Soulmate (Cameron Dallas/ Nash Grier/ Matthew Espinosa/ Hayes Grier)

Chapter 94

Almost at 400k!! That's insane, honestly. 6 more chapters to goooo!
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Nash's POV

My phone drops to the floor at a rate equivalent to that of my heart. My fingers shake from my knuckles to the very tips as I struggle to grasp on to reality. My vision fails me, blurring beds into coffins and pillows into dead flowers. I feel pressure on my shoulder, and I see his piercing, blue eyes through the smog that clouds my reeling mind. His lips are moving, eyes widening frantically, though the only sound I hear is the high pitched noise of a flat line. It echoes through my mind, pounding against my skull, desperate to break free. So it does.

It flows through my dusty tear ducts and down onto my reddened cheeks. My limbs give out, and I collapse onto the floor in agony. My brother is paralyzed in fear, knowing that the last time he saw me like this was when I had come home from burying Charlie. And then it hits him. He reluctantly picks up the phone, and every single feature that could ever possibly hold an emotion that resembles joy, that resembles hope, vanishes. He joins me on the floor, wrapping his arms around my broad shoulders the best he can, until my bicep is as wet as my cheeks. And we sit there for a while, our minds trying to conjure up every single memory of her that we could muster.

There are a lot of them. The face she had in the storage closet that night, one of pure wonder and confusion. Her hair messily falling onto her thick rimmed glasses as she woke up in San Francisco one day, a yawn emitting from her beautiful, blush lips as her doe eyes crinkled tiredly. The look she gave me as she sang to me one night, Shawn accompanying her in the background. It was a look of complete and utter infatuation, a look that only she has given me my entire life. But now, oh now, all I see is red stained carpets and chestnut curls covering her pale face. All I see is another grave next to Charlie's in the "anyone who has ever gotten close to Nash" section of the graveyard. All I see is the flat line of the monitor, and me breaking down at her bedside.

I stand up immediately, my brother looking up at me from below, and walk out of the room without a word. My mom catches me in the hallway, grabbing onto my shirt in an attempt to stop me. It doesn't work. Skylynn is sitting on the couch, and she looks at me as if I've stripped away all of her childhood innocence just with my current state. And so I freeze, letting her take me in, letting her process in her beautiful, naive mind that this is the real fucking world. People die, a lot of them, and one day it's bound to be someone you love. I walk out of the door, my heart splitting open further and further every time her small voice utters my name.

The airport is busy. It's as if someone put out an alert that a broken boy would be coming to get the next flight out of here to see his broken girl, which would obviously be somewhat impossible, yet he doesn't really give a flying fuck so please get the fuck out of his way, and everyone just won't get out of his fucking way, so inevitably he starts pushing through which apparently isn't okay even if the love of your life is potentially dying but who could've known that. And it ends up being resolved by his brother pulling the bipolar card which somehow resonates with the security guard that pulled him aside, and by some twisted fate, he makes it on a plane. But of course his brother is halfway across the plane, the only person who knows what he's going through, so he's forced to talk to himself because he knows that if he dare falls asleep... I'm not falling asleep.

I almost wish the plane didn't land. I almost wish that it experienced a horrific crash in which everyone else was amazingly fine and I didn't make it. I don't want to make it. I wait until every single person leaves the plane, and I see Hayes has done the same thing up ahead. Walking through the aisle, everything seems like it's moving in slow motion. I feel a bit dizzy, and at one point I trip over myself and hold onto the seat for support. The attendant asks me if I had too much to drink. I wish I had.