In the End ~ PG ~ Original Fiction
Title: In the End
Author:
artimis_potter
Rating: PG
Warnings: Major Character Death
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 1,675
A/N: This was a Creative Writing assignment. ORIGINAL FICTION.
The hospital waiting room couldn’t be any bleaker, even if you tried. The stark white walls boasted only one picture, and that’s of the hospital founder. I felt numb, so numb that even the uncomfortable burgundy and metal chairs didn’t even faze me.
I can’t even wrap my head around the reason why I’m here. This can’t be happening.
‘I’m sorry. There’s nothing more we can do for Ben. I’m afraid his injuries are too great. He won’t make it through the night.’
The doctors said this so coldly in my mind. I couldn’t believe it was true; I still can’t believe it. Across the hall Ben’s parents are saying their goodbyes to him. He’s still awake, but barely. My heart aches with guilt. After all, if he hadn’t been angry at me, he wouldn’t have gone driving and consequently gotten into the wreck. My heart aches because of something I don’t want to name. I’ve known it for so long and I never told him, now I may never have the chance. I remember the day we met. We were only five at the time, and just starting school.
I was sitting at a round table with a girl and two boys. I didn’t understand why Mommy left me in this strange place. I just wanted to go home and play. The woman, who told us that her name was Ms. Carn, passed out drawing paper to all of us then set a tub of crayons in the middle of the table. I had never seen so many colors in one box of crayons before. Ms. Carn Teacher Lady asked us to draw our family. I selected a dark green crayon and carefully started drawing. A few minutes later one of the boys leaned over and looked at my drawing and said, ‘You a good drawer.’ ‘Thanks.’ I said proudly. From that day on we were inseparable, and neither I nor anyone else could understand why that one conversation sparked a lifelong friendship. One that was about to end very abruptly.
I sighed sadly. This couldn’t be happening. And all because of a stupid fight. One I initiated. My throat tightens involuntarily, but I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t let him know that he was dieing. The door across from me opened as Ben’s parents, his crying mother and his stone-faced father, exit. His mother looks at me and simply says, “He wants to see you.”
I nod weakly as I stand. I can’t speak; the lump that has permanently lodged itself prohibits it. I take a deep breath as I step into the stark white room. I can see him lying so still on the crisp, white sheets and I already fear the worst, that I never got to tell him what I want to say. That I never got to say goodbye, but his eyes flutter open to my relief. He looks at me, his eyes unreadable. I walk unsteadily to him, the whole time trying to think of something to say. I’m at a loss, so I decide to go with whatever my emotions tell me to say. I barely register the fact that I was now sitting in the uncomfortable chair beside his bed. He’s looking at me, unreadable expression still in place though there is an underlying weariness to it. I knew that expression from earlier tonight. It was the expression he wore when he told me that he was moving out of our small apartment, when I had screamed at him for even thinking it. I realized then that he was waiting for me to yell at him for getting in the accident, he was bracing himself. I knew I had a hell of a temper, but this was too much. Yelling couldn’t be further from my mind. I wouldn’t be able to yell at him even if he wasn’t dieing, because it had been my fault he had left.
I felt his hand atop the one I hadn’t been aware of placing on his bed. The next thing I knew I was laying next to him in the small hospital bed, sobs racking my smaller frame. I simply lay against him, remembering another time Ben held me like this.
When I got the news about Jordan, neither one of us reacted much. That was until we were standing beside her grave. Ben knelt first and traced the grooves in the smooth, grey stone. I sunk down beside him, my fingers following his. Finally my fingers caught up to his and they tangled of their own accord. He broke first, tears cascaded down his cheeks. My free hand came up to wipe the salty droplets from his normally cheerful face. I didn’t realize I was crying until Ben’s hand gently cupped my face, his thumb sweeping across my cheek. He wasn’t normally a tender person though I normally didn’t cry, so we were even. We were both sobbing messes before we realized it had hit. My arms went around his shoulders; his arms went around my waist, and we cried together in mutual grieving for our mutual friend. My face pressed against his blue dress shirt, darkening it with my tears. It seemed like hours we cried, and it was only when the tears wouldn’t come anymore that we broke apart. We looked at each other with sad, watery smiles. Ben broke the melancholy of the moment by murmuring, “We are a couple of pathetic saps, aren’t we?” I laughed weakly in response. We stood simultaneously and brushed off the dirt. We looked back once before departing silently; no words needed to be said, we had said everything with our gestures at the grave.
I wish that it were someone else’s best friend lying in this hospital bed, and I know that’s horribly selfish of me but I don’t care. I just wanted to go home with Ben and order some pizza or Chinese and lounge on the couch while watching lame reality shows. I just want a normal night with my best friend, but I couldn’t have a normal night; I would never have a normal night again with him. All this was about was him moving out. My selfish nature came out for a moment in both shock and hurt. I didn’t want to lose him, but now I’ve screwed that up for good.
“Taylor, I’ve been thinking-,” Ben started.
“Did it hurt?” I teased.
“I’m being serious.” And I saw in his eyes that he was, which instantly worried me. He had looked almost like when Jordan died. My eyes were instantly on him attentively. Once he saw that he had my undivided attention, he started again, “I was thinking about you and me.” My heart started beating faster. Did he know?
“I think I should move out, to give us both some space,” he said, his ears turning red.
I thought my heart stopped. No, he can’t leave. Not now, not ever.
“No,” my voice sounded rough, “You can’t leave.”
“And why not?” he demanded, his voice taking the angry tone I was used to, “Give me one good reason, Taylor!”
Because I don’t want to lose you, because I need you, I thought. I didn’t say anything, however, because I thought there was nothing to say.
“You’re the one acting as if you don’t want me here! You act as though I don’t exist anymore. This is for the best, Taylor, you can have your space and I can have mine.”
But I was still caught up in the part about not wanting him anymore, “I do want you,” I said softly before I could stop it, “I’ve needed you since we met. I will always need you. Don’t leave, please.”
His face didn’t change at all. “I’m leaving.”
He did. He left me sitting, broken, on the living room couch.
An hour later the phone rang. Hoping that it was Ben, I answered it. Instead of Ben’s voice, I got his mother’s. Her voice was almost unintelligible from crying. Finally I was able to coax out the one sentence I didn’t want to hear, the one sentence that would change my life forever, “Ben was in an accident. There’s nothing the doctors can do. He’s dying.” Seconds later I was on my way to the local hospital, my head filled with thoughts of denial.
There was no denial now. He was dying, and I had to tell him one last thing. The one thing I was afraid to say to him in fear of losing his friendship. I lifted my head from his warm shoulder. His eyes were closed, but opened as soon as I moved. Gathering my courage, I spoke, “Ben, there’s something I need to tell you. I was so afraid to tell you before because I was afraid of losing your friendship. Just so you realize how much you mean to me, I would rather be miserable as your friend than be miserable without you. Ben, I love you; more than a brother, more than a friend. I didn’t want you to leave because I’m selfish. I wanted you to myself. I’m sorry; I should have respected your decision, but I needed you more than I wanted to admit. I still need you, but now because of my stupidity I’ll never have you. I’m so sorry, and I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me when I meet you,” my tears choked me then. I couldn’t go on anymore. His tired eyes looked at me with an expression I didn’t expect: love. His hand cupped my cheek as he whispered, “I’ll forgive you, and I’ll always love you.”
I understood then why he felt like he should move out. He felt as though he needed to get away, lest he mess up our friendship. We were both stupid, and he was paying the price.
Those were the last words Ben ever said to me; he passed two hours later. I will never forget those words. Ever.