It can’t happen. I won’t let it happen.
I sit on the bed beside Raiden, holding his hand in one of mine while I eat the hospital food they dropped off. The cheap plastic plate has sections dividing the barely edible food. It’s fine, I’ve eaten worse.
“Jer! Don’t eat that!” Raiden yells as I fill my spoon up with the soup he put in the bowl for me. I hadn’t been feeling well, so I stayed home from school today. My phone had been blowing up and when I finally got enough energy to check it, all of the messages were from Raiden.
I lift my eyes from the chicken soup to meet Raiden’s gaze. When he came home from school, he ran right over here and startedpampering me. I reveled in the attention in between the coughing fits I was having.
His face is lined with worry as he walks over to the bed where I’m propped up against the pillows and takes the bowl from me. He grabs the gatorade bottle from my nightstand and offers me a sip of it.
I do, begrudgingly. Staring at the soup that was stolen from my hand as my stomach grumbles its displeasure.
“You can’t eat it, my mom is making miso soup later and I’ll run over and get some for you.”
“Why can’t I eat that, Raiden?” I try to peek into the bowl he has, catching a quick glimpse of noodles and small bright green celery pieces.
“I don’t think I made it right,” he shyly admits. His head drops to his chest as he stares at the bowl in his hands. The bowl is lopsided, a handmade gift from one of my mom’s friends and is hand painted. It looks so bulky compared to his delicate fingers wrapped around the ceramic.
“I’m sure it’s not bad.” Whatever else I was going to say is interrupted by a coughing fit, the pressure against my lungs almost unbearable as I lean away from him and attempt to cover my mouth. I don’t want to get him sick as well.
The coughing finally dies down, and all that’s left is the residual pain in my chest and throat. Raiden is miraculously right there at the ready with the bottle of gatorade for me to take a swig out of. My forehead breaks out in a sweat from the effort, but my chilly hands make contact with his and he flinches away from the coldness.
“Sorry,” I apologize and tuck my hands under the blanket to warm them up.
Raiden shakes his head and reaches under the blankets to hold my hands in his. His hands are warm against mine, and when I inhale a rough breath, his floral scent grounds me.
“Can you feed me just a little bit? I’m starving and I don’t know ifI can wait until your mom is done cooking.” Just to further prove my point, my belly announces its displeasure at having to wait.
He still looks hesitant, but finally agrees. He lets go of my hand, and I miss the warmth of it already.
“One bite, and if it’s awful, I don’t want to hear you complain,” he warns, scooping some broth and noodles onto the spoon and extending it to me.
I open my mouth, already feeling the warmth from it as he lets it get close to my lips. Not too hot that it’s going to burn me though.
I close my mouth around the spoon, taking all of the soup off and nearly spitting it right back out. I somehow manage to swallow the bite, and when Raiden extends another one towards me I accept it gratefully.
His smile is worth the grossness of the soup. I’m not sure if he tried to make it homemade or if he mixed ingredients into an already canned soup but either way it’s barely edible. The sour tang is bitter against my tongue and I have to swallow extra to push down the bile threatening to come up.
When the bowl is finally finished, I lay back against the pillows and slowly close my eyes. Raiden crawls into bed beside me, keeping his head far enough away from mine that he won’t be sick.
I start to drift off at the same time he clicks on my tv show and turns the volume down, making a space for himself against me.
That was one of the first times I ate something he made, but after that he tried harder and harder to learn his mom’s family recipes. Every failed attempt left me to eat the discards and I never once complained. He was always sosmileywhile he was moving around the kitchen, and I couldn’t crush the happiness he was building. I would eat inedible food everyday for the rest of my life if it meant I got to live the rest of it with Raiden by my side.
I finish the food, and sit the tray off to the side for the nurses to pick up on their next round.
In the meantime, I make myself comfortable in the chairbeside Raiden’s bed, dragging it over so I can hold his hand in one of mine and prop my foot on the edge of his bed. I tug on my prosthetic, pulling it off and massaging the sore end. I’ve been pushing myself hard, and my leg is paying for it.
Once my pain dulls in my leg, I let it go and reach for the remote to scroll through the available TV channels.
When I finally decide on an old sitcom my eyes are starting to close on their own accord. The slight sound of voices coming through the door as everyone gets ready to turn in for the night.
Knock, knock.
A light rapping noise, knuckles hitting against the door.
“Come in,” I call out. Not loud enough to disturb Raiden but enough so they can hear me allowing them entrance. It’s the same nurse from earlier, and she has everything I need to give Raiden a bath.
“I’ll leave this right here, and if you need anything just buzz us.”
