Drabble 1

Sinking, slowly sinking into what if and might have been, you hold his hand and watch a drop of blood roll away. Fire, water, sirens, smoke, the crunch of glass under your ground-up hands as they pull him away from you.

"No! No, bring him back!"

You shout as if no one can hear you, because it's painfully obvious he can't.

They come back for you once he's already gone, sawing, crunching, freeing you from this day that never happened. Except you're not dying.

"You're okay, Noah!" some lady says, like you'd believe her anyway. The world's gone blurry without him, and you are not okay.

His skull's been crushed by that other car. You saw it happen, you saw the world ending in halogen lights and six cylinder mayhem. You saw him die.

It's more painful than you ever imagined and it has nothing to do with the cast around your arm. You abandon hope to legal narcotics and the haze gets worse until-

He smiles and sits down on your bed, looking more like the sixteen year old boy he used to be than the man he's become.

"I'm okay, Noah," he says patting your leg over the blanket and it's not fair because you wanted to feel his touch one last time.

Your arm throws a clot and you pass on before anyone knew you were in trouble and he's waiting for you, arms outstretched and here's that might-have-been you've been looking for.

You laugh and say, "Some first date."

He kisses you away.