I always sat next to his hospital bed, day after day after insufferable day. He never moved.
He couldn't move.
That dumb delivery truck had paralyzed him from the shoulders down. It was terrible, knowing I couldn't hug him properly anymore. It hurt.
The doctors said he didn't have long to live. One of his lungs had been punctured, his rib cage broken, and he had severe heart damage.
And all from a damn car crash.
But he still had the ability to love me, out of all things lost. And even though this was predicted to be his last day, I would give him as much love as possible.
"S-Stan?" I walked into his room, kissing his cheek quickly.
"Kyle? Why are..."
"I'm here because I love you." I said. Every time he spoke it sounded like a car with a frozen engine.
NO. Not a car.
Stan tried his best to raise an arm. I grabbed his hand and gave him another peck on the knuckle.
"You are my everything. You are what wakes me up in the morning, even if you're not beside me. Just the thought of you makes me elated. And when we had sex for the first time, it shook the whole state of Colorado." I spoke through the tears rolling over my cheeks.
"Kyle, I love you too. A-and you don't have to do this just because I'm gonna die..." He started.
"No! You won't die...you won't..."
"You're not God. There's nothing you can do." He looked down at our linked hands with watery eyes.
"I'm not ready for you to die!" I yelled, my free hand wiping away the sweat on my forehead.
"Well, I don't want to die, but I don't have a choice. I just want you to be ready, instead of being suicidal or some shit..." He muttered.
"I-I'm scared."
Stan smiled. "I love you. That's the only memory you need of me. Love."
We stayed in silence for about 2 minutes, crying and holding hands. Then Stan slowly twisted his head, giving me a painful grin.
"I love you Kyle."
"I love you too." I said, my eyes red from the tears.
I felt his hand let go of mine. His blue eyes stayed open, lifeless and pale.
The beeping stopped. A doctor came in and told me he had died of a heart attack. I nodded and felt a small tear form on my eyelid as I walked out.
It was hard to stop getting dressed to go to the hospital, reminding myself that nothing would be waiting for me.
My mom was my biggest supporter, giving me little talks every day, hugging me when I was down, even volunteering to get me therapy.
But I refused. I layed around the house all day, my blinds closed, letting no light shine through.
I visited Stan's grave once every week, and eventually moved on with a girl I'd met on a dating site.
Life is terrible at times. They take away the one you love most, leaving you with sadness. Then they make you feel bad for deciding to let go.
But I was satisfied. I never forgot Stan. Even though he was dead on the outside, he remained immortal in my heart.
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