Burgundy || HS

dix

Once, someone said that death is not the frightening thing about life. It's what dies within us before death is promised to be inching up behind us. When death becomes a sea with a whirlpool, who will be there to teach us to swim and guide us out of the seemingly endless hole in the middle of the only sea we thought we could trust? But we can't trust death, nor can we cheat it. It is believed that many people cheat death by dodging a bullet or getting out of the way of an oncoming bus, but if death was truly after us, we would be dead in no time.

Death was after Emilee Johnson. Pneumonia covering both of her lungs and would soon suffocate her, or she would drown from the mucus filling her lungs. When told from the lips of a male doctor, his hair perfectly styled and beard slight, that she would die, she looked over at Jane. By far, Jane was one of the strongest women she'd ever met, and she was waiting for the reaction of her. One tear fell, then another. She didn't sob, she didn't lose her straight posture, she just allowed the tears to slip.

Mrs. Johnson smiled and nodded at the doctor, silently asking for him to leave. "Don't you cry on me, Jane. You and your little boyfriend are the only ones I got in this state, I need you to stay strong for me." Jane nodded and wiped her tears. "Don't wipe your tears around him, let it go around him. I don't need you crying over me. I'm old, I'm going to die anyway." Jane nodded again. "This might be a bit more painful, but I'm going to die anyway. I heard that no one dies of old age in the U.S. anymore, anyway. Better and less expensive than cancer, you know?"

Jane half smiled and nodded. Her mind was clouded, though. After Mrs. Johnson was gone, she would only have Harry in the state of New York. Did she want to move to England then? Jane then began to hate God as much as Harry did. Through the few bottles of who knows what, Jane found that God couldn't exist. No God would create the things she'd witnessed, no. It was then that she wanted to curse Harry for getting a cross tattoo on her favorite one of his hands.

The silence seemed to be infinite. No one dared to exchange words in fear of upsetting the other. But Mrs. Johnson wasn't afraid to die, she was afraid to leave her family and friends. She was afraid to leave Harry alone with Jane. Harry needed all the help he could get when breaking Jane's outer shell. She was afraid that Jane would be as alone as she was when she'd first met the girl. The thing that feared Mrs. Johnson the most was Jane ending up alone. Although Jane was independent and didn't need a man, she needed someone else to make her happy because she wasn't.

Sometimes you can't save people from themselves. And should Jane end up alone, it was because Harry tried to achieve what was locked away under lock and key, the key thrown into the sea of death with Mrs. Johnson's dying body. Mrs. Johnson spoke up after changing back into her regular clothes, "Take me home, Jane. Have Harry pick you up, spend time with him." Jane opened her mouth to argue but Mrs. Johnson beat her to it, "And don't argue with me. I don't plan on dying in the next day, go spend time with him."

Jane would have found that amusing, because you don't plan on dying. You don't fit car accidents into your schedule or put it on your calendar. Jane drove Mrs. Johnson's car to her apartment building and kissed her cheek goodbye when she saw Harry waiting in the parking lot for her. She'd called him on their way out of the doctor's office with a runny nose and his constant questions of her being okay annoyed her, but she knew he was just being considerate.

There was a seagreen in Harry's eyes when he saw Jane. Her face was red from the crying, but he decided not to question it. He didn't get out to open her door, but he did get out to hug Mrs. Johnson before the woman went into her building. The car ride was silent. The two people in the car couldn't help but to feel alone. There was nothing connecting them. Their breaths were uneven, they didn't talk, nor did they touch. Jane felt alone, and for once, she hated to feel alone. So, she reached over to hold her least favorite of Harry's hands, his right.

His thumb stroked her left knuckles and when they stopped at a stop light, he looked over at her. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, but it wasn't perfect like it always was. Strands wandered out of the ponytail. He wondered if he should reach over and kiss her, but she began to squeeze his hand to tell him that the light was green, so he decided against kissing her. They pulled up to Harry's apartment building. It seemed that everyone Jane knew lived in an apartment. But he did live alone, so why not live in a smaller place?

Harry guided her to his door. It was expensive, it seemed everything Harry owned was expensive since the selling of his book. It was just confirmed the other day that it would become a movie. Jane couldn't imagine how any amount of CGI and photoshop could make that movie good, but she kept her opinion quiet and congratulated Harry on the more money he would make. Pictures of his family hung and Jane realized that she knew nothing of his family, but now wasn't the time to ask.

Harry could feel Jane slipping away, he didn't even bother to take off his jacket before he guided her to the couch where she collapsed to the ground. Jane Bradley was crying. Not the tear-slipping that she did in front of Mrs. Johnson, no. Crying. Sobbing and heaving like the world was going to end the next day and the last person she loved was dying. She was crying out pain that was being replenished with each breath she took. Her unexposed midriff sucked in air until it hurt.

All Harry knew to do was to hold her. He hugged her tightly, still not knowing why she was crying. "She's going to die," she told him to answer his unspoken question.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

Jane sniffed. Now that the crying was over, Harry suddenly felt highly uncomfortable. Awkwardness mumbling in the air brought heat to his body, so he removed his jacket. Silence dragged on while Jane stared ahead, Harry staring at her. Then, he scratched the back of his neck and coughed, "So... do you wanna fuck?" Jane slightly chuckled and noted that he was at least trying to comfort her. She gave him a tight side hug and didn't let go until he spoke again, "I was being serious, Jane." She looked up at him. Jane was an afterglow. An array of oranges and reds blending together to meet as one. A beautiful fire once the actual fire of the sun has disappeared. She placed her head on his shoulder. "I can make you feel better, Jane."

"Temporarily."

"Still better." She swallowed and nodded. And, in lust and pure adoration, he kissed her once more.

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well, ain't harold just the charmer? im in the middle of history class and i literally wanna just give up on this class. hope you liked it and i love you all so fucking much, k ♥