Living in Non-Existence

Ch.11 We're Awake

"Hey there, sleepyhead," I heard Marc's groggy voice close to me.

I'm sure I looked like a mess. My face a puzzle of bed cover face, smeared black makeup, and kaleidoscope of bruises from the impact of the crash.

My eyes opened slowly, stretching my body like a cat. No matter how padded those seats are, when you're doubled over, knees crossed, arms extended, there is no way to wake up without sharp shooting pain from the neck to the toes.

The mascara matted my eyelashes together. Opening them was a struggle no one needs to experience in their life. Unfortunately, I had to.

Like a lion leaping into action my nerves woke up. My eyes bulged open, my ears popped, my lips practically peeled themselves apart as a gasp of air rushed into my lungs. My hands immediately clamped onto Marc's just a little harder, something I instantly regretted when we both winced.

"You're awake!" I pretty much leaped out of my seat to lock lips with him.

"Ow," we said in unison laughing roughly.

Marc was awake. His eyes looked at me like I looked at the universe, with infinite amazement at the beauty that could be captured. Marc was alive. He was breathing on his own, sure he still had needles in him but that was the least to worry about. Marc was alive. He was smiling and laughing like the goofball that he is. Marc was alive. I kept repeating that in my head thinking that as soon as I stopped, reality would hit me and he'd still be asleep or in surgery and I'd be sitting on that mud free floor crying in a ring of silky green.

"You know, it really is amazing how you sleep like a rock," he smiled up at me, our eyes joined like a promise.

My eyebrows scrunched together, I could sleep like a giant or like a little mouse scared at every noise. But this time I definitely thought I was the mouse.

"I woke up a couple hours ago and I look at my hand and there you are, as beautiful as ever, completely passed out next to my leg."

Oh, no, I thought. He had seen me in a mess of black, a tangle of brown, a disaster of green. Yet, he didn't seem to think the same of it as me. Where I saw a mess, he saw a beautiful statue of passion and loyalty.

My eyes welled with tears looking at him. Marc was alive, saved from the brink of the great darkness that encompasses our deepest fears. Maybe I was being too dramatic, after all, the shot was to the shoulder. None of that mattered, he was here.

Marc's fingers laced with mine, winding over and over again like we were one hand. "Hey, hey, come here," he said patting the space next to him. I sat down carefully before he dragged me down.

My head was on his unhurt shoulder, my eyes looked directly at his, our bodies so close that I could feel the heat emanating from him and he could feel the shivers radiating through mine.

"You're absolutely beautiful, you know that?" I smiled softly. A hand extending instinctively to touch Marc's face, something I had done so many times; traced every pattern of his face. The slight dimple in his cheek as he smiled, the indentations between his cheekbones and his cheeks, the curves of his lips, his strong jaw, then all the way up to his eyes.

"My parents left to go home for a bit. We talked for a good long while when you were passed out," he winked. "So now I'm going to tell you one last thing so that after this you can stop crying for me. You can stop being sad. Okay?" I nodded my head seriously, dropping my hand to his chest.

"When the doctors say that everyone is fighting for something or someone during their surgery, they're right. I was fighting for you. I have been fighting for you since I first saw you," he paused, "on that pavement, all that rushed into my head was you, not the pain, not the sadness, not the terror. Just you. How you must have been feeling.

You are like my own personal rose, a reminder of the vibrancy and strength of a single being. At that moment I felt you wilting. I felt you give in to the temptation of just accepting fate, like you too would die if I did. But look at you, as beautiful as ever and here with me.

During that surgery I couldn't feel any of the needles, the scissors, the stitches. Nothing. But I felt my heart beat, I knew you were there. I knew that when I woke up, I could touch you again. I knew that our eyes would burn like a forest fire and that our mouths could once again merge into a symphony of voices."

My breathing labored listening to him speak, nothing could compare to a poet and his speech. I figured it was the morphine coursing through his veins but I cared the least, as every rise and fall of his voice made my skin tingle.

"You, Antoinette Nathan are my salvation and I am eternally grateful." He finished slowly.

I tried to form any sort of expression as my brain clouded over. Suddenly, twenty-six letters could form no words. The infinite possibilities disappeared from memory.

"I love you," I said before completely understanding  the gravity of those three words. Those eight letters. "I know we haven't known each other for that long but I love you nonetheless," I said finally.