Thinking....

Just letting you know this blog is still alive. A note before we begin; The below story is unfinished and may always be. and yes, it's pretty crappy now so once I'm done with it, I'll post that version. And after that, edit, edit and edit til it's all perfect and post the final version.


Insert decent title name

AN: Thanks to C and L for picking out the names. Hopefully they wouldn't have put so much effort into a story they didn't like.
Again, mind there's a lot of flashbacks, and I think I underlined the most of them but in the final version, you can work it all out yourself. Sorry for any tense error and how I can't capture the atmosphere well
Okay, here go!

“Here.”

Her voice is raspy, unbelievably hoarse and contrasts to her usual sweet voice.

“W-With...me.”

A pathetic pleading note crawls in her voice. Her eyes waters slightly, as though she notices this weakness has escaped.

Logan stood at the doorway, watching her. At any other moment in his life, whenever that tone had came from her, he could do nothing but assent to whatever the matter was. Help me find my dog, lend me some money, will you be my friend, come back now, close your eyes (I have a surprise for you), stay with me...

He stares at her. She is thin and seems to tremble on her feet as though her legs cannot support her. The moonlight makes her skin and hospital gown all the more pale.

When he was eighteen, he was in a car accident and fell into a coma that lasted a bit longer than a year.

He starts walking at an even pace. Too fast and he was upset or eager, too slow and he was in thought or hesitation.

They kept sending him flowers, even the guys. Some of them even visited. In retrospect, he is surprised they did, that they suffered through the awkwardness of talking to someone yet no one. And she kept visiting too. And one day he woke up and she was over him, crying, saying please, please, please in a quiet way despite her tears. 
Did she always cry when she visited him?

A bitter smile curves his lips. No one could be worth so many tears, least of all, him.

He thinks he can feel Ellie’s wide blue eyes watching him and he moves further and further away. In his mind she is standing, transparent so he can see the blue wall behind her and as he stares, she seems to disappear further.

People, doors, corridors all blur meaninglessly around him. He keeps his head down. He won’t remember any of these people and they him.
Memories were such a fickle thing.

They were together at the start of his political career. Hand in hand, she was always beside him with that wide smile. It was genuine and he was sure of this because Ellie was the sort of person to wear her heart on her sleeve, to have her heart as an open book. Was it because she loved the attention? Or because...?

Back then he loved to tell people that it was Ellie that woke him from his coma. Her voice.

It was so strange after he had woken. He was surprised to see so many familiar faces around him, surprised he lasted in their memories

He presses ‘1’ and watches as the numbers light up before the light finally reaches the number of this level. The elevator is empty beforehe steps in. It still seems empty once he is in. Straight down the corridor is Ellie, standing by her bed and shivering. He can’t actually see her very well, which is odd because she isn't that far away. As the doors close, Ellie disappears. It's nothing, he knows, she is still out there, by her bed.
Crying even.

And yet, the closing doors seem to hint at something more than that. That he will never see her again.

Perhaps this will be the last time he will see her and if that’s true he won’t mind. He really won’t because they were drifting about for years.

It seemed to come slowly. He couldn’t feel anything for her any more. That lasted months, the growing emptiness. He never felt right holding her hand, didn’t know what kind of gift she’d like, he couldn’t remember feeling anything for her, ever.

He didn’t let her go as soon as he knew, because, he thought selfishly, this would be splattered all over the papers. They’d take interviews from her and he didn’t know what she would say. But she wouldn't say such controversial things he was thinking.

And there was the other thing, in all those chick flicks he had seen with her.

Sometimes you have to let her go.

Because he couldn’t make her happy. Because he didn’t love her. Because everything around him was telling him to.

A year into politics and he had lost all feelings for her. But in the month she left him, it seemed since he couldn’t feel anything at all. It seemed she was taking more with her than a duffle bag and the clothing on her back.

If a bowling ball dropped onto his foot, of course there would be pain. When the dentist was doing something to one of his back teeth, there was pain (again and again and for several days afterwards. Jerk). At a wedding he ate so much he felt full, when he won the election he felt victorious, when Ellie left him without too much of a fuss he felt satisfaction. So what was he worrying about?

Feelings were associated with the heart. Pain was a feeling, satisfaction, fullness, hunger... weren’t they all feelings? Yet people only seemed to associate sadness, love, happiness and such as feelings. He couldn’t feel any of those for what feels like forever.

The elevator has wooden walls, he notes, the floor is dark carpet. He saw this coming in, he knows it. Logan holds his hand up in front of him and blinks quickly before it, a bemused expression on his face.

They say if you can’t see your hand right in front of you, you’re in trouble.

Perhaps he should feel alarm; is he going blind, how will he get home, is gas leaking into the elevator or worse yet, someone was letting gas leak before assassinating him...but there was only the usual feeling of nothingness.

Swallowing, he lets his hand drop by his side and blinks. He takes some deep breaths.

“Its the right thing to do.” His friend reached over and pat him on the back. “At least you're doing it early. What if you'd waiting til your wedding day, til it was too late?”

Why would something so right feel so wrong? Couldn't he have kept it going, to his dying day? It never felt like it could even be 'too late' with Ellie. Being with Ellie implied forever, like those fairytales with beautiful maidens, dashing knights, foul witches and wretches and everlasting love.

So many people had come and gone in these years. When did they all begin to drift away from him? Memories of them were bottled, thrown out into that vast ocean and never to be read.

But Ellie was always there. And he had the feeling she would always be.

That's why darling it's incredible

that someone so unforgettable

thinks that I am unforgettable too

There were a lot of thing he could remember about her. Her smile, which always seemed to hold something else behind it. Her eyes, which were always deeply sorrowful when she was with him and yet always so bright and hopeful. Her laughter, giving him that sense of elation like seeing a falling star when he was younger. Her hand, the fingers long and delicate and her grip unrelenting and saying all the things she didn't. Her warmth, her light...
Her love.