcing myself to look back at the book and ignore the horrifying image of my twenty-one-year-old best friend drooling on himself as I'm reading him a bedtime story like he's a baby.

"Clue three; you are still alive." I pause, swallowing to try to get my throat to not feel so tight. "You are me, Samantha Agatha McCoy, in the not-so-distant future. I'm writing this for you."

I catch myself off-guard, glancing up at Haruka again, to see him slowly starting to breathe slower as his eyes close for longer periods of time.

"They say my memory will never be the same."

For some reason I love watching Haruka fall asleep more than anything. Maybe it's because he's like a little kid falling asleep during his bedtime story, only one page into the story. Or maybe it's because it's nice to see that he at least still has a wake-sleep cycle instead of being completely brain-dead.

"That I'll start forgetting things. First a little, and then a lot."

Haruka's eyes have been closed for a long while now, almost two minutes which is long for him, and he's breathing less quickly which means he's probably falling asleep faster than usually.

"So, I'm writing to remember." That's the last sentence I read out loud before laying down the book, and making sure Haruka hasn't wet himself in the moments that have passed and wiping the drool off his face so he can sleep without having a wet face.

When I'm certain Haruka's asleep and well, I get my bag from the kitchen and start doing my work and eat dinner myself. It's only six in the evening, so that's still possible, there have been days that I started eating and doing work at twelve.