★--[Room 45 (Hospital or Heaven?)]-★
I slowly opened my eyes.
White ceiling. Bright lights. Sterile silence.
> Me (thinking): "Is this... heaven?"
But then I noticed—there was a ceiling fan.
> Me (squinting): "Wait. There's no ceiling fan in heaven… right?"
I blinked. My head throbbed like I just finished three seasons of trauma with no bathroom break.
> Me (groaning): "Am I still alive?"
Suddenly—a voice.
> Rachel: "Hey... Ryan? Are you okay?"
I turned slightly, and there she was—Rachel. Sitting next to the hospital bed. Looking concerned. Guilt in her eyes.
She took a breath, then spoke fast, like she was trying to unload everything before I blacked out again.
> Rachel:"I came to your place… I wanted to talk about what happened. You looked disappointed earlier, and I felt bad. But then… then I saw you on the floor. There was blood… coming from your nose. You weren't moving. I panicked—I called 911."
I stared at her.
> Me (deadpan): "Maybe my nose just… hit the floor too hard."
She blinked.
> Rachel: "Ryan. Seriously?"
> Me: "What? Floors are dangerous too. They're like… silent assassins."
She rolled her eyes—but smiled, just a little.
And me? I was still trying to decide if this was the worst day of my life… or just one more chapter in the Tragedy & Delulu Chronicles of Ryan Hawkins.
---
A few minutes later...
The door creaked open. A doctor walked in with a clipboard and serious eyebrows.
He looked at Rachel.
> Doctor: "Are you his girlfriend?"
Rachel blinked. Then glanced at me.
Then back at the doctor.
> Rachel (awkward): "No—no, I'm just... a close friend."
Quick glance at me again. Real quick.
> Me (thinking): "Oof. That 'just a friend' hit me harder than the brain tumor."
The doctor nodded, then looked back at her.
> Doctor: "Can I speak with you privately?"
> Rachel: "Yeah… yes. Of course."
She looked at me one more time before following him out.
The door closed.
Silence.
> Me (inner monologue): "Maybe she knows now. Maybe the doctor told her everything. About the tumor. About the ticking time bomb inside my skull..."
"...Or maybe he just wanted to ask if she's single. Who knows."
I tried to move. Nothing.
> Me (thinking): "Wala. Wala talaga. Parang cellphone na 1% tapos walang charger."
I stared at the ceiling fan.
> Me (softly): "Kahit ikaw, betray me not…"
---
A few moments later...
Rachel returned.
She walked in slowly, her eyes heavy, filled with something between pity and panic. Concerned, confused, maybe even scared.
She just stood there… staring at me.
I stared back.
With a smile.
Not the good kind.
The kind of smile you use when everything inside you is breaking... but you still want to look cool for some reason.
> Me (soft laugh): "I know that look, Rachel."
> Me (still smiling): "Yeah. It's true. Lahat ng kabaliwan na nakikita mo sakin... it's because of that."
I pointed to my head.
> Me: "Defective brain. Promo ng universe. Buy 1 trauma, free tumor."
She didn't say anything. She just kept looking.
I kept smiling.
The fakest smile I've ever worn. Like a mask made of toothpaste and broken dreams.
> Me (thinking): "Smile lang, Ryan. Kahit mukha mo parang advertisement ng emotional damage."
The silence grew heavier than my hospital bill.
Still smiling.
Still pretending.
1 week later...[to be continued]
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