No More Lonely Nights - A Fan Fiction

No More Lonely Nights - Chapter Sixty-Five

ALLIE: I'm in that state now where I'm too shocked to even cry, really. I can't do anything- can't cry, can't think... I don't want to do anything. I just want to hold him for a while, give myself a chance to accept this, and then I'll go home, find that bottle of sleeping pills in my medicine cabinet, and make this pain go away forever.

I can't believe he's gone. I don't want to believe it. Maybe he's just asleep. I know the truth, so why am I lying to myself? I think I'm just trying to shove the truth away as long as I can. I don't want to accept this. I can't.

What will the others think? What will they say? I don't want to have to be the one to break the news to John in particular. Like I really want to be the one to say, "Oh, by the way, John, your best friend died tonight." What will the rest of the world think? The Beatles are no more as of two-fifteen this morning. I know John, he won't look for a replacement bass player. They'll call it quits. Sad, especially since they are the most famous and popular music group on the planet. The world lost someone tonight, someone amazing and beautiful and talented and sweet and gentle and... I felt tears coming again as I thought of all the words that described him.

"I love you," I whispered, even though he couldn't hear me. "I love you so much. I'll always love you. There's not another man alive I could ever love, only you. I don't know why it had to end this way. I'm just thankful I was here for you and that you didn't go through this alone."

The room was silent, save for the sobs that were finally escaping my throat. I had never felt a pain like this before. All I knew was that I couldn't live like this. Soon, I'd end it all. I had no other choice.


PAUL: I had to shield my eyes, the light before me was so blindingly bright that I could not see a thing. I looked around and saw nothing but light all round me. A glorious, bright, almost tangible light.

Was I really dead? I had to be. I was alone, standing in this field of light with no one anywhere near me. I suppose this is the afterlife, or some form of it, anyway. But where was everyone else? Why was I the only one standing here? I took several steps forward and saw a figure ahead of me. I wasn't the only one here after all. I moved closer to the mysterious person and stopped when I saw who it was. I hesitated a moment before speaking, hardly believing who was standing before me. "Mum? Is it really you?"

"It is, Paul," she said, in the voice I knew so well, the voice I had missed hearing for the past eight years.
"But what are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here yet. I was sent to tell you."

"I died, didn't I?" I questioned. "Why else would I be here?"

My mother reached out and took my hand. "Paul, it's not time for you to be here yet. You have many, many more years ahead of you. People have near-death experiences, you likely know. They die and come here to heaven only to be sent back to earth almost as quickly as they get here. That's what is happening to you. You'll be back soon."

"I hope so," I said. "Not that I don't want to be here, it's just... I would rather live my life. Be with my love. You know what I mean?"

My mother nodded. "Go home, now, son. Please. Go back to your life, your career, the woman who loves you and cares for you."

I saw the light fade away, saw my mother's spirit vanish slowly, and then darkness. I opened my eyes and saw the bare white walls of the hospital room. I was back.


ALLIE: Suddenly the machines started up again, and I saw the flat line on the heart monitor resume its typical wavy pattern. I gasped and let out a cry. Was it possible that... no, it couldn't be. Wishful thinking on my part.

I heard a sound reminiscent of someone choking, and I realized that the person making such a sound was Paul. Wait, he couldn't be, he was... I looked down and saw his eyes were open, and he was attempting to take a deep breath. He sat up and began coughing, so hard that he vomited all over the pristine white sheets. "What... happened?" he spoke up a moment later. "Allie?"

"I'm here," I said. "But, you were... Paul, you died."

"Apparently... so," he replied, his breathing rapid and shallow. "But I'm back... aren't I?"

"It appears that way," I said, pulling the vomit-covered sheet down to the end of the bed. I would call for someone to change the sheets in a moment. "Oh my God, Paul, don't scare me like that again! You were dead, honestly. All those machines stopped, you weren't breathing, anything. For I think around fifteen minutes. I don't know exactly how long it was, I was too shocked to notice the time."

"I know... I died, I... went to Heaven... or at least... some version of... an afterlife. My... mum was there."

I was silent for a long moment. "Really?"

He nodded. "She said... it wasn't time... yet, so... here I am... again." He coughed again, not quite as harshly as he did a moment ago. "I'm not going... anywhere."

"Please don't," I whispered. "Just don't."

"I'm not." He laid back against the pillows, and I stepped out into the hall and flagged down a passing nurse to get the sheets changed. I didn't mention to the nurse bringing the fresh linens what had happened; honestly, those fifteen minutes had terrified me to the point that I didn't want to speak about them to anyone. "Are you sure you're all right?" I asked him after the nurse had left.

"I am," Paul replied, coughing. "The main question... though, are you?"

"I'm all right, just shaken up," I said, gripping his hand. I was totally oblivious to the IV needle in the back of his left hand until I saw him grimace, and I released my hold on his hand. "No, hold it," he said. "Just... not that tight."

"You're burning up with fever," I mused, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "Apparently you were hallucinating earlier."

He shrugged. "I guess. I... don't recall." He turned slightly on his side, though I could tell even that took effort, and closed his eyes. "You're not... leaving, right?"

"No, I'm going to stay," I answered. I leaned over and kissed his forehead, and he smiled weakly, as if he didn't even have the strength for that simple gesture. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Why did you... come back to me?" he asked, his tone winded. "I don't deserve... for you to... even think about-"

"I love you, okay? That's all I'm going to say for you. We'll talk about it eventually. I do have things to say to you, but not now. Not when you're like this. You can barely move or even breathe, so let's not get into all of that now."

I stood and walked across the room to the light switch by the door, turned off the overhead light and then returned to the chair I had pulled from the corner over to the bedside. I took his hand in both of mine and held it, trying to keep all of my thoughts at bay as I sat by the bed, the only sounds filling the room being that of his laboured breathing and the noises of the various pieces of medical equipment to which he was currently wired.

Paul seemed so surprised that I had come back to him so willingly, which lets me know that he comprehends that everything he did and has been doing was wrong and he feels guilty for it. All I know is that I couldn't bring myself to leave him no matter what on earth he could do to hurt me, be it intentional or accidental.

I know this isn't the first time we'll be angry with each other over something. I can guarantee we'll have worse arguments than we had two days ago over things far less significant once we're permanently living under the same roof with each other all day long, every day for the rest of our lives. There will come times when we'll absolutely want to kill each other over the littlest and albeit stupidest things, but that's the way relationships work, even if the two people in the relationship love each other more than anything else in the world.

Of course, I also realize how much I have changed over the past going on three years, from that naïve sixteen-year-old girl who fell in love with an ambitious, talented young musician to the almost-nineteen-year-old woman that I am now who is marrying that same musician, only he is even more ambitious and even more talented than he was when I met him when he was nineteen. My sixteen-year-old self never even thought about us getting into major arguments, or having disagreements, or even marrying each other. I saw only the typical "young love" side of things, but what sixteen-year-old doesn't?

I laid my head on the blankets spread over the bed and shut my eyes, though I knew I wouldn't sleep at all tonight no matter how hard I tried. Even though I was physically exhausted and emotionally drained, I couldn't fall on to sleep. My mind was too filled with worry for me to do so and probably would be until he was finally better. Hopefully that would be as soon as possible.