—Amanda's POV
…
"I'm gonna go after them." I remembered Cael spoke those words as he left.
Thud Thud Thud Thud
His steps sounded very heavy and quick as he left the door.
…
Beep
Glance
…
Old Man Randy—No.
Grandpa was still in the bed. His body completely still, his mind still unconsciousness. He wasn't moving.
The only thing being…
Beep
…
COPD.
…
I didn't really get what it meant.
But.
According to the doctor…
If Grandpa was a tree—
Then his leaves were withering
…
"Why—Why should this happen-?" My voice cracked.
I wanted to ask doctor. No—
Anyone.
Why-
Why did a person have to get sick just because they were old? Why couldn't someone who had spent so much of his life helping other people just… stay healthy?
Wasn't that fair?
…
No.
Of course it wasn't.
Life is never fair.
It's never fair
But knowing something and accepting it were two entirely different things.
And right now, I couldn't accept it.
…
I looked at Grandpa again. His face looked different.
Nothing was wrong with it. His eyes were closed, his mouth was slightly open, and his chest rose and fell beneath the blanket.
Like he was just taking a na[
A really, really long nap.
The kind where you'd have to shake him a few times before he finally woke up and grumbled at you.
…
"Grandpa?"
…
Beep.
…
Nothing.
…
…
I hated the machines. I hated the smell of the hospital. I hated how the doctors spoke in careful voices, as if every word had to be measured before they could let it out of their mouths. Most of all, I hated how everyone seemed to know what was happening except me.
They knew what COPD was.
They knew what the medications did, what the machines monitored, and what they needed to look out for.
And I?
I could only sit here and look at him.
Gripppp
…
I couldn't help but curl my fingers around the edge of the chair—What was I supposed to do?
I wasn't a doctor.
I wasn't a researcher.
I wasn't even good at comforting people.
Hell, I barely knew how to take care of myself sometimes.
And yet…
…
"Grandpa…"
My voice came out quieter this time.
"I don't get it."
…
I remembered the way he used to walk.
Slowly, sometimes. With that familiar, slightly hunched posture of his, and the occasional pause when he needed to catch his breath.
I remembered him coughing and waving his hand dismissively when someone asked if he was all right.
I'm fine, kid.
That's what he always said.
Just an old man getting old.
And we'd let him get away with it. Because it was Randy. Because he was always there.
Because, somehow, the old man who complained about everything was the most reliable person in the team
…
Maybe I should have noticed sooner.
Maybe I should have asked more questions.
Maybe I should have—
…
No.
…
No.
Not now.
Evelyn was breaking.
So was Jeremy.
I'm sure Cael is too.
…
Everybody was suffering.
Tremble Tremble
…
My shoulders began to tremble as I pressed both hands against my face.
For a moment, I thought I might cry.
Really cry.
The kind where you couldn't breathe properly, where your face became a mess, where you couldn't even explain what was wrong because everything was wrong.
…
Yet—
But nothing came out.
I just sat there, hands covering my face, feeling something heavy pressing against my chest.
It was awful.
I almost wished I could cry.
At least then, perhaps, I'd feel like I was doing something. But no—I was stuck here, unable to change anything, unable even to make myself feel better.
…
"I'm scared…"
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
I immediately looked toward the door.
Nobody was there.
Of course nobody was there.
Cael had gone after Evelyn and Jeremy. The others had their own problems. Everyone was hurting in their own way.
And I didn't want to be another problem for them.
…
So I swallowed.
I wiped my face, even though there weren't any tears.
And I looked at Grandpa again.
…
He was still there.
That was the thing, wasn't it?
He was still here.
His body was sick. His lungs were damaged. His hands trembled, and he might not be able to walk as well as he used to.
But he was still here.
He hadn't disappeared.
He hadn't left.
Not yet.
…
I stared at his hand resting on the blanket.
It looked so small.
Or perhaps I'd simply never noticed how small it was before.
I slowly reached out and placed my hand over his.
His skin was warm.
…
Warm.
…
I let out a shaky breath.
"Grandpa…"
I squeezed his hand gently.
"You'd better wake up."
…
It was a stupid thing to say.
I knew it was stupid.
He couldn't hear me. Or maybe he could; I didn't know.
But I wanted to say it anyway.
"You still owe me."
…
Haha.
A laugh escaped me.
It sounded horrible.
I couldn't even remember what he owed me.
…
"You can't just sleep here forever, you know."
I rubbed my eyes.
"You've got a house to go back to. You've got things to do. And you've got…"
My voice faltered.
…
You've got us.
…
I couldn't finish the sentence.
…
What could someone like me even do-?
Grippppp
…
…
"Tsk. I'm not dead yet kid." A Hoarse voice answered me.
—Randy's POV
…
What a racket.
…
No, seriously.
What in the bloody hell was all that noise?
…
I tried opening my eyes.
Didn't work.
Tried again.
…
Slowly.
…
There we go, the very first thing I noticed? A white ceiling.
Great.
…
Was I dead?
…
I gave that thought a moment.
No gates. No angels. No welcoming committee.
Just a headache, a dry throat, and a persistent beeping noise that was beginning to piss me off.
…
Guess not.
…
I tried moving my arm.
…
Nothing.
…
I tried harder.
…
Twitch.
…
Ah.
There we go.
Tsk.
Even moving my arms needs this much effort-?
…
…
I'll try to move my head.
…
…
Bloody Hell
After a moment of trying…
…
Finally.
And the very first one I noticed?
Amanda.
The muscle monster.
Yeah.
That's what we called her.
She looked...
"Grandpa…"
The fuck?
She was gripping my hand rather…
"You'd better wake up."
"You still owe me."
"You can't just sleep here forever, you know."
I rubbed my eyes.
"You've got a house to go back to. You've got things to do. And you've got…"
…
This kid-?
…
"Tsk. I'm not dead yet kid."
"G-g-grandpa-?"
…
At this point—I didn't even bother correcting her
"G-g-grandpa-?" She spoke again.
…
"What's with that face, kid?"
…
Drip
Bloody hell.
Did I said something wrong?
…
"Oi, stop that. I'm right here, aren't I?"
…
"Y-You were—You were…"
…
She couldn't even finish her sentence before it turned to a gurgle of words
…
I sighed or at least, I tried to.
My chest hurts.
…
Cough Cough
…
Fuck
…
That wasn't good—I knew that much.
…
Amanda immediately leaned closer.
"Grandpa?! Are you okay?! Do you need a doctor?!"
…
"Easy Kid I'm not kicking the bucket just yet!"
…
I raised my hand.
…
Or tried to.
…
Tremble.
…
My fingers wouldn't stay still.
…
I stared at them for a moment.
…
Ah.
Right.
…
I knew about this.
Of course I did.
The trembling hadn't started yesterday. Neither had the coughing, nor the shortness of breath, nor the occasional mornings when getting out of bed felt like an entire day's work.
I'd noticed.
I'd always noticed.
It's my own body after all
…
I just didn't wanted to think about it.
…
"Grandpa?"
…
I looked back at Amanda. She was staring at my hand.
…
Great
…
"Don't look at me like that, kid. It's just an old man's hand."
…
"But—"
Beep
"An old man's hand."
I repeated it a little more firmly.
She went quiet.
…
Good.
…
Except it wasn't good, was it?
…
I looked away.
…
Old man.
…
I'd used those words for years.
A convenient excuse for every ache, every complaint, every time my body failed to cooperate. It had always been a joke. Something to laugh about. Something that made the younger ones roll their eyes.
…
But jokes had a funny way of becoming less amusing when they stopped being jokes.
…
"Grandpa?"
…
"Hm?"
…
"Are you scared?"
…
…
What a question.
…
I almost laughed.
Almost.
…
"Scared of what?"
…
She hesitated yet her eyes betrayed her body as she looked at my hand again.
…
Ah.
…
I didn't answer immediately.
…
Was I scared?
…
Of course I was.
I was scared of waking up one morning and I couldn't get out of bed.
Scared of needing someone to help me with things I'd done by myself for decades.
Scared of becoming the sort of old man who couldn't even walk to the kitchen without worrying about whether he'd make it back.
…
And, perhaps most of all—No. Not now
…
"Yeah," I finally answered.
…
Amanda looked up.
…
"I'm scared."
…
The words felt strange coming out of my mouth.
I'd spent so long telling people I was fine that I'd almost forgotten how to say anything else.
…
"But I'm still here, kid."
…
I looked at her.
…
"So let's deal with tomorrow when tomorrow comes."
…
She stared at me for a moment. Then she nodded.
…
"Okay."
…
A small answer.
But it was enough.
…
For now.
…
We sat quietly for a while. The only sound being the machines continous its constant beeping, and somewhere outside the room, footsteps passed through the corridor.
…
Then Amanda spoke again.
…
"Grandpa?"
"What now?"
…
"Can I stay with you?"
…
Blink
…
"Stay with me?"
…
"After you leave the hospital."
…
…
Ah.
…
Stareeee
…
"You mean my house?"
Nod Nod
…
"Why?"
…
She looked down at her hands.
…
"Because…"
…
Her voice grew quieter.
…
"Because I don't want you to be alone."
…
…
Bloody hell.
…
I wanted to tell her no. Of course I did.
She had her own life. Her own future. She shouldn't have to spend it worrying about an old man whose body was gradually giving up on him.
…
"You don't need to do that, kid." I paused for a moment"I'll be fine."
"But—"
*"*Tsk. Don't waste your time on an old man."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Nothing.
…
Tsk.
What was I supposed to say?
…
Kids like her are the most stubborn.
Contrary to my expectations however—She didn't forced me to answer. She just sat there. Hand still wrapped around mine. Waiting. The machines beeped. The rain tapped against the window. Somewhere down the corridor, footsteps passed and faded.
Silence
…
And the silence stretched far and long.
…
Beep
Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip
Kshhhhhhhhhhhh
The rain had gotten louder
Booommmmmmmm
Beep
Who knew how much time had past.
…
"Amanda."
"Y-y-yeah?—Wait."
Silence
"You called me Amanda-?"
"Tsk. It's nothing special, just your name."
…
Step Step Step
Footsteps.
"Someones coming."
Step Step Step
"Wha—" And before Amanda could finish speaking…
Creakkkkk
"Ah."
"Heh. I was wondering where you lots went."
"Can't even look at your Old Man in the eyes?"
A Joke, it was intended to be one, The bratty team leader would usually snap back, Little Evelyn would laugh as The skinny one would give a long sigh. Yet—
"…"
Silence
…
Well this just got awkward.
…
"Scheisse. I just got fucked by a stupid Swingfire in War Thunder" The bratty team leader spoke, trying to change the topic.
"…"
Also to no avail.
…
The atmosphere felt even more awkward, nobody knew what to speak of.
"I"
…
Tsk.
What a bunch of idiots.
…
I couldn't help but glance at Amanda. She was still holding my hand. Then at little Evelyn. Then at the bratty team leader Jeremy.
…
And finally the skinny brat
…
Bloody hell.
…
"Oi."
…
Silence
Nobody answered.
…
"I'm not dead yet, you know."
…
This time, I wasn't joking. Perhaps at that moment it was the most sincere I had ever been in a while
…
"...So quit looking at me like I've already kicked the bucket."
…
Silence.
…
Beep
…
Squeeezeeee
Amanda squeezed my hands once more
…
Tsk.
What a troublesome bunch.
…
Still.
…
Well…
It wasn't so bad having them around.