Her Name Is Havoc

Three months ago

    Fluorescent lights proved to me that I am not in heaven. Although the sight that dawns on me next threatens my conviction. I see Hazel's head resting just centimeters away from the blend that my left hand and her right hand form. Her eyes closed so peacefully and serene. So calm that I can hear her heart beat. Or is that mine? Because the pace is accelerating significantly. It must be mine. But then it hits me. This isn't heaven. Because when I die, I will be openly welcomed in hell, not heaven. Hazel is different, though. This is why I know I am not dead. The afterlife won't be the same for us. We can't be together. I realize we're in the hospital.
   I don't move. Even breathing is done too carefully not to wake that angel beside me. How can she be so forgiving and compassionate? Even after what I did and how pissed she seemed, she came with me and stayed all night by my side. Holding my hand. My unworthy hand.
   Her breathing becomes unsteady as she moves her head slowly before opening these hazel-pigmented gems, aka, eyes. I marvel her softness and femininity as she yawns slightly and pulls her messy hair into a ponytail. She blinks several times before noticing my stare.
"You're up," she says, unsurprised, as she pulls her hand away.
    I miss her warmth already.
"Yeah."
    She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms against her chest and looking at the ceiling. Silence invades unwelcomely.
"I am sorry, Hazel. I don't know what got to me..."
"Don't even start!" she cut me off sharply.
"I really regret it, I swear! Please don't be mad at me. I wasn't thinking..."
"If you won't stop explaining, I will leave. Now."
    I nod, avoiding her eyes.
    Silence grew older and it became stronger than the two of us. None dared break it. As minutes ticked by, I realized a headache that didn't seem new but just noticed. It grew malignant. Then unbearably throbbing. I winced. I didn't know she was paying attention.
"Are you okay?" she asked as she took my hand again, concern arising.
    I nod, still avoiding her eyes. I squeeze her hand, though. Part of me does that as a way of pain discharge. And a part of me just wants to do that. To hold her. Close and still. To my surprise, she squeezes back.
"The doctor said it's a concussion. It's not very serious but not mild either. What were you really thinking attacking a guy just for taking me home?! Why would you even attack anybody?! Who gave you the right?!"
"I..." I tried explaining, but I knew it was doomed.
"I am sorry," I said with a sigh.
"Apology not accepted. Not yet accepted."
"What should I do to make you forgive me, then?"
"You won't do. I will. Not now, though. Now stop with the questions."
"Fine."
"You know what surprises me more than the fact that you attacked a guy for taking me home?"
"What?"
"The fact that you woke up and chatted with me for a while. Then stayed silent for over thirty minutes, not really bothering to ask me what happened or why are we here. I told you, unasked, that you've got concussion. Like you enjoy being here so much that you don't really care about anything else."
   Would I seem pathetic if I said I do like it here? And that I care not about anything else. Me, her, our hands hugging, what else would I ever desire?
"Do you love him?" I blurted before I change my mind.
    She looked me hard in the eyes, mostly surprised. It might have just been seconds till she spoke, but it felt like an eternity.
"No."
"Do you promise?"
"Yes."
    Relief washes over me accompanied with a sting of confusion.
"Then why did you choose him over me? Did I do something wrong? You haven't contacted me in so long now and you won't even pick up my calls. What did I do?"
"It's not you, Richard. It's me. I warned you before. I told you it's going to be hard. I am just not... normal. I have my ways. I don't think sometimes. I just do what I feel like doing. And that doesn't always please the people around me, so I don't get attached. I tried explaining, but you insisted."
    Is this when she wish me farewell? Because I would rather die.
"Okay. I am sorry. I won't pressure. I would never follow you again. I'll respect your decisions. But just forgive me."
"You're not listening. I already told you it's not you. Whatever you do won't change the case."
"Hazel... are you breaking up with me?" my voice quivered.
    She looked away, taking my last heart-beat along.
"Hazel?"
    Tears test my endurance.
"I didn't leave, did I? If I had wanted to go, Richard, I wouldn't have stayed with you. I don't owe you anything."
     Her sharp tone was only comforting once I made sense of her words. She wants to stay. She wants to.
     I squeezed her hands again, just making sure this whole thing is real. She caressed my knuckles with her tiny thumb, sending ripples of warmth to my chest. I couldn't take my eyes off her.
"So you forgive me now?" I asked again, not minding the redundancy.
       She looks at me for a second before sighing dramatically. She slaps me.
"Now I do," she replied, unapologetic.
     It took me a bit to realize what just happened and return my gaze back at her. The waves of pain that my headache invited never overcame the shock and astonishment that her mannerism caused. Momma, I am falling deep for this lady.
"I planned to wait till the doctor confirms your full recovery, but you insisted on being forgiven," and she shrugged with a mocking frown.
     I laughed. Out of pleasure? Maybe. But mainly out of bewilderment.
"Can I ask you a favor?"
    She nodded, hesitantly.
"Play me your favorite song as I fall asleep."
    She looked at me like she's weighing the proposal, then she took her phone out.
     Her music twirled and so did the walls, as I slowly lost touch with the real world. Still not leaving her hand.