Ok, this is an AU That this beautiful women up here ⬆️⬆️⬆️ had made. All credit goes to her for making this AU, it is not mine
If you use this AU, please credit her, she put a lot of work into it
It's called "When Your Number Is Called" and I'll explain the basics in the story. She worked on this so hard and I love it to bits
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Numbers. They're just symbols, right? Little squiggles that help you count how many fingers you have or how many hours are in a day. Wrong. Numbers matter, so much.
In my world, you are born with a number. Usually when people have a baby, they ask "girl or boy" or anything like that. When children in my generation are born, our parents ask what number we have.
When I was born, that's what my parents asked. My parent's number says that they'll live until they are 40 and - I didn't know my father's. My number?
I'll only live to be 19.
When you are born, there is. 12 digit number on your wrist. My number is 095412092019.
I will die at 9:54 AM on December 9th, 2019. Today is June 3rd, 9:20 PM, 2018. I have one year, 6 months, and 5 days at least until I die. At least in the events off this narrative. When I write this, I'll have an hour to live. I haven't been counting minutes.
When I was born, my older brother, Alex, would live to be 49. His friend, John, would live to be 70 - I've seen his number, I know he's lying. He'll die young too, just not like me.
All my friends and family will live to be in their 50's and 80's, and I'm just - there.
There's a man at my work place named Thomas Jefferson. He's a flirtatious man that claims to love me, and constantly asks my number. I try to beat around the bush. Today was one of those days.
I heard his Southern accent from down the hall. I sigh.
"Hey, [nickname]." He says, walking up to me. Thomas usually proudly shows off his number. He'll live until he's 98. He has another 79 years. He said he has many plans, and has explained all his dreams for the future. He wants to know mine, and all I can say is I don't know and lie. I haven't told him yet.
"Hello, Thomas."
He chuckles, stretching his arms. "I thought I told you to call me Tommy."
I stop, turning to him. "Thomas I have no time for love. Do you hear me?" I say. "I don't want a significant other."
I keep walking after that. He was still standing there. He catches up to me.
"Cmon, [name], I think you have a little bit of time in life to have love." He says. "At least a few years."
I inhale sharply. I was hoping my number wasn't showing. I usually cover it up with a sweater, but today was hot and I couldn't find any bracelets or rubber bands.
I don't respond to him. His smug expression fades, worry in his eyes. He chuckles nervously.
"[name], you do have a couple years, right?" He asks.
I don't respond again. I look ahead, walking down the corridors, frantically searching for my office.
"[name]." He says, stopping me in my tracks. He was taller and bigger than me, so it was sort of hard to pass him. I hide my wrist behind my back.
"Thomas, let me through." I say, about to go around him. That's when it happens
He grabs my wrist, tugging me towards him as he's about to read it. I struggle to get my hand out of his grip.
"Thomas!" I yell at him. There was a log silence from him. His other hand was shaking. He gulped. He looked up at me. He let go of my wrist, and I tugged it back. His aura had gotten darker.
"...19?" He asks. I turn my head away in shame. I should've told him. My stance softens a bit, and he grabs my chin, making me look him in the eye. "Wh-why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want you to know!!" I screamed in his face. People in their offices look at the door at us weirdly. My face turns a darker red then it already was. I turn away from him and walk to my office, shutting the door. He puts his foot in the doorway, walking in and shutting the door.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He says.
"You didn't need to know-"
"You have so little time-"
"Why does it matter-"
"It matters because I love you!" He yells at me. Tears were pricking at our eyes, peak and suffering showing from his. "Why should I be able to live so long when the love of my life has so little time?"
There was a long sentence. He walks towards me, grabbing my hands and kneeling down.
"I care about you, [name], and I want to be with you." He says. "Let's get married-"
"Thomas-"
"I can spend every minute with you and I would treat you like it's the end of the world-"
"Technically is for me-"
"And I wouldn't stop loving you." He says. "Because I care. I want you to do one thing that you will remember and enjoy in the next life- heaven, whatever happens when we die."
I smile, looking away. He would do anything for me, wouldn't he?
Later that month we got married. He gave me the best day I couldn't wished for. He took me everywhere. We went to every place you could think of in this moment. He didn't spend a second away from me.
Today was the day, though.
Thomas had rushed home from work to find me coughing and sputtering, writing this. He started crying and sobbing, telling me how much he loved me.
"I'm sorry, Thomas." I said, holding his cheek. "I'm sorry."
"Why do you have to leave me?" He asks.
"It wasn't my choice-"
"I'll find a cure, just try to stay alive-"
"Thomas, we both know there isn't a cure-"
"I'll find it, please just try to stay alive-"
"Thomas." I said, coughing a bit more. It was 9:47. "It's almost time."
For the next five minutes, he retold all of the memories that we shared, what his life was without me, and he cried more and more. He read everything that I typed and what I've typed so far.
Today was December 9th, 2019. As I am finishing this, it is 9:52. I only have two minutes. So I ask you this:
If you only had so much time, how would spend it? With the one(s) you love? Or would you waste it all?
My love, take your time. I'll see you on the other side.
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Good bye...
