He was counting.

                      3
                  6
            12
      24
48

His breath was cold, just like his pale skin. He didn't know where he was. The walls were white. The floor was white. He was white. His eyes, his hair, his skin, his clothing. He sights while he was waiting for somebody to come. But nobody came. It was just him in a white room.

He was counting

2
    4
6
    8
10

A doctor appeared in the white room. The doctor was also white. His voice was low, but calming. He wasn't calm at all. He was freaking out. The numbers were floating around in his head. Like the balloons on a festival. The children are running across each other and the balloons they hold get stuck in the other balloons. The children are crying because they don't have their balloon anymore. He opened her eyes and escaped from  the fantasy that was playing off inside his head. It was weird, but funny. Annoying, but interesting. Painful but he couldn't stop thinking about how it feels. He wants to feel the pain again. It was a nice sort of pain.

He was counting

5
4
3
2
1

Happy new year! Another flashback. It was Christmas. The white snow decorated the landscape outside. Inside was it warm and cozy. He and his friend; Evan were sitting on the couch. They were sitting close to each other. The father of Evan hated Evan. Because he was a failure. He loves Evan. His whole heart was happy when Evan was close to him so he can feel his body warmth. Evan was beautiful. He had brown hair and his eyes were blue with a slight tone of green. Evan had his arm wrapped around him. He was ill. Really ill. Cancer. This was probably their last Christmas they could spend together so they were both happy. Evan kissed him on his forehead and said:' i love you.' From that moment he knew that his memories had lied to him. Evan was not his friend. Evan was his boyfriend.

He was counting

1
      2
          3
     4
5

He had panic attacks. Evan was always there for him when he had one. It was sometimes really traumatizing for them both, but Evan could handle it. Evan could handle everything. Even when he died. Evan didn't cry. Evan said that it was okay because he loved him so much. So Evan wanted that he could be free.

He was counting until he knew where he was.

He was dead.

This is dead.

Waiting in silent and waiting for somebody.

When he knew he was dead, he wanted to be alive. Without cancer. Without the pain. Without the panic attacks.

But with Evan