Here's My Number

Epilogue

The sun peeks over the horizon, getting ready to wake up the world. The birds outside chirp their morning tunes. The clouds are painted in shades of gold and orange and red.

You've been up all night staring out your bedroom window.

There are dried tears on your face, sticky and shiny.

Your reflection in the window slowly disappears as the light of day grows brighter and brighter.

Your phone buzzes on the window sill in front of you.

It's not him. You know it's not him. In the past three weeks, you've learned to stop hoping that it would be him.

A familiar black car pulls up into the driveway. The sunlight casts a golden glow on the roof of the car. Mikey steps out of the driver's side. He visits a lot. To take care of you, he says, but everyone knows you're not getting any better.

Mikey disappears from view as he steps onto your front porch. You shift your eyes back to the rising scarlet sun.

The front door downstairs opens and then closes, and the sound of Mikey talking to your mother reaches your ears.

Then there is silence. You know that means Mikey is coming up the stairs. Your door opens and in he walks. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see his faded reflection in the window grow larger as he nears, rolling your office chair over to the spot next to you.

"Hey."

Mikey speaks softly, knowing to be delicate around you.

"Your mother is almost done making breakfast."

"I'm not hungry."

Silence.

Mikey watches out the window with you.

"How long have you been up this time?"

You don't answer.

A long, quiet moment passes.

"You know, the less you sleep, the more likely it is that you will start passing out at random times."

You don't care. You've been home for a while. You're not going anywhere. If you pass out, you'll be in your room.

School started up again last week and mom tried to get you to go, but you won't.

Not without him.

The only sound in your room is Mikey's breathing, which is much louder than your own weak, feeble breathing.

"It's today," Mikey murmurs.

Today. Today is the day.

"I'm going to the hospital in a moment. Do you want to come with me? To say good bye, I mean. Last chance to come."

"What good will that do?" You say hollowly. Your voice is scratchy from not using it enough. "He won't hear me."

"Not for him," Mikey says. He places a hand on your shoulder. "For you. He may not be able to hear you but you do need it."

You don't answer. Mikey removes his hand and picks up your phone.

"You've got a text from Namjoon," he says. You don't move your gaze away from the sun, which is getting to be too bright for your eyes. "I'll look at it later."

Mikey sighs. He unlocks your phone and reads the text aloud.

"I heard that today is the day. I thought you would want someone to talk to. How are you feeling?"