Page 104 of Lovesick
A headache corkscrewsthe space between my eyes. My tongue is the equivalent of leather, there’s no saliva in my mouth, and the smell of death fouls the air like the pulpy innards of fresh catch on a fisherman’s work-torn hands. Waking up is a mistake. Everything hurts—my eyes, my chest, my legs. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought that someone had shoved me into a human-sized meat grinder. I don’t remember what happened. One second, I was on stage, and the next, I’m hooked up to a billion different machines.
I’m convinced hospitals are some secret monikers for hell. I’ve never liked them. The pessimistic side of me doesn’t see them as some miraculous heralders of life—hospitals are where people go to die.
The beeping in the room is unsettling, as is the stormblowing in on petticoats of passing clouds outside. The only light comes from the moon, and dust motes dance in the shafts projected over the vinyl tiles. When I glance at the IV sticking out of my arm, my stomach shrinks, nauseated despite the lack of food in my system.
The last thing I recall is Crew getting bid on, and then my memory goes black. The fact that I may have lost himandmy father is more painful than whatever party trick my heart decided to pull on the biggest night of my life. Not only did the auction go awry, but now I’m bedbound for who knows how long.
I’m too weak to fully sit up. I let my class down. I let Crew down. I let my parents down. I don’t even want toimaginewhat people are saying about me right now. I just want this whole night to end. It was a disaster from start to finish, and I have nobody to blame but myself.
Crew is my person. I love him so much, and I regret not telling him sooner. I could’ve died. He could’ve gone his whole life without knowing how special he is to me.
I was merely surviving when I met him that night at the bar, going through pre-planned motions with a lackluster appreciation for my fucked-up life. Being with him—beingseenby him—was the first time I considered life worthwhile. He saw me for who I really was, not for the scars I wore or the trauma I carried on the plateau of my shoulders. He reminded me of the beauty in mortality—the warmth of the sun when autumn’s fingers paint hues of fire over the horizon, the softness of dew-spotted grass between my toes, the crispness of air on a cold morning, the capability to feel a spectrum of contradictory emotions within one heart.
I absentmindedly grip a fistful of sheets, wishing it was Crew’s hand.
I’ve been sick since I was born, but lovesickness is a completely different strain. Fatal, in some cases.
Maybe it would’ve been for the best if I’d just kicked the bucket right on stage. No more stress for Crew or my parents. They could finally stop reshaping their lives around a burden.
Tree branches tap against the window, the night sky likening to the color of an overripe berry. The darkness is soothing on my eyes, yet it still exacerbates my loneliness, highlighting an armchair vacant of the only person I want to see.
Suddenly, someone knocks into me with a hug, and if I wasn’t lying down, I’d be thrown off balance by the sheer force. I don’t have to wonder who it is—the smell of bergamot and leather affirms my suspicions.
“Fuck, Merit. I thought I lost you,” Crew whispers against my shoulder, his voice rusted from disuse and served with a complementary side of pain.
The worry in his tone is visceral, and it feels like my heart has been exposed to the elements, sustaining scars that go deeper than muscle—that can’t be mended with synthetic threads.
“You came,” I choke, swearing that the fault line between us was too grand to cross.
His arms tighten around me. “I’ll always come. Even if you never call.”
Tears splash down my cheeks, flushing out all the toxins from the long night. Of course Crew says something so ridiculously sweet that I wilt like an overwatered flower. I pretzel my fists into the back of his button-up; he must’ve abandoned his suit.
“I’m so sorry about everything. I’m so sorry about how my father reacted. He was way out of line, and just because he was hurt doesn’t absolve his behavior,” I babble (somewhat coherently), smushing my face into his neck, refusing to scour the droplets that stain rubicund skin. “Oh, God. And I ruined your auction moment.”
Crew strokes my back, spoon-feeding me murmurs ofreassurance. “It’s okay, baby. It’s not how either of us wanted to come clean. You’re not responsible for your dad’s reaction. He was understandably upset. I think we all regret some things that were said, but right now, what matters most is your health.”
“I’m okay,” I whisper, finding myself sheltered in his arms yet again, fervid longing resuscitated in my belly.
“I can’t…I can’t believe I almostlostyou tonight. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if that happened, and the thought of you never knowing how much I fucking love you is beyond terrifying.”
I look up at him in confusion, and I’m not sure if it’s my jet-lagged thoughts, but I swore he just let the L-word slip. Am I hallucinating right now? I mean, I did hit my head pretty hard when I went down.
Absurdity aside, any fledgling bud of doubt is instantly slaughtered. “Youloveme?”
Crew stamps a kiss to the crown of my head. “More than you could ever possibly know. I’m sorry it took me this long to tell you. I wish it hadn’t. I just…I didn’t want to scare you away, especially since we weren’t publiclytogether.”
A tattered cry emerges from the channel of my throat. “I love you, Crew Calloway. I’ve known it for a long time. I’vefeltit for even longer. I could never leave this world without telling you. I gave you my heart when it was scarred and bloody, and all you wanted to do was hold it in your hands. You never saw the damage—you were never scared by it.”
“Because there’s nothing to be scared of. You’re a survivor, Merit. Not a victim. It’s been my greatest honor to hold your heart in my unworthy hands. I’m always going to be with you, for better or worse. You’re the reason I’ve fallen back in love with life, okay? I never thought it would be possible given my dad’s betrayal, but you healed those fractured parts of me without even trying. And whenever you decide that it’s time tomove on from this life—years into the future when our grandkids are old enough to have kids—there’s no way in hell you’re leaving without me.”
My mouth gnarls into a frown. “You can’t just die when I die.”
“Of course I can. That way we can haunt the new homeowners in the afterlife together.”
I thought I had come to accept my mortality, but I’m not just living for myself anymore. My tears are chilled, hanging from my lashes like powdered snow off an eave, and guilt hisses in the acidic pit of my gut.
“I don’t want to trap you. There’s a chance I might not even live that lo?—”
