To Live Is Just to Fall Asleep

Our lips are numb as we walk, sharing warm alcohol. That kiss tastes like summer. I hope you like the stars I stole for you, one hundred million twinkle lights in neon blue. - The Boy Who Could Fly

*&*

2 days since the accident.

Date: March 15, 2010

Prognosis: 48 hours since the patient slipped into a coma. Vitals remain the same. Stable heartbeat. No further progress.

*&*

Ellis's Point Of View:

Pain. Writhing, excruciating, agonizing pain. It felt as if someone had poured gasoline on every inch of every limb attached to my body, and set it aflame with a match. It felt like a two-ton brick was weighing my chest down, making me unable to move a muscle. With the pressure on my chest came a feeling as if someone was drawing a portrait on my abdomen with a thousand serrated knives, just digging them into me.

I couldn't scream, no matter the amount of agony that coursed through my veins during each passing moment.

My eyelids felt heavy, like someone was forcing them to stay closed. I couldn't open them.

The only thing that I could hear in the outside world was the steady beeping of what sounded like a hospital heart monitor.

Wait, who was in the hospital? What happened? Is that person okay?

I couldn't comprehend a single thing that was surrounding me, but I was positive that something was terribly wrong.

I started to panic, except my body couldn't move. I want to scream, shout, yell, flail my limbs, but my body wouldn't allow me to do any of those things.

Instead, images flooded my vision. Images of people I didn't recognize playing music, jumping around on a stage before a crowd of people. There was music flowing into my eardrums; a sweet, serene acoustic playing along with a soft, high pitched male voice. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard.

As the voice carried on, a scene flooded into my vision.

A man sat on a gray couch, and I quickly knew whose voice it was. The only light that illuminated the room was a small lamp on a coffee table to his left.

His face seemed so familiar, as if I had dreamt of it a million times over. But it was more than a dream, it was real. I knew this man better than anyone. A flash went off in my peripheral vision, and I squinted, straining to see the scenario that played before my eyes. As soon as the light was there, it was gone. And when it left, I was standing in that room there with him.

It was a scene that was all too familiar; because I had lived it once before.

He looked so fragile, broken, abused. Like someone just ran over his pet puppy, if he had one.

And then that's when realization hit me like a freight train.

I knew why he looked so shattered, because just moments before he had knocked on my apartment door, drenched from the rain, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks.

My then best friend had his heart ripped out, but he wouldn't tell me how or why.

As I stood motionless in the room, I blankly stared at the man before me. My thoughts paced back and forth quickly, my mind reeling on explanations on why my mind was taking me back all these years to relive a memory.

"Ellie, can you get me my guitar?" Vic asked in a weak voice from his position on the couch that was displayed in front of me. His voice startled me out of the reverie for long enough to focus on what was actually happening.

"Yeah," I gave a soft smile to my best friend before padding my way into my bedroom to retrieve the acoustic he left at my house, always. It was his spare, because he was always writing music, no matter where he went.

I grabbed the old Epiphone from its perch against my bedroom wall, and made my way back into the living room where Vic sat with a notebook and pen glued in front of his eyes.

His melodious soft tenor hummed from his vocal box as he wiped a stray tear, jotting down lyrics at a mile a minute.

I cleared my throat, standing over him with the guitar in hand.

He looked up at me with those big, endearing brown eyes which were now covered in a gloss caused by an unknown source.

I knew better than to ask him what was wrong at this time. Vic wasn't an open book, or an open person for that matter. He liked to keep his business to himself, and he didn't let anyone see too much emotion from him.

Except for me.

But at times like this, where he was distraught, he didn't want to be bothered. After years of learning so, it became instinct to not ask what was wrong, but rather just be there for him, for company. He would talk about it when he was ready.

Vic took the guitar from my hands gingerly, giving me an irresolute, weak smile. "Thanks, Ell." His voice was defeated, broken.

Cautiously I walked away and into the kitchen, eliciting a heavy sigh as I tried to piece together what could have occurred. The only thing I could possibly think of was Cara, and just last week things had been going great for them.

I didn't ponder too long, knowing that my best friend would tell me sooner or later what was grieving him.

I ran a hand through my long, dark hair as I heard the strumming of the acoustic guitar, Vic's serene voice sounding from the other room.

The song he was playing was unlike anything I had ever heard him play. His songs were always filled with emotion so deep I couldn't begin to fathom, but this was different. As soft as it sounded from the living room, the lyrics were wounded, angry, and frustrated.

"What if I can't forget you? I'll burn your name into my throat..."

The sound halted after a few seconds, presumably so he could write down lyrics or cross some off before the chords picked back up again.

I listened closely while I opened the cupboard, retrieving a couple packets of hot cocoa and a bag of mini marshmallows. I poured the mixture into two cups of milk and popped the mugs into the microwave.

As the microwave heated the cocoa, I grabbed the whipped cream from the fridge, setting it on the counter soundlessly, as to not disturb the haunted mastermind in the living room.

Even though it was July, hot chocolate sounded good to me as I craved the warm liquid that would soon slide down my throat. It was raining outside, the big, fat, cold raindrops you saw in movies like Forest Gump. The streets were flooded, and nothing more than hot cocoa and a blanket sounded appealing at the moment.

The microwave binged, letting me know my concoctions were ready to serve. I retrieved the cups and topped one with a mound of whipped cream and marshmallows. Vic had been out in the rain, and the least I could do was give him something that would heat his core...and give him a cavity or two. I stuck a straw in both cups and lifted them off the counter, bringing them into the living room.

He still sat in the same position, guitar in lap, notebook in hand. He was humming something catchy, tapping his pen on the spiral notebook as he thought of the words to go to his song.

His hair was mussed, damp and sitting in its natural waves that hung to his shoulders, a red snapback cap on the top of his head. He wore a dark grey tee with an Aerosmith logo on it, classic Vic. His bicep muscles that he always had from guitar playing peaked out from beneath his sleeves in an appealing manor.

He looked cold, and I couldn't help but feel sympathetic for whatever was troubling him.

I set my mug of cocoa on the coffee table in front of where I would sit, and handed the other one to Vic, who kindly obliged.

"Thank you Ellie," he said with a sincere smile, taking a gulp before setting it on the corner table next to him.

"You're welcome, Vic," I replied genuinely before grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over his shoulders.

I sat down on the couch, cocoa in hand, trying not to yawn and drift into sleep. It was two in the morning, far beyond my bed time, but I would do anything for this man, simply because he would do the same for me.

I must have sat there for hours it seemed, watching, mesmerized as what came to be an entire song was written.

"Do you want to hear it all?" He asked, his chocolate brown pools not shedding anymore tears.

"Of course I do," It piqued my curiosity, to say the least. Vic was constantly writing...but not an entire song in one sitting.

"Don't be afraid to tell me what you think, okay?" He responded while aligning his fingers on the correct opening chords.

I nodded, acknowledging what he was saying, but knowing that I wouldn't have any harsh criticism to give back because the things he wrote were absolutely beautiful.

He began to play the opening chords, his fingers dancing expertly over the neck of his guitar.

The melody that elicited was enticing, enrapturing; the acoustic chords that he played were unlike any he had ever had me listen to. I knew it was meant to be a heavier song, but the timing and setting was fit for acoustic.

"But there's just something about this dizzy dreamer and her bleeding little blue boy. Licking your fingers like you're done and you've decided there is so much more than me," He sang the words to his new song, the last couple words he sang through clenched teeth, full of emotion. "And baby honestly it's harder breathing next you, I shake. I brought a gun and as the preacher tried to stop me, hold my heart it's beating for you anyway..." He carried on the lyrics, cutting into the chorus and blowing my mind even further with his words.

Vic's work was unlike anything that I had ever seen or heard. He was one of the most talented people I had ever met, his lyrical mind never skipping a beat. He was so in tune with his emotions, feelings, and thoughts that whenever something was troubling him, he put it out on paper, discretely grazing the surface of whatever emotions had erupted from his core. Writing music was Vic's escape, and he did it well. Everything he had shown me came straight from the depths of his heart, baring his soul for the world.

I sat in silence, completely and totally in a deep pit of ensorcellment as he played on. As the last chord sounded, he looked up at me with tear streaked eyes. He wiped away a tear and I immediately threw my arms around his neck.

"Vic, that was incredible. I loved it. Promise me that you will never quit making music?" I tried to lighten the mood as I held my best friend tight in my embrace, not wanting to let go of someone so wounded.

Vic stiffled a small laugh, and I perked up at the sound. "I promise, Ell," I pulled away from him so he could set his guitar down on the ground and gulp down the rest of his hot chocolate. "I don't know how I got so lucky as to have a great friend like you." He beamed at me sincerely, the closest to bliss I had seen him tonight.

"Well, what else am I here for, right?" I smiled boldly back, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders once more. Vic smirked and looked down at his feet, seemingly assessing his thoughts.

I checked the time on my phone. 4:30 AM. Holy shit. I suppressed a yawn, careful not to let Vic know that I was tired.

"Let's go on a walk," Vic spoke suddenly, standing up and motioning for me to join him.

"Are you crazy?!" I giggled. "It's 4:30 in the morning, pouring down rain and you want to go for a walk?" I couldn't help but laugh at his silliness.

"I'm dead serious!" He chuckled, walking into my kitchen. I heard cabinets opening and I hopped off my place on the couch and scampered over to where he was, digging through cupboards to find what he was looking for. "We'll take this, and we will just walk and talk. That's all I want," He held up a full bottle of warm Jameson that he found in my cabinet. I looked at him, my big, weary green eyes wide. "Please?"

I couldn't say no to him, to that face; the puppy dog eyes, the pouty lips. He was like a child that didn't get their way, and I couldn't help but cave in.

"Fine," I sighed, walking over to front door where I retrieved a black zip up hoodie and slipped on a pair of old Converse, Vic following close in step behind me. I grabbed my house key and locked the bottom lock and stepped out into the humid July air.

The rain wasn't coming down as heavy as it had before, but it was definitely still coming down. I pulled my hood over my head as Vic walked beside me down the street of my neighborhood, street lights the only thing aside from the stars and moon that illuminated the night.

I heard Vic open the cap to the liquor as he took a giant gulp and let the lukewarm liquor glide down his throat. He didn't even flinch. He passed it to me, and I gladly obliged; Jameson was my favorite. The tepid liquid slid down my throat, the liquid courage igniting my throat as it burned all the way down. I puckered my lips at the taste, but I was sure it would go away once I had another couple drinks from the bottle.

About twenty minutes of silence passed, both of us handing the liquor back and forth, taking gulps in sizes that we probably shouldn't. At this point, the bottle was about half way gone and I was beginning to feel my share of the damage.

"The song is called Caraphernelia," Vic uttered, breaking the silence that I thought was bound to last this whole 'adventure' we were going on.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying my best to keep my buzz out of my voice.

"Cara and I broke up, Ell," He looked down at his feet before taking a long chug of the liquor and passing it back to me. I take a long sip, absorbing the information he had told me.

Vic was crazy about Cara. You saw it in his eyes always, and I couldn't help but wonder why this had come to be. He told me all the time about how he thought she might be 'the one', and I wanted nothing more for that to happen for him. He deserved it, he was such a great guy. But as this came to surface, I wasn't so sure if I liked the thought of this much grief being inflicted on him if she was the cause.

"Why?" I whispered after a short silence, giving the bottle back to him. He needed it more than I did, certainly. I could feel my feet faltering more and more with every step.

"She cheated on me, and told me earlier today. We got in a huge argument, and she left. She didn't pack up any of her things, and as the day passed, I kept seeing those things and each one reminded me of her. I couldn't take it. That's when I came over." He told me, his voice only revealing the slightest trace of intoxication.

I nodded in understanding, not pressing anything further. He would tell me if need be. "I'm sorry, Vic." I spoke to him genuinely.

He nodded his head, not uttering a word as he took another long chug from the bottle that was now nearing empty. He passed it my way and I took it, taking as long a chug as he had.

Time passed while we walked in silence, neither of us wanting to say anything. Soon we stumbled-literally stumbled, we were quite drunk-into a clearing of grass. Without warning, Vic just plopped to the ground, laying down in the soggy, wet grass and looking up aimlessly at the sky.

I followed suit, too tipsy to even care that I was soaking my clothes. We stared up at the stars, not speaking for quite some time before he broke the silence.

"I'm grateful to have you, Ellie." He slurred, his hands folded on top of his stomach as he peered at the stars. He went to bring the bottle of Jameson back to his lips, only to find it empty. He shook it, shrugged, and chucked it at the ground away from us.

"I'm grateful to have you too, Vic," I smiled, giving a soft chuckle as I watched the bottle land in a patch of grass. He moved closer to me, gazing up at the stars with me and pointing out random ones he thought were constellations in the southern part of the sky. I laughed with him as we put our own stupid names to the clusters of fire, just being happy and relaxed with him at my side.

"You know, Ellie, I stole those stars for you. I stole them because you're such a good person and friend, and you deserve them." Vic slurred as he pointed to the sky, and his words made me laugh. "Don't laugh, it's true!" He drunkenly exclaimed, a hearty chortle embedded in his words. "It's true," He whispered in my ear after a minute, and my body shook with laughter once again. He was so goofy.

"Shut up Vic, you're drunk," I giggled mercilessly.

"So! I still love you. I still think you're beautiful. You're still my best friend. Why can't best friends tell each other things like that when they're drunk?" Vic sat up, giggling as furiously as I was.

"It just doesn't make sense!" I sat up right with him, taking in his features as best I could in the dark, and with altered vision. His wavy brown hair hung loosely to his shoulders, his brown, glossy eyes stared at me so hard I felt self conscious, his attractive facial features. As I looked into his eyes, I saw more than a friend, I saw what he meant for some strange reason.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but maybe it was what I had felt all along.

"I think it makes sense," He shrugged his shoulders, his big brown eyes peering into my soul for what seemed like hours. "And I think I can show you how." His eyes traced every contour of my face, seeming as if he were embedding it into his memory, breathing me in.

In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to kiss him; to show him that I loved him, despite what his exgirlfriend did to him; that I cared about him more than anyone on this planet possibly could; that I had been in love with him this entire time.

As he slowly leaned in to meet my lips with his, he lifted his hand to caress my cheek. I leaned into the touch, smiling and savoring the moment. When his mouth collided with mine, I saw what he meant. I saw all the stars that he had stolen for me, for being there for him. The twinkling blue lights erupted in my head as my lips moved in perfect synchronization with Vic's, and I never wanted the moment to end. The sun rose above us slowly, illuminating the sky and taking over the night, but we remained seated, our hands tangled in each others hair, the taste of warm alcohol and summer present in our kiss. The taste of our summer. And I never wanted to let it go.