YOU SAVED ME

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Chloe is babbling, in her energetic, all this shit happened when you were gone Ashy kind of way. It's not normal that she must strike up a conversation with someone who had a brain tumor, and the question of what to talk about is always a hard one.

The surgeons tell me that they got a caller from an 'Aaron', saying that I rub at the back of my head whenever I'm in pain. Sure enough, running a closer CT scan, the surgeons found a tiny tumor in my temporal and occipital lobe, almost too small to be visible. During the surgery, they managed to extricate the entire tumor. He saved your life, they said.

Chloe knows that I'm still weary from all the meds and probing, so she's settled on her favorite topic – Chris Perry. Believe it or not, it's pretty relaxing, listening to her gush about his favorite ice cream flavor ... it reminds me of the life out there, and what I'm lacking. It's an incentive, contrasting sharply from the meds and the hospital.

Life. I miss it.

Chloe's squeeze on my hand brings me back to reality. Her eyes are dancing. "Someone wants to see you."

"What? Dad and Heidi are already here." I give a pointed nod to the two of them, sitting on the other side of my bed. They're immersed in deep, quiet conversation.

"No, silly." Chloe swats my arm playfully, rising out of her seat. "Someone else."

Hope flares in my chest, maybe, maybe, and in walks Aaron Blakely. His eyes are wide, hair disheveled and wet.

I open my mouth to say something, anything, but suddenly, I have forgotten how to speak. With a sharp intake of breath, Aaron is at my bedside in second. Heidi and Dad step out to talk with her. Chloe follows in suit, flashing an exaggerated wink over her shoulder.

"Asher," he breathes, engulfing me in his arms. He waits for me to freeze or pull back, but I rest my cheek against his, body humming with electricity. His hands squeeze tighter around me, and I realize he's trembling.

"Hey, hey." I croak, trying to pat his arm, but I'm squashed beneath his weight. He smells like shampoo and clean sheets. When he doesn't let go, I sink into his embrace, pinching his shirt to remind myself that this is real. He buries his nose into the crook of my neck, breathing in deeply, as if committing me to memory. Without realizing it, I am doing the same.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," his lips flutter against my collarbone, and he squeezes tighter. I rest my cheek on the top of his head, fingers tremulously closing around his brown locks. This is real. This is real. He is here, and he is sorry. Is this real?

Aaron finally pulls back, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes. A tear whispers down his cheek, lingering at the corner of his chin. "I'm sorry too," I murmur, letting out a choked laugh. I touch his cheeks, his eyelids, his lips, and with every trace of my fingers, he doesn't disappear.

"Will you forgive me? Please forgive me," he murmurs, quiet. "I am not Aaron Blakely without you." Words walking on water.

I nod, breaking into a watery smile. "Aaron and Asher," I whisper. "A and A."

"A and A," Aaron murmurs back to me. One hand is under my back, and the other is in my hair, and I'm in an Aaron Room, with walls of clean Polo shirt and messy brown hair falling into my eyes.

"You saved my life," I say, heart thrumming. "That voicemail. You saved me."

Aaron lets out a small laugh. "All I did was observe."

"And yet, I would be going crazy if it weren't for you."

He grins, hair falling into his eyes. "I would redo every second of it, for you."

His words cause a rush through my veins, sending me into some sort of dream-like haze. He is here, and he hasn't left me for his old ways. Stupidly, I say, "Your hair is getting in my mouth."

"Shut up."

His eyes sparkle, and then his lips capture mine.

It's slow, sweet. My eyes slide closed, and somewhere, his thumbs are caressing my cheeks, and I'm breathing him in, and our mouths are a symphony, creating the sweetest music. He tastes like pine and hiking and Aaron.

We stay like that, entwined, for what seems like hours. Blissful hours, warm, happy, a memory that I'm sure to carefully wrap away for later. He is here. He is here.

We finally break away, breathing slightly hitched. I touch his dimples, and he closes his eyes, leaning into my palm. My boy.

"Asher-" he murmurs, lashes flickering. The corner of his lips tugs downward.

"Shh." My finger presses against his mouth. "Don't ruin it."

Aaron's arms snake around my back, and his nose is in the crook of my shoulder. My hair hides his face from the rest of the world, and maybe that's the reason why he has cocooned himself in my arms.

"You've already ruined me."


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