The Beauty of Living | ON HOLD

05. one month to live

before i lose my mind — etham

—

e l l i o t

THE SAD GIRL placed her head on Elliot's shoulder. Over the past few weeks, they had grown very close. Through Gabriella's mother's death and funeral, through Elliot's breakdowns and moments where he couldn't breathe, they were always there for one another. They were listening to a song together that played softly from Gabriella's phone, and a peaceful atmosphere filled the room.

     "Tell me about your family," Elliot said softly. He knew that running away from something is haunting— you had to face it head on.

Gabriella was silent for a moment, and the boy thought he had made her cry. "My father was never really in the picture. He died when I was little so I don't remember much about him. My mom. . . she showed me photos of him when they were together. He seemed so happy and carefree, I wish I could've had at least one memory with him in it."

"He seemed like a good man," Elliot murmured into her hair. He felt her head nod ever so slightly.

"My mom— she never remarried another man after my dad because she could never get over him," the brown haired girl told him and paused for a moment, "it really affected her, but we were always there for each other. She was always so sentimental and bright, even when Dad passed. I knew it was a façade for me— she always wanted me to be happy. I remember her telling me that whenever she was sad, I was ask if she wanted to play dolls with me. And when my best friend-"

Her sentence stopped abruptly and Elliot heard her sniffle. "Are you okay?" She nodded, muttering an 'I'm fine.' It took her a few moments until she continued.

"My best friend. . . he killed himself on my thirteenth birthday. My mom was there for me; always. She told me it wasn't my fault but I knew it was. I knew he was depressed but I never tried to get him the help he needed," she murmured the last part. Elliot put his index finger and thumb below her chin and gently turned her head to face his.

Tears were brimming her eyes. "It's not your fault. If you could've helped, you would've," Elliot tried reassuring her.

"He seemed so happy, Eli. When I saw the cuts, I just— I broke down," she said through the waterfall of tears. "I-I thought that he was fine since he never talked about it. I never confronted him after that but I knew something was wrong. Why didn't I do anything? It's my fault."

"Gabriella, you were barely thirteen. You couldn't have known any better. You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved," Elliot told her, wiping the tears from her face. The girl placed her head back on his shoulder without another word.

"Does it get any better?" she whispered after a few minutes of just staring at the wall. Elliot wasn't sure how to answer it; he hadn't gotten better over the years.

"Hopefully," he replied. Being like that with Gabriella's head on his shoulder brought a small smile on his face. He didn't know he was capable of caring for someone so much in such a little time of knowing them.

     The silence they both shared wasn't awkward nor deafening. It was a peaceful, comfortable silence that they both let float around the room. Nobody broke the silence for a while as Elliot played with the girl's hair.

"Check up time," Nurse Lindsay said, walking into the room with a small cart that Elliot was so familiar with. Gabriella stood up and walked out the door, giving him a gentle and a wave. He couldn't help but smile at the gesture.

"You seem happier with her around," Lindsay mentioned, causing Elliot's face to turn pink. He averted his eyes away from the nurse and to the wall. "You really do. It's nothing to be ashamed about. I'm glad to see you happier. It's like you have a will to live again."

"A will to live?" Elliot asked the nurse with a breathless laugh, a single breath coming from his nose. He shook his head with a grim expression forming onto his face. "No, I wouldn't say that. I wouldn't mind if I died. I'm sure you know that by now."

"Just a month ago, you were trying to. . . kill yourself, so are you positive about that?" Lindsay told the boy with a serious look on her face. "You wouldn't mind if you lived either, would you?"

Elliot stayed silent the rest of the time while she was checking up on him. Thoughts that centered around Gabriella filled his mind. Never in his life did he really have anybody to live for; his parents were the ones who put him in this hell and he didn't have any friends. But now, with her, had things changed? Elliot didn't know the answer, and he didn't want to either.

     Ten minutes passed by until Lindsay put the materials away. She let out a sigh at the sight of the boy; he seemed so tired— so done with life. Whenever he wasn't around Gabriella, he seemed to fall in the same pit of sadness all over again. Like he had this façade so he wouldn't worry the girl. It pained her that she had to be the one to deliver the news to him.

     "Elliot, there's something I need to talk to you about. . . Your parents already know but they refused to be the ones to tell you," Lindsay told him cautiously and gently, as if he'd break under any harshness directed towards him. Maybe he would.

     The boy with oxygen tubes in his nose looked up from where he was sitting down, looking at the nurse. There was a quick glimpse of pain in his eyes before he covered it up. "What is it? Don't tell me they're going to give me that crap hospital salad again. I couldn't stand that." The comment made them both let out a chuckle.

     "No, it's just. . ." the nurse's voice trailed off, not knowing how to form the right words. Not wanting to hurt the boy more than he already was.

     "What is it, Lindsay?" Elliot prompted her, eyes filled with worry and curiosity. This couldn't be good.

     "If we can't find a cure, you only have one month to live. Doctors around the world are trying to figure it out, but your heart is giving out and your lungs are failing," the woman informed the boy and his eyes widened. "You know your body will reject any new organs, so transplanting isn't an option. We don't know what to do, Elliot, I'm so sorry."

     The information hit the boy hard. He didn't know what to say even though he expected it ever since he was fifteen. He knew that the time would come where Death, the grim reaper, whatever it was called, would come to greet him with his malicious scythe and black robe. He knew that it would be soon, and he was grateful. The raven haired boy was going to die— it's what he'd craved for half of his miserable life.

     So why was he so, so sad? Why did every bone in his body shake violently in denial, why did his head begin to ache so much? He didn't want to die. Lindsay shot him a sympathetic look before walking out of the room to give him space. Alone. Elliot put his head into his hands, tears threatening to slide down his cheeks. Though the hospital room was white and filled with bright, artificial lights, it felt so dark around him. It was like he was slowly drowning— slowly suffocating in an endless abyss.

     He knew death was inevitable, but he didn't want it to come so soon anymore. One month. Thirty days. Forty-three thousand, two hundred minutes. What a short time to live. He laughed bitterly to himself but wiped the salty water from his cheeks. His heart was racing with only one thought playing in his mind over and over again like a broken record.

     He was going to live his life.

—

ok so i'm sad for no reason

qotd: favorite holiday?

aotd: christmas all the way

stay beautiful, stay handsome, stay u ily

— aspen