Five Feet Apart - How it Continues

Chapter 1

STELLA

"Human touch. Our first form of communication. Safety, security, comfort, all in the gentle caress of a finger. Or the brush of lips on a soft cheek. It connects us when we're happy, bolsters us in times of fear, excites us in times of passion and love." I swallow hard and have to clamp my jaws together to keep my tears in. I clear my throat and try to focus on the camera again.
"We need that touch from the one we love almost as much as we need air to breathe. But I never understood the importance of touch." Now I can no longer hold my tears. His blue eyes pierce my thoughts and they cause a lot of pain. Since Will left me, I tried to remember the feeling of his fingers on my shoul-ders. His fingers that tried to comfort me when Poe died.

"His touch." A tear rolls down my cheek and I try to make this moment as special as possible. I want Will to know that I still love him. "Until I couldn't have it. So if you're watching this and you're able. Touch him. Touch her. Live's too short to waste a second."
I push the off-button of my camera and sigh. It feels weird being in the hospital without Poe's jokes to laugh about or Will to love in times of loneliness. That's also why I'm pretty relieved about today; My new lungs are working really good. They seem to work for about hundred per cent, which is really nice since I can breath flawlessly again. This means that I can go back home this evening.
While I try to upload the video, my gaze falls on a sheet of paper that is lying on my med car with a beautiful yellow bow. I clear my throat again and feel the tears come again. It is the ribbon that Will used for his gift when I left the operation.
Why is it so hard that Will is gone? I calm my head down and get out of bed.
My gaze glides over the wall with drawings of Will that I have hung up so that I no longer have to feel alone in this slow time. I have to get all of them down today, since this isn't going to be my room anymore – for the next five years at least.

I connect my camera with my laptop and start a live-stream on Youtube. With-in a few second a few people are watching and I know I have to act like I'm at least a little bit happy about leaving the hospital – I haven't said a word about Poe dying and Will leaving this hospital on my Youtube channel, because people might pity me.

"Hello world!" I loudly say, trying to sound cheerful. "So, as you see my room is a mess. And that's a lot. As you know, I hate clutter, so it is hard for me to see it this way."

I gesture at room behind me, things are laying on the floor and my bed is partly covered in clothes that I still need to fit in my suitcases.

"That's because..." I tap with my hands on the ground to imitate the sound of a drumroll. "... I'll be leaving the hospital today! Yes, you heard that right. I'll be leaving! A few days ago I had a lung-transplant that I needed to recover from, but since these lungs are working really good, I don't have to stay here any-more!"
People are starting to leave comments on the video. I can read happy ones, confused ones and all kinds of questions that people have. I'm not going to answer any of the questions, because I just wanted to go live to have someone to talk to while emptying my room and filling my suitcases.

"So, as you all might know, with leaving the hospital comes emptying my room," I explain. "I'm just going to put everything in my suitcase and I'll be back after that!"

I turn off the camera, because I've realised that I'm not at all in the mood to talk to a camera while emptying my room. I get up and start taking down all the drawings that are on my wall. I hold one of Will's drawings in my hand and I feel how a tear rolls over my cheek.
My finger glides over the cartoon he drew for me when he pressed my nose to the fact. The letters that make the word "sorry" have much more meaning for us than the word initially makes. He hasn't told me where he's gone to, but I know he must've gone to another hospital. Maybe they have found a treatment for him that does work or maybe he stopped getting treatments completely.
I can't think like that at all, but Will's lack drives me completely crazy!

I have many questions I'd want to ask him, but I whenever I call him he never answers his phone.

I close my eyes and feel how my tears start running over my cheeks even faster.

Is he okay?
Don't kid, Stella. He's fine

Is he even still alive?
Stop it, Stella. You can't think like that.

Is he taking his meds?
Stop, Stella.

Does he even still have meds to take?
Stop! The thoughts echo through my mind, while I tighten my grib on the piece of paper. Life goes on. My life goes on. Will left me to protect me, respect that. I will always love him. I will always miss him.

Does he miss me as much as I miss him?
I roll my eyes and roll his cartoon into a role while listening to my breathing. A breath that sounds normal without all the mucus ...
I miss you, Will.