Six Feet Underground

I counted the dots on the ceiling. Yeah, being up and 3 am doesn't do someone much good. The doctors tell me that I had been in a coma for 'bout six years now. I'm still trying to grasp that. Six years?

They explained what a coma was to me, that a person is basically sleeping for a very long time. Sometimes they can hear and feel. Your body doesn't age a day, maybe just a tiny bit, but not very much.

They tell me stories sometimes. Always about this guy who would come in to see me everyday, sometimes even staying for days at a time. He was sweet, kind, and had this sorrow aura that seemed to always be generating off of him. He was quiet. Always silent. Always telling me that he loved me and that everything was going to be getting better soon.
But there came a time when he started to slowly stop coming to see me. He started to have shorter visits.

Sometimes he would bring a girl in with him. They told me she was pretty. Then, he stopped coming fully.

He stopped coming because he had someone else. They wouldn't tell who this someone else was, but I knew that if they did tell me, it would hurt.

So laying in the hospital bed, just staring at the oh so pretty ceiling, gave me an idea. I slowly pulled the covers back from the bed and got out of the warm sheets. Instantly, I felt an unpleasant breeze in a certain area that doesn't normally get breezes, if you know what I mean.

I don't understand why they make you wear thease damn dress things.. and whats worse is that in the back, it's all open and stuff. Only a string holds it on you. I wouldn't feel so awkward if I was allowed to wear underwear and a bra, but no.

So, walking slowly over to this small boom box I was alowed to have in my room, I turned it on and began to walk back to my bed. I hold the back of my 'dress', the damn 'breeze' was blowing again. Where the hell was this breeze coming from?

I looked around my room, searching for that damn source of the wind. Finding nothing that would supplie air to move, I shrugged and climbed back into my bed. I closed my eyes and just sighed. I would have to do tests tomorrow.

I was told I had memory loss. I believed them. I keep having this dream. It's like a thrid person dream. I see myself and this guy, he's really hott too, at this cafe. We're laughing and I keep blushing when ever we get close. Then it cuts off and changes to a bedroom. It's covered in posters and art. I'm sitting on a bed, next to the guy again. He's smiling at me, moving closer and closer. Then we kiss. It's like I can feel him actually kiss me as I watch. The kiss seems to progress and he pushes me back on the bed. He's now on top of me. We're still making out heatedly.

Then it changes to a first person thing. I'm looking at the stars. Giggling as he tickles me. His hair falls in his face as he straddles me. His glasses slid slowly down his nose. I reach up and push them back up for him. He smiles and slowly leans down to kiss me. I close my eyes. His lips touch mine ever so softly, the taste lingers much longer after the small kiss. Skittles and coffee.

My eyes stay closed as I feel his hand hold mine, entertwining with my fingers. "I love you," he wispers.

I don't say anything, knowing that he's leaning down, about to kiss me again.
But when he does this time, it feels way to real. I can actually taste him fully this time, his lips remain on mine longer. I try to kiss back, but I just can't. I'm paralized.
The kiss is broken, the taste lingers. I can smell him greatly now.
"I love you," I wisper.
"I love you too," then his voice fades.

Dead silence for a second. Then his coice returns. More and more urgent as the seconds pass.

"Frank?" he calls. "Frank!? FRANK!"

I'm being shaken. I groan and slowly open my eyes. He was hovering over me. He was the guy from my dream.

He lent down and kissed me, inocently. Pulling away he smiled. "How you doing?"

"Good?" I asked. "Who are you? You look so fimiliar but I can't put my finger on it."

"Mikey. I'm your best friend. You used to.... love me." he wispered, as if he wasn't allowed to speak any louder.

Then it clicked. Mikey. My boyfriend. They guy I love. The guy who saved me. "Thanks," I muttered, knowing he knew what I was talking about.

"No problem. I'm sorry that I didn't come to visit as much. I've been haveing... distractions in my life."

"I understand. I'm just glad your here!"

I hugged him tightly and sobbed into his shoulder, slightly scared about what might happen. I don't know why I was. I just had this horrible feeling deep down that something wasn't right.

But that feeling disappeared as Mikey pulled away from me and slowly brought his lips to meet mine. The kiss was sweet. Tasting like skittles and coffee. I deepened the kiss by pulling him closer. He brought his hand up to my cheek, resting it there and letting his other slid down my side and stop on my protruding hip bone.

Mikey broke away and moved to sit on my bed, hands still on my hips. I moved so I was sitting crosslegged to make room for him on the bed. He leaned back in and kissed my lips softly. Not more that a few seconds later, his tounge slipped into my mouth. I slipped mine into his and our tounges danced as one. I moved my hands from around his neak to rest on his knees, deepening the kiss even further.

It was the best feeling in the world. I loved feeling like this. Like someone actually cared for me. But there was this doubt under the surface. Telling me to stop because I was wrong. The voice wouldn't tell me why. I knew that it wasn't wrong to kiss guys. But there was still the doubt, urging me to stop and never do that again.

I pushed it aside and enjoyed this moment with Mikey. He was a great kisser. No, not great. Spectacular. He made my stomache flutter. My legs feel week and made me want him so badly.

But our kiss was short lived as the door burst open and forced us to stop kissing in shock.