My sister called me late this evening while she was in Australia with the family. She wanted to check in on me after I shared what had happened. It was touching that she thought she could help, but honestly, I could use more than just a quick chat about world hunger right now. I need to focus on what's ahead.
Sitting on the windowsill of my and Minho's bedroom, I took a moment for myself, smoking a cigarette and feeling my phone buzz in my pocket. It was Hannah. A part of me wanted to let it ring, to ignore it, but something urged me to answer. After all, I couldn't avoid conversation forever, could I?
"Hey Chris...how're you holding up?" Her voice was gentle, a tone I hadn’t expected given our usual banter.
"How, do you expect?" I replied, taking another drag and blowing the smoke out into the cool evening air. "Anyone could guess that I'm not exactly thriving right now..."
"I get that. But aside from that... it's tough, what happened to him? But working yourself into a corner isn’t the answer. Have you thought about talking to a therapist?" she suggested. I chuckled, but it felt more like a defensive mechanism.
"As if I can afford that. Ramen's my best friend these days. You really think therapy is in the cards for me? Come on, Hannah, you’ve got to grasp reality here..." I said, trying to lighten the mood.
"I'm just trying to make sure you're okay," she insisted, concern lacing her words.
"Well, I’m not, is that clear enough?” I snapped back.
“Oh my god, why are you acting like I caused this? I didn’t want this any more than you did, Chris! Don’t take it out on me..." Her voice rose in frustration before she hung up, leaving the silence of the room to swallow me whole once again.
I've been doing nothing but pushing everyone away lately. Conversations with friends and family often turn into arguments, all while my mind clings to thoughts of Minho. I care about him getting better more than anyone else’s empty reassurances.
I hadn't visited the hospital in a few days, feeling like each passing moment was a countdown. His once vibrant self feels so far away, yet I know I’ll have to face it eventually. Maybe one day I’ll muster the courage. Right now, I’m fragile, battling an uncertainty that seems too heavy to bear.
Outside, the world was beautiful. The sun was setting, casting a vibrant orange hue across the sky, while birds danced among the clouds above the stunning greenery. Minho always loved being outside, relishing the beauty of nature. We chose a house in the countryside for its charm, and even now, I can’t help but think how much he would adore this scene. The thought pulls me both forward and back.
Just a few days before everything changed, I remember him excitedly pointing out the birds.
“Channie hyung! Look at the birds outside, see, that one on the tree... that's a Jay!” His voice was full of joy as he pointed. I smiled back at him.
"I love Jays; they’re so perfect, and they make the funniest sounds.”
I wrapped my arms around him from behind, planting a kiss on his head. "You're more perfect than any bird..." I murmured, his warmth mingling with the evening air.
“I love you, Chris.”
“I love you too, baby boy.”
Now those memories feel both beautiful and distant, like a treasure I can't access. The house, so quiet and empty without him, highlights the paradox of our situation. I can’t help but ponder the future: if he wakes up, what will it look like? How will we rebuild life together? The thought of him being gone is unbearable, but amidst the darkness, I know I need to hold onto hope. I need him to wake up because both our futures depend on it.
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