I wrapped my arms around him, never wanting to let go because I knew deep down that I'd never see him again. I knew that the next time I saw him in person, he'd be a different man. Probably with a beautiful girlfriend or boyfriend...someone who wasn't me. And I wasn't capable of admitting that yes, I was disappointed.
Edd looked at me and said, "I can't believe Tord is leaving."
"Yes, Edd," he replied somewhat sullenly, "I have to follow my dream and make it in the big city."
I heard Tom say something along the lines of, "Fine by me."
Then he was walking to his car and saying farewell to us, his friends, Tom giving him a final jab by saying he wasn't his friend. I stared, my mind seemingly in his car trunk getting ready to leave the house with him.
I never gave him the flowers: they were right there on my dresser, wilting slowly like all my dreams of being with him. His red car became a little dot on the horizon and that was it: he was gone, and with him went all my hope. I sighed breathily, trying to determine what I was supposed to do now that it really happened.
That afternoon, I took one rose and set it by my window to dry, the letter attached to its thorny stem. I wasn't sure what to do with the other eleven, so they remained where they were for the time being.
I texted him the day after to make sure he was okay and he replied within the next few hours. By the end of the first week, he was replying less and less frequently and I noticed that the distance between us was already too big. And then he just didn't reply. Why would he stop texting me just like that? He'd only been gone for two weeks when he mysteriously stopped saying anything. Was he fine? We're things going well? It was as the next one explanation came to me that I began to panic. Was I...bothering him? And why was that a scarier prospect than all others? It made sense: I'm pretty, but what did that matter when he couldn't see me? I must've been boring him or seeming clingy, droning on and on about absolute bollocks. No wonder the replies ceased.
A few days passed before a pain started up in my chest. I told myself it was because I wasn't eating my meals on time and that it would go away as soon as I regained some amount of order. This was not the case: instead, I began to cough. It was maybe five days into my mysterious affliction when the idea that I was probably sick entered my mind.
"I think I have the cold," I said to Edd as he tended to a pot of daisies. It was summer and the colorful flowers were in season.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Maybe I should start taking it easy just in case."
"Perhaps. Don't stress yourself out, alright?"
"I won't. You're really turning this place into a green house, aren't you?"
He laughed airily and smiled at me. "I like flowers. They're like my kids, Matt."
I shrugged and took a whiff of a peony he had on the counter. "I guess that makes me a real creep, sniffing up all of your children." He playfully punched my shoulder, chuckling loudly.
I liked Edd's flowers, though. That day, I starting helping him take care of them, too. Tom thought we were crazy, especially Edd, who would talk to the plants sometimes as if they could reply.
A few more days passed as my condition worsened considerably. The first sign something was really off, though, was the day my lungs started up a fit while I was in my room and I had to put a tissue to my mouth as I coughed violently. It's a notable cause for concern when you hack up blood, correct? Well, I can do you one better because I also managed to produce a red flower petal. I knew for sure I hadn't had that before, so where did it come from? Was my sudden love for flowers causing me to inhale petals? This made not a lick of sense. Then I heard Edd yelling through the door to make sure I was alright and I had to lie through my teeth. I was going to buy a cough suppressant the next day and stay at home to recover: maybe I was just in dire need of some rest.
Edd made soup for me the following day and checked on me from time to time, taking my temperature and trying to keep me comfortable. I was incredibly thankful for the company. However, the pain in my chest was increasing in intensity. I wanted Tord to come over and make me laugh and tell me everything would be fine...it was a terribly foolish thought. He wasn't there, but what did it matter when I had Edd, right?
...Right?
"How do I look?" I asked emerald eyes as he sat on the edge of my bed.
He chuckled dryly and remarked, "You look sick."
"But still gorgeous, right?"
A warm blush spread across his cheeks as he beamed at me and brushed the hair from my forehead in a maternal fashion. "Of course."
My confidence had been waning and even that small bit of reassurance boosted my mood. "I feel pretty shitty," I admitted. It was honesty on more levels than one.
"Don't worry; it'll get better." He peered into my very soul at that moment and I wasn't sure how I felt about such nakedness. Then, he added, "I'll make sure of it." A smile I didn't know I had in me arose from nothingness. He made me believe this was only a small bump in the road that would shrink and I'd improve.
But first, I had to get way, way worse.
A/N: I used a slightly different variation of the scene of Tord leaving, without the memory eraser gun, obviously.
