snapshot •josh dun

twenty five

Her pale body stared back at him in that damn bed. Everything smelt of rubbing alcohol, and he wanted her smell of orchids and cinnamon back.

"Abigail." Josh said, in shock. She was sleeping, stitched up and teary eyed. It was the first time Josh had seen her in three days. It almost didn't look like her. The only indication it was his sun beam was the small semicolon on her ankle.

Intertwined hands made their way to Josh's chapped lips. They were undeniably cold. Josh just wanted Abigail to wake up, but he also knew she needed rest.

Dawn sunshine shone its way through the blinds, reflecting itself on a plastic house plant in the corner. Josh rustled his blonde hair and he wished she was up so he could make her a cup of tea and laugh as she tried to count his freckles.

But it didn't matter. She was alive.