The sound of his laughter was music to your ears. It was a little too high pitched, a little too loud, a little too drawn out at times, but it was perfect. His teeth were diamonds in your eyes, absolutely flawless, no matter how big and buck they were. Your heart filled with joy just thinking about how in a weeks time he’d be yours forever.
You can still vividly remember everything about that night, the one where you’d dropped to one knee and he’d agreed to marry you. His laughter momentarily ceased and you quirked and eyebrow at him. He simply shot you a playful smirk and resumed playing footsie with you under the table. Your pokerface finally broke and you wore an ear to ear grin, which was met with an equally huge grin from across the table.
Your name is Dave Strider and you’re currently out at dinner with your adorable fiance John Egbert, and frankly, you’ve never been happier. You couldn’t wait to marry him, to get a house rather than the small apartment you currently shared, maybe adopt a kid or two, go on family vacations… Nothing had ever been more perfect. When you were with John any and everything bad that had ever happened in your life sort of just went away.
John took a few bites of the food in front of him then pushed his plate to the side. He grinned at you again and propped himself up with his elbow on the table, “You done yet, slow poke?”
“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” You rolled your eyes.
“Maybe,” He drew out the ‘y’ innocently, “if you didn’t spend so much time playing footsie with your boyfriend.”
“Maybe if my boyfriend wasn’t so goddamn distracting.”
“Maybe if you weren’t so easily distracted…”
“Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time trying to distract me.”
“It’s not my fault you’re so easy to distract.” He paused and glanced down at the table. “Like right now, you’re still not eating.” He gestured a hand lazily at your plate.
“You were talking to me!” You playfully retorted.
“You were talking to me too!” He snapped back.
“Yeah well.. You started it.” You sourly poked your fork at your plate. He knew you were joking and giggled. You glared at him and took another bite.
“Done yet?” He prodded.
“Impatient much?” You laughed and took a couple more bites. “Okay there, done.”
“Good.” He stood up and came to your side of the table and leaned over. “Slowpoke.” His lips ever so delicately brushed against your cheek when he kissed you.
“Shut up,” You grabbed the collar of his shirt and guided his lips to yours for a real kiss, not a very long one, but pleasing nonetheless. He grinned at you again and you both got up to go pay for your meal.
Before you’d walked out the door to the parking lot he’d reached his hand down and interlocked fingers with yours. You stopped by your cars and gave him another quick kiss. You’d met up at the restaurant when you got off of work and he’d finished school for the day, so you each had your own car. His 1996 light blue Grand-Am and your shitty 1986 beat up convertible with doors that didn’t even work.
“I’ll meet you back at home, kay?” You said when you pulled away from the kiss.
“Kay!” He smiled again and got into his car. “Love you!”
“I love you too.” You also let a small smile slip across your lips. He pulled out of the parking lot before you, but you weren’t far behind him.
You had the music up half way, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, about three cars behind John. After what seemed like forever at a red light, it turned green. John was the first in the line and he started moving.
Before you could register what had happened a four wheel drive ran the red light a plowed right into John’s driver’s side door. You slammed on your brakes, narrowly avoiding colliding with the minivan in front of you.
Everything was drown out, your music the surrounding traffic, everything. You strugged to get your seatbelt off. You momentarily forgot the your car door didn’t work and got very frustrated with it before finally hopping over it.
You were running as fast as you could towards John’s car, but everything was going in slow motion. The onlookers staring at you, the sound of the other driver’s horn wailing out (probably because they’d been thrust against the steering wheel upon impact), the only thing you were focused on was John’s car but you couldn’t get to it fast enough. You were holding back tears, hardly breathing, trying not to fall. The cold metal of his car made contact with your skin and everything sped up.
You ripped open the passenger’s side door and clambered over to him. He wasn’t moving. His eyes weren’t open. You didn’t pay attention to all the blood he was losing or the compromising position he was in. You grabbed onto his shoulders and shook him lightly. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying now and hissing swears and pleas under your breath, “John, no, fuck, fuck, shit. Fuck, John, wake up. WAKE UP!” You let out another heart wrenching sob, “Please John, please wake up!”
Your senses momentarily cleared themselves and you pulled out your phone to dial 911. You were practically screaming at the operator, she told you several other calls were made and a crew was already on their way, you told her they weren’t on their way fast enough. She reassured you it would be alright and asked you to stay on the line, you sobbed into the receiver as she tried to keep you calm.
The sound of sirens drew closer, you inwardly breathed a sigh of relief and look over at John again. The sight of him like this made your stomach turn.
A police man tapped on the glass and you exited the vehicle, quick to tell him everything, by the time you’d finished you were crying again. He latched a hand onto your shoulder and, just like the lady on the phone, reassured you it would be okay.
Hearing everyone say it’d be okay was NOT the same as it actually being okay, and you knew that, and these people knew that, everyone knew it, but nobody was going to say it. Nobody was going to tell you right then and there that your life was completely fucked, that your boyfriend was dying and you might as well fucking move on.
Nobody would say it because nobody had the heart. And honestly, you couldn’t blame them. You didn’t want them to say it, you much preferred their reassuring words rather than the blunt truth.
Your head snapped around at the sound of the stretcher being pulled out of the ambulance and clanking on the ground. They’d gotten John out of the car, and he was in much worse condition than you thought. The other driver too, he was bleeding profusely from his head. You swallowed hard and glanced back at the police officer, he solemnly nodded and you sprinted to the ambulance. Without missing a beat the medics let you aboard, they asked you all the same questions that the officer and the operator had asked. You answered them blankly, eyes on John the entire time.
It took no longer than ten minutes to get to the hospital and then they were whisking John away on the stretcher. A few nurses showed you the way to the waiting room and, again, assured you things would be fine. And as well as you could read the grim expressions on their faces, you pretend to believe them, you let yourself believe he’d be okay.
You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and pulled it open to see a text from your brother simply saying, “Sup.”
Your eyes flickered over the keys for a moment, hesitant to reply, unsure what to say. You took a deep breath and replied as best you could with shaking fingers and blurred eyes, “Hsptial now.”
More tears fell as you stared at your phone awaiting a reply.
It buzzed and “I’m on my way.” Lit up the screen.
You let out a long sigh and laid your head against the wall behind your chair.
The screen lit up again, “What happened? Is everything okay?”
You couldn’t find the right words to reply with, so you didn’t. You just let your phone fall from your hands onto your lap and pressed your palms to your eyes.
Everything will be alright.