Apples Don't Just Mean School [in process of rewriting]

I'm... Taking Steps

It's been a long day without you, my friend/And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again ~ Wiz Khalifa, See You Again

Emily's POV

It was one for the rare days where the sky was cerulean blue, and dotted with wispy, pure white clouds, added with a cooling breeze licking at you. The cliché, I-thought-it-would-be-perfect-but-it-wasn't kind of day. I even had a day off, which made it worse. I was sure something bad would happen like in one of the 'I-thought-I-was-special-so-I-added-a-plot-twist' authors' stories. Which are, incidentally, supposed to be surprising but they aren't...

I decided to sleep in until noon, before getting up to a lazy brunch of whatever I could find in the flat: namely, bacon, eggs, pancakes and maple syrup. I was very breakfast orientated... It IS the most important meal of the day, after all. I picked up the fat envelope lying on the breakfast table, and peeled it open. A virtual (A/N: One person will get this inside joke...) BLIZZARD of little, colourful notes poured out, revealing a plain, cream-coloured letter folded up inside.

Being the curious person I was, I restrained myself with much difficulty and flipped through all the little ones first, giggling a bit at each encouraging sentence penned down in 9R's various handwritings. Finally, I couldn't resist the temptation and unfolded the bigger piece of paper. To my pleasant surprise, I noted Matthew's thin, spidery, slightly cursive script. Unable to repress a smile from spreading across my face, I began reading the message.

Matthew's POV

I flopped back on the couch, awaiting Death's welcoming, cold grip. Matthew Harper, you have such a long life ahead of you, get medical assistance NOW. No. I've made up my mind. I felt a little woozy, and lay down. This is NOT a dignified way to die! Oh, my God, screw dignity. Like I have any left. I clenched a fist. Why aren't I dying yet? Did I take a wrong dose? Ugh. This is absolutely inconvenient: When I WANT to die, I don't, and when I don't, I will probably get into a life-threatening experience.

I got up soon enough to sleep on my own bed, slightly disappointed with the lack of death. Why can't I just. Just. Just DIE? Because you're still needed in this world, Matthew. I don't WANT to be needed. I want to leave this life. Great. Melodrama. This is getting stupid. Don't act all stereotypical air headed depressed person as all sorts of stories romanticise it to be. You of all people should know.

Why me? Sarah. I froze on the spot. Sarah... She had depression too. And I... You had to save her and stop her from jumping that time, right? Yes... But she was over-reacting. Aren't you? I'm... taking steps. She got a better life after she got over me. I didn't. I'm stuck as a teacher, an unaccepted one as well. I should be living by myself, but I'm still with Mom and Dad. I'm a failure. No, no, no... Ugh. You are too rash. I gave up on listening to myself and fell calmly, almost serenely, into the depths of dark, dark sleep...

Emily's POV

If you ever need me, for any weird or trivial matter, you can call me, okay? We all miss you. I felt a small tear well up, before I brushed away all the gushy feelings. That sort of thing could go to a girl's head, and Mattie loved to tease me. Cheers, your friend Matthew Harper? That's way too formal, Mattie... I smirked at the hasty ending and refolded the letter, sliding it into the envelope with the kids' messages. 

I picked up my purse and sauntered out the door. I should write back. Maybe send some stuff for the kids as well. Snacks? Nah, bookmarks. I'll get Mattie something nice. A book? He likes non-fiction. Maybe philosophy? That would be nice, yes. Stop trying so hard. Buy what you think they'd like. I'm trying... Thus, on a whim, I went to the mall. Not just any, street-side, cheesy mall: THE Mall of All Malls. 

It was a shopper's paradise (I'm not a shopaholic. Nope, I'm NOT!): with all the designer brands and classy clothes, the fantastic souvenir shops and the wondrous restaurants. I headed for the bookstore. It was the largest bookstore I had seen in a mall: it had three levels, covering almost half a floor each. There were books in exotic languages and of equally exotic topics. It was like heaven for me, and I flitted from shelf to shelf, picking out books. I could stay here forever...

Matthew's POV

My eyes fluttered awake and I found myself in a hospital bed. Like Emily had twice this year. I'm not dead? Ugh, plan foiled. I scowled visibly, and looked around me. ICU, obviously. The walls were void of anything, and the ceiling light shone WAY too brightly. Any manner of odd, foreign instruments were hooked up to my various body parts. To crown it off, I was half-stuck in this position, with an itchy spot on my back. 

After much impromptu body contorting, I managed to hit the call button. FINALLY. The nurse came in hurriedly. "Oh, you're awake! Well, you've been admitted for-" "An overdose of tylenol?" She nodded and I sighed, sinking back into the scratchy but plump pillows. "Am I going to die?" I asked hopefully. "The good news is..." I waited. "You're going to survive!" she announced. "What? Ugh. I wanted to..." I let my voice trail off, realising how childish that sounded. "Wanted to?" she prompted. 

"Wanted to see my family," I lied, trying to repress a wave of irritation. "Well, they'll be allowed to visit tomorrow. So for now, we're feeding you the medications through these tubes, and you're supposed to sleep, or rest," she said briskly. "Okay," I muttered, feeling like a little child that was being ordered about. "Alright, if you have any urgent questions, click the same call button, okay?" Without waiting for my reply, she strode off. I sighed when she left. Back to square one of the living world. Good game, Matthew Harper.

A/N: At the time of publishing, it's 11.50p.m. Matthew didn't die, sure... But he'll attempt to soon, maybe? These guys have a mind of their own: I don't actually control them... I just go wherever they want to, choose their POVs when they say, "Pick me! Pick me!" and the ideas flow from my inner author... Well, enough sad stuff, time for DOWNRIGHT DEPRESSING stuff! Next chapter, please!