Prologue
Mega Sick
© 2015-2020 Ichabod Crane - All Rights Reserved
Mega Sick is written by me since July, 2015 and finished in April, 2020. None of its part can be taken to post elsewhere, replicate, reproduce, perform or adapt into anything without my permission. If you seen this being posted somewhere other than my account, please let me know.
This is a work of fiction, any similarities of character, names and storyline is purely coincidence.
Prologue
“Have you ever thought of the time you die, Declan?” I ask, looking up the clear sky above through my dark sunglasses lens.
My head rests on Declan’s left shoulder and his head on mine. We are lying on opposite each other on a red and white stripes picnic rug on the park’s lawn. It’s 4pm now, the heat from the sun is no longer intense compares to noon.
I narrow my eyes at the last sun beams, continue “I mean, do you think your memorial photo has already been taken?”
I can feel Declan’s body moves slightly, what I said must have ticked him somewhere.
“Huh? Are you planning to kill me?” His head is slightly tilted to the side, turning towards me. His wavy, dark brown hair has always been more soft and beautiful than most girl I know, it kept sparkling in the sunlight.
My hair color is a pale chestnut one, not shiny, not even one bit glow in the sun. I expected it to look like it was covered in translucent smoke, but it always looked like it had been painted with a matte nail finish on top and scrawled with spit ends on the bottom.
“No, but I think I’ll die from cancer.” I take off my sunglasses and turned to see only his neck base.
Even his neck base is attractive as hell. If I had such a ravishing appearance, I would have made a list of all the prerogatives of beautiful people to enjoy. For example, stealing the gaze of everyone in the bar the moment I walk in.
But there are two things I am proud that I had it better than Declan, those are these eyes with central heterochromia and the contents of my brain.
“Dillon, how do you think you’ll die?” Declan says quietly.
“I just said cancer, Declan.” I blink, turns my head to look at the sky again.
“Is that so bad?”
I notice some clouds floating lazily through the sky above.
“Don’t you feel that it is the famous way of dying now? How do you want to die?” I respond to it, starting to remember what part of my body was more cancerous than my darkening soul.
Declan take a moment to answer me.
“Accident. Maybe I’ll die young.”
We sometimes say such tragic things, for props mostly.
