Can't Wait To See Her
Devan’s POV:
It’s been five years without her. My only one, Marie, is my first and last love. It still feels like yesterday when we met. We met in an interesting way. I still remember how perplexed she was when she saw me sitting on the rooftop of her building, enjoying the view.
I am Devan Cold, the “new” CEO of Colds and Co.
When I was in high school, I met Marie. I didn’t meet her in school or through a friend; I met her on a rooftop, which would later become our meeting spot. Well, it’s a tale that occurred ten years ago.
In 2015, I was fifteen or sixteen years old. I studied at a private school where everyone was cocky, but no one was as cocky as I was. Gosh, it still haunts me to this day how I used to flex my money and stuff. A real embarrassment.
But my cocky attitude would eventually get knocked out of me when I reached home. My father, whom I feared the most even to this day, would knock some sense of “obedience” and “discipline” into me.
I had a friend, Joseph, who was very close to me. We went to the same private school. His parents were rich but lived in a narrow area near a slum. It weirded me out, but I would still go there, and Joseph would take me to the slum to introduce me to his other friends. Soon enough, his friends became my friends as well. I thought they were cool, so I hung out with them.
Unfortunately, one of my schoolmates saw me hanging out with them and spread it across the school. I didn’t mind it, though. Everything was fine until my father found out about the whole situation. I was dead meat.
Father beat the shit out of me and then created a system where I couldn’t go anywhere other than school.
My father is known as a powerful, calculative, ruthless, and observant person, yet he can’t observe the ones at home, and that’s the reason why Mom left. I do miss her, but can I bring her back?
Anyway, that’s not the point.
I will meet Marie, and that’s all that matters.
10 Years Ago:
Devan’s POV:
“Father?”
“Your father is in a meeting, young master.”
“Oh, Mr. Miller, I’d like to go out.”
“And why is that, young master?”
“A friend of mine needs help. Please let me go out.”
“I’m sorry, young master—”
“I am begging you, please.”
“But your father—”
“I’ll deal with him later. Just let me go!”
Hesitant, he said, “As you wish, young master.”
“Thank you, Mr. Miller. I owe you one. Thank you so much! Where are the keys, Mr. Miller?”
“The key holder, young master.”
“Thank you so much.”
I rushed out to Joseph’s place. I didn’t have much time left; I had to be there in fifteen minutes. It had been a year since I last talked to my only close friend after he ghosted me for about a year.
As soon as I arrived, I knocked on the door of Mr. Rise’s house. Mr. Rise opened the door with a tense expression.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Rise?” I asked.
“Ah, no, no, son. You came at the right time. Please come in.”
I rushed to Joseph’s room, and there he was, looking depressed as he stared out the window. Today’s weather perfectly matched his expression: gloomy, as if it were about to rain.
But something looked off about him. Like he was severely sick or something. Like he was going to die any moment.
“Yo, why’d you call? And where were you last year when I called you?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“Don’t know. I just felt like I needed someone near me,” he said, ignoring my question.
“The fuck do you mean by that?”
“Nothing. Let’s just go out.”
With that, he walked out of the room, and I followed him.
“Father, we are going out.”
“Make sure you reach home before your mother comes back.”
“Yes, Father.”
And with that, we went to our spot.
Our spot was the terrace of an old building in that slum.
It was old and had nine floors.
It looked so fragile that it seemed like it would collapse at any moment, but it was quiet and peaceful, as if no one were there.
Just us.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
“It’s just us. No one else,” he replied, looking out at the city.
“Oh, damn.”
“So you called because...?”
“I have myeloma.”
“What?”
“I have myeloma.”
“Myelo—what?”
“It’s a type of blood cancer that isn’t curable.”
The world around me stopped.
What in the world is going on?
Is that why he dropped out?
What. Is. Going. On.
“Since when—?”
“A year. I’m on stage three, going to stage four,” he said, turning toward me.
I could see the tears in his eyes.
“That’s why you—”
“Yeah, that’s why I dropped out.”
“No, you’ve got to be kidding. Is this some kind of sick joke of yours?”
“It’s true.”
“No, it’s not! You’re lying to me!”
“Do you think it’s a joke, Devan? Well, it’s not! It’s the fucking truth.”
No.
I couldn’t believe it.
He held my arms and said, “It’s true, man. It’s true. I’m going to die.”
“How m-much time do you have?”
“Six months.”
No.
This can’t be happening.
There’s no way.
No, no, no.
“No... no... no...”
I broke down, and so did he.
I couldn’t believe it.
I was going to lose my best friend forever.
The only friend I had.
Why?
Why so soon?
This is bullshit.
I hugged him.
He hugged me back.
We sobbed like there was no tomorrow.
I guess the weather really did predict my reaction to this news.
I guess.
No.
It felt like a bad dream.
A nightmare.
A horrible nightmare.
Will he actually die?
The one I trust and love so much?
“Don’t worry. I’ll spend as much time as I can with you,” I said.
“You better,” he replied.
After a while of sobbing, we sat there, leaning against the cement wall.
“How’d you find out?”
“About what?”
“About the blood cancer.”
“After your birthday, when I reached home, I suddenly puked blood.”
“Is it because of me?”
“Nah, bro, chill. And either way, there’s nothing we can do.”
“There must be some kind of treatment for this.”
“There’s nothing, so stop being delusional.”
“If my delusions give you some kind of happiness, then I won’t stop.”
I dropped him off at his house.
“See you tomorrow,” I said.
“Yeah. Bye.”
And he turned around and walked into his house.
